Page 22 of CowSex
“Oh my God, dude, that’s seriously funny.”
I stare at her as she continues to laugh. It’s infectious, and I actually feel myself grin.
“Why’s it funny?”
She clears her throat. “So, when I said I ain’t got a Scooby, I meant I didn’t have a clue. Scooby Doo—clue. When I said Kip, I meant sleep—”
“I thought Sooty was sleep?”
“Yeah, it is as well.” She shakes her head as if I should understand what she’s saying, when in fact, I don’t have a fucking Scooby.
“And the Old Bill are the police.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why not say what you mean instead of giving everything a different name? Scooby, Kip, Hank, and Bill. How the fuck is anyone supposed to understand what the hell you’re talking about?”
She chews on her lip again as she appears to think about my question.
“I don’t actually know. It’s just what we say where I come from. I’ll try to tone it down, Cowboy, don’t wanna have you all confused now, do we?”
She turns back towards the fridge, which is now beeping because the door has been open for too long. It only adds to the headache that talking to this woman and trying to work out what in the ever-loving fuck she’s talking about has given me.
Thankfully, she closes it before moving to search the cabinets.
“You want me to make you something?” she asks over her shoulder.
“I could eat. There’s steak in the fridge if you’re real hungry.”
“Nah, I was gonna do cheesy beans on toast.”
“I have no clue what that even is.”
She turns around so fast I jerk back in my chair.
“No way? Stop fucking about. You seriously don’t know what cheesy beans on toast are?”
“Not a Scooby.” I can’t help but grin as I answer. “And why the fuck would anyone put beans on toast? Is that really an actual thing you do over there?”
“Oh, Cowboy, you best drink your bourbon and hold on to your hat, because I’m about to rock your world.”
I sit back in my seat and watch as she pulls a can of baked beans from the cabinet and hands it to me.
“Would you open that, please? I can’t do it one-handed.”
“You should have that arm in a sling. It’ll help get some of that swelling down if you keep it raised.”
“Let me do this first, and then you can play doctor.” She winks. I turn back towards the kitchen counter and open the beans, hopefully hiding the fact that my jeans have become a little tighter.
I hand the opened can back to her and watch as she empties the contents into a pan, lights the burner, and sets the pan on the stovetop. She then gets the bread out of the cabinet and puts four slices in the toaster before getting cheese and butter from the fridge.
“Grater?” She asks.
“Excuse me?”
“Grater, for the cheese?”
