Putting Responsibility Where It Belongs

B.J. Lawry

"Stop staring at me," I said.

"I have a right to stare at you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm protecting my integrity. I have to be careful what you put into me."

"Oh, you and your pride."

"Listen, I'm lovely. I'm buxom and delicate with a long, slender leg."

"You have a flat foot."

"That shows I have stability. More than you give me credit for."

I got up to go to the kitchen.

"And don't bring back that Doctor Pepper!"

I returned and flopped on the couch, glaring at the glass, which, of course, was glaring back at me. "And what am I supposed to bring back?"

"Oh..." A graceful sort of sway took place in front of my eyes. "How about a nice French champagne, perhaps several hundred years old."

I laughed.

"Don't you think I'm worthy?"

I laughed louder. "I bought you at Walmart, you..."

"Crystal, darling. Crystal."

"You're not crystal, you snob."

"They said I was crystal."

"They fooled you."

I tipped the bottle and barely touched the inside with Doctor Pepper.

"Ugh!"

"You'll like it."

"How can I like anything so... crude!"

"Make believe you're slumming."

"But it... itches!"

I drank, sputtering when the fizz hit my nose.

"I told you it was bad."

I wiped my face.

"Go back to the kitchen and see what else you can find."

"I'd better go to the store."

"Dom Perignon is good."

"You drive me to drink."

I swear that glass laughed.

Copyright ©2000 B.J. Lawry. All Rights Reserved.

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June, 2000 Issue #50

256 Words

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