Tuesday 200 — one hundred twenty-seven
Rule #1: They’re all asps.
What in Cher’s name is a Tuesday 200?
“No, go ahead, I’m not that hungry.”
Was I only being polite?
TBF, it was our first date. I’ve never curled up to French cuisine, so when the waiter announced frogs as today’s appetizer, I passed.
“More for me,” he said, clearly more snake than charmer.
My BFF Jäzmyna says, “Rule #1: They’re all asps.”
Shoulda known when he said, “I’m Jack.”
Jack Asp, indeed.
He had zero intention of savoring that “delicacy.” No ma’am, just unhinged his jaw and gulped that poor creature’s whole head.
Without even a hiss of grace.
Fine, I said I wasn’t hungry. But any snake worth his new skin knows between first-date polite and self-starvation.
I mean, look at me. I’m one long smooth tube of reptilian rapture, even after last week’s chipmunk.
Everybody knows I’ve been slimming since my last shed.
Jäzmyna cried last time she saw me. “I ain’t seen you looking so fine since you won Miss Slithery at The Hiss.”
And yet there he is, paying me no mind, eyes as red the blood he’s tasting. Sucking down that critter like he ain’t ate for weeks. An abomination.
And me, losing the appetite I said I didn’t have.