Название | Pulpy and Midge |
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Автор произведения | Jessica Westhead |
Жанр | Юмористическая проза |
Серия | |
Издательство | Юмористическая проза |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781770561847 |
The four of them made their way to their seats, which were in the front row.
‘These are nice seats,’ said Pulpy.
‘The best,’ said Dan. ‘They’re company seats.’
Pulpy looked over at him, and Dan grinned.
‘Al never got company seats,’ said Pulpy.
‘Not that you knew about, anyway,’ said Dan. ‘I’ll bet he came here all the time. He just didn’t like to share à la yours truly.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Pulpy shook his head. ‘Al wasn’t really big on events.’
‘Then I guess you’d better get used to the new administration, because Beatrice and I love an event. Don’t we, Beatrice?’
She smiled at him. ‘We love all events.’ She turned to Pulpy and Midge. ‘Now, you two give me your tickets and I’ll figure out where everyone’s sitting.’
Pulpy and Midge handed her their stubs.
Beatrice squinted at their seat numbers. ‘Ooh! You’re next to me, Pulpy!’
‘And Midge is next to me!’ said Dan.
Pulpy and Midge glanced at each other. They all sat down and nobody said anything else for a while.
Then Midge said quietly, mostly to herself, ‘The ice is so pristine.’
‘Don’t you just adore her?’ Beatrice said to the men. ‘With her skirt and winter boots?’
‘She’s pretty adorable,’ said Dan.
Pulpy reached over and patted Midge’s knee. Her boots were black and puffy with Velcro straps, and they made her legs look more delicate than normal.
‘It’s getting cold,’ said Midge.
‘Do you want my coat?’ said Pulpy.
‘Yes, please.’
‘Excuse me, Dan.’ He took off his coat and reached across Dan to give it to Midge.
‘Look at that,’ said Beatrice. ‘He gives her his jacket when she’s cold.’
‘Huh,’ said Dan.
‘My husband never gives me his jacket.’
Dan shrugged under his heavy layer of sheepskin. ‘You don’t get cold.’
‘Sometimes I do. Sometimes I get very cold. Sometimes I get chilled right to the bone.’
‘Well, next time you do you just let me know,’ said Dan.
‘I will,’ said Beatrice. ‘Watch me.’
The rink was spread out below them, with ‘Ice Follies’ written across it in loopy red.
Pulpy ran his gaze around the big, blue circle once, twice, three times, and then the music started and two of the skaters in their costumes glided into view. One of them was dressed like the model elephant from outside and the other character was a fly, with a fuzzy black body and fast-flapping wings. The fly circled the elephant, and the elephant went down almost immediately.
‘Look at that freaky elephant!’ Dan said, and laughed. ‘Is he ever stupid!’
‘They’re all stupid,’ said Beatrice. ‘That’s why it’s called the Follies.’
‘They’re not stupid,’ said Midge, softly. ‘It’s all very calculated.’
‘That’s right,’ said Pulpy. ‘They’re smart enough to pretend to be stupid.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ said Dan, ‘but boy, that elephant is funny!’
‘Does anyone want any snacks?’ Pulpy asked. ‘I’ll make a run.’
‘No thanks,’ said Beatrice.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Dan, ‘we’ll keep Midge company!’
‘We sure will!’ said Beatrice, and the two of them smiled wide.
Pulpy looked at Midge in the skirt she’d selected. It was the one with what she said were palm fronds on it, but the skirt was black and the fronds were blue, so Pulpy always thought they looked like knives. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Midge nodded, not smiling.
When he returned to his seat, he said, ‘What did I miss?’
‘That elephant does not know how to skate,’ said Dan. ‘He just keeps falling!’
‘Midge was telling us about her candle business,’ said Beatrice. ‘She said you brought something to show us.’
‘Oh, um.’ Pulpy felt his shoulders go rigid. ‘I forgot it at the office.’
‘That’s a shame.’
Midge looked at him, but he looked away and dug his hand into his bag of treats. ‘Does anyone want a salted licorice?’
‘Licorice?’ said Beatrice. ‘With salt on it? Yuck!’
‘In it, actually,’ he said.
‘Always with the specifics,’ said Dan, nodding his approval. ‘I keep telling everybody you’ll go far, Pulpy.’
‘Midge?’ Pulpy offered her the bag.
She shook her head. ‘You and your Dutch sensibilities,’ she said, smiling. Then she turned back to the action on the rink.
‘Well,’ said Pulpy when the Follies were over, ‘we should get home.’
‘No, no, don’t go home!’ said Beatrice.
Dan shook his head and grinned. ‘Beatrice was saying to me earlier that she’d like us all to play charades at our place tonight.’
‘Yes!’ said Beatrice. ‘Charades!’
Midge looked at Pulpy.
‘Sounds nice,’ he said.
Midge looked away.
‘Now, we don’t want the husbands and wives being on the same teams,’ said Dan. ‘Let’s mix it up a little. Midge, you be on my team.’ He patted the spot next to him on the sectional.
Midge fitted herself into the corner of the suede L-shape and watched Beatrice shimmy across the room to sit next to Pulpy. ‘This is a soft couch.’
‘It is.’ Dan winked at her. ‘You sink right in.’
‘It’s new,’ said Beatrice. ‘This one here we had at our last place.’ She put her hand in the small space between her and Pulpy. ‘It’s a divan.’
‘Hmm,’ said Midge.
‘Don’t mind the boxes, by the way. We’re still unpacking.’
‘I didn’t see any boxes,’ said Pulpy.
‘Well, we’ve unpacked most of them, but still, there might be a few. You know what moving’s like.’ Beatrice stroked the divan.
Midge watched her. ‘We’ve been in the same spot for a while.’
‘Okay, charades!’ said Dan. ‘Who goes first?’
‘You have a fireplace,’ said Midge.
‘We do indeed! It came with the house,’ he said. ‘Want me to turn it on?’
‘Turn it – on?’
‘You got it. Watch this!’ Dan picked up a remote from the coffee table and pressed a button.
The fire flared to life and Midge’s eyes widened. ‘Oh my,’ she said.