Divergence #5

The good lady pressed herself against me, like a cat with matted fur.

I've got something special for you... Downstairs...

She purred exotically.

My pulse quickened, all the blood in my body wheeking down into my mainbrace.

Downstairs eh? I wondered if she had gotten my face tattooed on one of her fine buttocks. Like a farmer's brand emblazoned on a sheep.

I tried replying without sounding like Barry White.

What's going on, baby-girl, you looking for some pork crackling?

I said in an odd high-pitched voice, bizarrely managing to sound simultaneously both American and Welsh.

She pulled away and smiled deliciously.

Come and see. You will love it.

She tugged at me, although not in the himjiminy good way, towards the stairs.

All the way down we went until I was bustled into the kitchen.

What's going on?

I mewled like a baby cat. All thoughts of briny hanky-panky evaporating from my mind.

The good lady motioned me to sit at the table and made a shhh'ing gesture with a finger.

I sat and waited. The oven door clanged and I heard the clink of cutlery on plates. A plate was then banged down before me. The good lady sat opposite, smiling proudly with her own plate.

I looked down with testicle-aging horror at the quivering, half congealed mass on my plate.

What... What is it?

I asked timidly. Half terrified of the answer.

It's a YUM-LETTE!

The good lady cried loudly. Her face fizzing with joy.

I wondered briefly if she had been at the morning-wine again.

A yum-lette? What in the hells name of dandelions is that?!

Taste it! You will never be able to tell the difference between this and a real omelette. I guarantee it!!

We looked at each other over the plates holding the sad broken things that she called yum-lette's

Shaking my head, I picked up a fork to pierce my yum-lette. Levering the side of my fork into it, I wedgied off a slice.

And ate it.

Huurggh.

I said as it entered my mouth. It was fetid and about as welcome in there as a tramp's penis.

I chewed forlornly attempting to smile for the good lady. The mulch in my mouth was like wet bread and it tasted exactly how hot feet smell.

As the slithery filth wormed its way into my gullet, I had to fight hard not to spew it back up.

Do you like it? It's really healthy. Chickpea water, Tofu and hummus whipped together. We can adapt it for all sorts of recipes!

She was excited. Her words tumbling over one another and hard to make out.

I braced myself and lifted up another slither of the soggy, vaguely spongey stuff.

I didn't have the heart to pierce her delusions of this being anything other than shit.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was more VOM-lette thanyum-lette.

It's lovely?

I ass-squeaked.

Before I could spontaneously combust from lying so hard I leapt up from my seat and dashed around the table to give her a peck on the cheek.

Lovely as it is though, I gotta fly. I'm on a case!

I ran to the coat-stand and picked up my long coat and fedora.

Catch you later, my little falafel!

I escaped out of there before I was made to eat any more of her fevered imaginings that passed for food.

---

The cloying bitter taste of the VOM-lette stayed with me on my train journey into town.

I was so preoccupied by trying to wipe my tongue on the back of my hand that I didn't notice my feet take me to my old workplace instead of to the bus stop to Ganymede.

BoomDawg!!

I looked up in alarm as I heard a distressed shout from the alleyway that ran along the back of the building.

A van was being driven out at speed and hanging out the back door was a DBA I vaguely recognised. Was that MilkSlice?

It was.

I broke into a run but the van was picking up speed and pulling away.

BoomDawg!!

He yelled again before a writhing set of limbs pulled him into the dark depths of the vans interior. The door slammed shut and the van swung around a corner.

What the fuck? That was MilkSlice! But who had taken him?! More importantly, where were they taking him?

My head was churning like a coeliac's bowels after a glass of milk.

I spat at the ground. The VOM-lette still churning my mouth parts up. I had caught a glimpse of the van's registration plate. I took out a pen and a scrap of paper and made to write it down.

A meaty first enclosed my pen hand in an iron grip.

Not so fast, BoomDawg.

I turned...

And screamed.