The Girl with the Chocolate Cake Eyes

(...and the fortune cookie lips)

So, where should the story start?

Yes, I think. I think, it starts right here…

"Carb low, raison, pouf."

She said.

Without hasitation.

I slightly pushed her eyes away. From the door. Crushed ice on minds.

The refrigerator freezed in glassen glimps.

Without hasitation.

She said:

"The if-nots. I haaave never promised you a nose garden, la-la..."

She sung.

"Huh..?"

I said.

My fingers grabbed for the brownie on a plate, but hopped to "Ermine Hysteria" aside, newest on the market, natural identic homogeneous flavour of musquash and myopia – "Strawberry" before straw – in form of a neckerchief, blistering plastic, nitrogen packed.

"Natterjack."

She tipped her nose and sended a message to both holes, meanwhile nabbing the cakie with her strapless shoulders.

My first week at business.

*