The Encuentro (A Children's Story For Adults)

       Grim-faced, Idlewile nodded like a man on a gibbet.
       “…So, how were has hands indisposed, we are wondering?”
       “…Well, my dear…It has to do with the size of your breast…You see, he needed both hands to hold just the one.”
       “…He barfed on my boob and then licked my nipple wet?...Is that it?”
       “…Absolutely, darling!...And there it happened in the test.”
       “…This one?” she said, pointing at her breast.
       “That would be the one, as you so correctly do attest.”
       “…This boob?”
       “That’s the one.”
       “…This tittie little tit?” “That tittie…That very tittie it.”
       “…The right little tit?”
       “The right, not the left.”
       “…Ah, yes!...The right. It’s still the one that’s wet!”
       “That’s right! Not left…So, there’s nothing left to guess!”
       “…Excuse me, sire and milady,” Lupita said, breaking in on them.
       “Yes, Lupita? Go ahead,” her lady replied.
       “…Shouldn’t there be music to this?...And are you two getting ready to go on a long march to some exotic place with a strange-sounding name, like Pretoria, or some such?”
       “…Where’s Pretoria?” came those expected perfumed words.
       “I don’t know,” Lupita replied, “it just popped into my brain.”
       Pausing briefly, Bea and Flinton exchanged blank looks; then shrugged, and marched on from where they stood.
       “We see…So, we’re wondering further why it is we didn’t see or feel it? Or have any recollection whatsoever of it ever having happened?...Perhaps you could help us with this, as well, our prince?”
       “…Well, now that’s a hard one,” Flinton said, pretending to be considering her question, which indeed he was rather intensely. “…Perhaps you blinked!” he inanely suggested.
      “…Oh, brilliant!” Lupita thought.
       “Well, now we suppose that could be it,” replied his fiancée, giving that some thought.
       “…Oh, dumb!” Lupita thought again of that.
       “Yes. That must be it…We blinked and, in that fraction of a second, Idlewile took a hold of our boob, realized he couldn’t manage it with just one hand…Then, having no other viable option, he did the only thing he could do at the time, which was to employ his other hand…But then he realized there would be no way to finish the job as called for by the script…Which caused him to feel embarrassed and then to panic, because he knew his boss would be yelling at him again, if he did not perform up to his high substandards…Which, as more time slowly passed, in turn caused him to feel sick again…Which ultimately caused another chuck, even though he probably fought as hard as he could to keep it down, and so caused him even further distress and embarrassment…Which he apparently managed to do fairly successfully, except for that one tiny piece of puke that we would surmise got lodged in his airway, making it impossible for him to breathe any longer, at least without a torturous tickling sensation in his throat…And then, of course, by then his auto-reflexive system would have taken over, and there was nothing he could do but expectorate, which he did…Which, of course, no one could really fault him for, because, after all, he’s just another stupid human doing another stupid human trick, like the rest of us…And then there he was again– confronted with another dilemma, which was what to do about that bit of spit that was dangling there suspended on my nipple and swinging back and forth and back and forth and drawing everyone’s attention to both it and him…And yet, still having no free hands, he was again forced to do the only thing he could, which, when we think of it, was all he really could…Which was to open his servant mouth and let his tongue out to lick it off, because there was no way for him to know how long it would remain there, dangling and glistening in the light and swinging back and forth, like it was, and keeping everyone’s curious attention focused on it and his necrosis predicament…And he did just that, and in so doing made wet contact with our tit and titillated our nipple…Which, being a part of a natural women, caused the little bugger it to well up in extreme agitation and extend, leaving us pretty much where we are now…Working back through the event and making logical detective type deductions, so we can ultimately see how it all may have in fact happened…And so, in the final analysis, we have no problem at all with what he did…Because under the circumstances, it was a brave and noble thing he did, to save his face and our tit from needless and prolonged humiliation in front of a bunch of gaping gawks, who have nothing better to do than to amuse themselves with antiquated rituals and the tiniest tiny boo-boos that may perchance occur in the commission of same…So, at the end of the day, it makes absolutely perfect sense to us, and we feel he is to be commended for a job well done under very trying conditions…Wouldn’t you agree, our love?”
“…Oh, not just dumb!” Lupita screamed inside her head. “…Dumb, as in a lobotomy!”
Sighing in relief– not because she had swallowed and then regurgitated all of that garbage, but because she had finally shut up, Flinton smiled and said profoundly, “…Yes.”
       “…And?...Anything further?”
       “Well, how about: All’s well that ends?” Flinton poetically mused.