Page 70 of Bride of Choice

“Well, Kooky wooky? You comin’ or what? Day’s-a-wastin’, roomie! Get the lead out!” Dancing out the door, I went straight for Baby. Pulling a fruit called a cor out of my purse that was somewhere between an apple and a pear taste wise, as deep a purple as a plum, and shaped like a wrinkled, baseball sized walnut, I held it out to my lil snookywookums in offering.

I was so her favorite. And if I wasn’t, I planned to be well before Kooky caught on to my nefarious plans.

I could build a gated area to house her near my hut. She’d love it there!

I was deluding myself. This was her home. She lived here. A gal could dream, though!

“Off to the drop off point, Gerald! So no one is shamed by our unholy, unmatrimony-ed roommate agreement! Tally ho! Onward forth and some shit!”

Kooky raised a single eyebrow daring me to repeat a single word of that nonsense to his face.

Grinning winningly, I laughed.

By the time we’d reached Dorothy’s, we were both snort-laughing and Kooky wasn’t arguing one bit about being called Gerald.

“Better Jer-hold… Fuzzsticles, Lassie,” he admitted, which naturally set me off again.

“See ya at dusk! Happy hunting, Gerald!” I called out as we parted ways. Baby was content to graze on all the tall grass along the back pasture, as I thought of the section of open area off to the side, sitting adjacent to Dorothy and her gang’s place.

“Not my sibster,” Dougie grumbled out the side of his mouth as the back door swung open and he reluctantly held it open for me.

“I believe your daddy said I’m more of something of an auntie to you,” I tossed back with a wink, then shoved the wooden box filled with cookies for his mother at him.

“What this?” he grunted out.

“Poop cookies! My specialty!” I lied.

Chocolate brownie sweet grass cake cookies, as I lovingly called them, were now a favorite of Dorothy’s. I had her hooked. I just didn’t shape the ones I gave her into little turd nugget shapes. It wasn’t exactly like my premade box mix treats mixed with sweet grass of before, but in some ways they were so much better. The beans they grow and grind into a paste or dry out to grind coarsely or into a fine powder, made an excellent tea colored, white chocolate and vanilla tasting substitute.

“Coast clear, Big Lu?” I asked Lukar, who was sitting at the shortened kitchen table, a rounded shape without all those extender pieces in the middle to lengthen it.

“Clear, Leetal Jo.” Lukar’s hand shot up and he absently tossed me a thumbs up.

Ugh. Dorothy and her mates rocked.

“Toodles,” I called quietly, and then hurried to step out.

“Beed safe! No troubles!” Lukar called after me.

“Lil ol’ me? Pshaw,” I joked, turning to give him an innocent look.

He simply pointed at his nose, then me, effectively calling me out.

Grinning, I laughed, waiting until he looked away to stick my tongue out childishly at Dougie snickering behind him at the end of the hall, one of my brownie bites in his hand, ready to pop it into his treat swindling maw.

“Eat too many and those’ll give you the shits, bubby-nephew,” I singsonged as I stepped out. “And if that doesn’t fudge you up, I find out you didn’t save any of those for your mama, you’ll be crapping yourself for an entirely different reason!”

“See?! See, Da-ya? She means to me!” Dougie burst out.

“Those Mama’s?” Lukar grunted out curtly.

There was a long pause from Dougie that I stopped for, waiting just outside to see what happened next. After a mumbled reply from Douglas, there went that lovely, music to my ears, resounding clap, and Dougie yowled, making it all that much sweeter.

It was a bit of a walk to Rosa’s from here, but I had plans for a few short stops on the way.

I was several huts down and debating on whether to pop in at Boog’s now or next time when I spotted movement, following the shadow of a being laying in wait for me to walk past.

Feeling myself freeze up, panic trumping my fight response, holding me firmly in place, I was praying for a thaw before the danger was known, when I heard him.

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