The Shake Up

Jun 4, 2007

"Darling, do you know the capital of North Dakota?"

"Not in the Biblical sense of the word, but I believe it's called Bismarck."

"Did they invent the jelly filled donut there?" Janine asked.

"No. That might have happened in the other Bismarck." said Phillip.

"There's more than one?"

"Usually. American place names were often lifted from the Old World. A bunch of them have "New" tacked onto them like New York and New Jersey, but sometimes they just stole the name outright, like Manchester. Of course, I'm using some intuition and personal observation here. I haven't read any books on the subject."

"No books? No Google? No Wikipedia?"

“Nope. Just delirious experience and street savvy. Do you want to consult an expert."

Janine sat up straighter on the couch, and put the newspaper and pencil on the coffee table. She said, "I don't think a crossword puzzle warrants that much attention. It was good to hear you speak though. You haven't said two words all morning."

"Sorry. I don't feel chatty. I mean—I'm kind of grinding away in my head. It was inconsiderate. I'm guilty. I was just smoldering along and took it for granted that you were okay."

"I didn't mean to make trouble for you, Dear. I was studying you. I was half amused by your sporadic grunts and sighs. Finally, I had to shake you awake though. I grew tired of imagining what you were chewing on."

Phillip set his coffee cup on the table and took Janine's foot in his hand. He then ran another hand up the back of her calf and gently massaged some affection toward his lover's pleasure center. He was a touchy, feely accountant—and better looking than most of the brand. Janine was a nimble, Afghan Hound of a blonde with long features and erudite coolness in her voice that passes through one of those barely moving mouths.

She said, "My, my, you are feeling guilty, and now you're trying to soothe me. I want to know what you were thinking. Fess up, Mister!" The big toe of her free foot probed one of Phillip's arches while she made her demand for a confession.

"I was planning a caper, if you must know—but I am stuck. I can't decide whether, or not, my scheme will demand a murder, or not."

Janine brightened, "Murder! Plotting! May I be an accomplice? Will we need to hire henchmen? What is the motive: money or power or both?" She folded her arms across her chest and confided, "You—the erstwhile CPA! Ha! I thought you had a bit of larceny in your blood!"

"Oh ho ho!" Phillip laughed in baritone and slapped both of his thighs at once. "Truthfully, I was a little backed up and hoping that my coffee would kick in. The only thing to be murdered here is the mood. Sorry." He got up off the couch and made for peristaltic Nirvana saying, "Aren't you glad you grilled me?"

"Traitor! Liar! It could have been such fun! Please do reconsider! Someone must need killing!"