Balalaika Itch, his real name too obtuse for mention, although it was really of Russian extraction, quickly caught on to their ruse. He preempted the onslaught, or 'deluge of Aphrodite' as she would call it, before they'd sat down next to him, just like that, with a smile and a tray of goodies, three beers having joined the shots.
He decided he'd be a certain way. As neither of them appealed to him much, and besides he was only there to pick up the money owed him for delivering fliers to attract girls like these ones to this hell-awful-cellar-joint. In any case, he just wasn't in the mood for whatever nonsense they had in mind.
And they say Russian girls are easy, he reminded himself.
But, if they wanted to buy him a drink or two he had no objections to that, though he could have gotten it for free from the waitress just the same.
"Hi there," she said, which she figured for a greeting casual yet existentially alluding enough to stir his interest. It didn't seem trite when she thought about it, especially delivered to someone who hadn't heard it before. Though she had introduced herself in the same way to the last year's guy, who was all apple pie. To her surprise, and let's be honest, disappointment, he said nothing, took the beer greedily, quaffing it down, which had Glenda following suit so that both downed them in no time - a succession of guuulps from him and gurgle-guuuuulps! from her - soon after banging their glasses down onto the table.
Ugh!, was her immediate impression, which she made a note to overlook for the sake of cultural differences - on his part at least. He must be thirsty; it is hot, she reasoned. Glenda, on the other hand, was hopeless.
Why did she have to do that - Glenda-Blender, can't you just go around the corner and see if I'm there? There's simply no way anything is ever going to happen with you here. 'I'm sorry but you just have this way of turning sexy into burlesque for children, she felt like saying.
And surely enough, minutes go by, and still, no more words were exchanged. Oddly, he didn't seem uncomfortable at all as he picked up a shot off the tray, and, as per cue, with Glenda on it too, they sweeped it, each bulging their eyes out while doing so.
It was then that she decided to follow suit, wondering what else she could do.
Since this guy obviously didn't speak much English and her Czech, Russian, Slovak was no good. Not good enough for 'hi there' either, as she only new the 'hi, 'hello,' and 'good day' in them.
Why couldn't she content herself with that guy who followed them around on occasion, extolling on the genius of Slavoj Zizek, and be done with it. Why not? Because she would have to see him again. And again and again and again.
And as she thought this, Glenda peered at Balalaika and said 'my, what long eyelashes you have' bringing her paw to her lash and swooping it outwards like a crooked salute. Idiot, she thought. Go SOMEWHERE, Blender!
Nothing could have prepared her for what came next though. To her great surprise, Balalaika laughed, put his hand on Glenda's shoulder and said 'Would you like some ice-cream, around the corner' -pointing to the left and adding, 'there?'
Wait a minute. What's going on here?
In nothing short of jubilation, Glenda gurgled her answer 'yes!' as she sprang out of her chair.
'You two know each other, I see,' she pieced it together.
'No, ' someone said, or they both said.
What - aaah, you no like ice-cream. Summer...,' Balalaika reproached her.
What could she say? Yes, I-I like ice-cream in the su-,' was the best she could do when, cutting it short, Glenda elbowed her off, saying 'we'll be right back.'
Tuesday, August 7, 2007