No More Puke Sauce

Skeptical Eve and Curious Dennis sat down with some cheap nachos and watched the news.

“Do you have an aversion to using real cheese when you make nachos?” Eve asked Dennis with a slight pull of annoyance in her voice.

Dennis was proud of his nachos with the sick sauce from a can. “Why does it always have to be like this, Eve?  Why do even simple questions from you sound like…an interrogation.  Why must you judge everything I do?”

Eve smiled and handed Dennis a napkin.  She could have wiped off the small glob of cheese formed near the corner of his mouth, but it was more fun to watch him take huge swipes across his face to seek and destroy it.

“I am superior, Dennis.  Don’t forget that.  I know what’s best.  And when it comes to nachos, I personally don’t like feeling as if I am sitting in some damn bleachers at a basketball game.  I prefer real cheese.  This is not rocket science.”  She picked up the remote and changed the channel to CNN.

“Whatever,” mumbled Curious Dennis.

Eve raised herself higher on the sofa cushion.  She turned her steely blue eyes into the core of the soul of Curious Dennis.  He swallowed hard and tried to act nonchalant.  He looked quite chalant.

“Did you just say whatever to me, Dennis?” asked Eve with the stinging edge of Joan Crawford’s voice burning at the core of her remark.  It was so very Joan Crawford-ish.

Curious Dennis shifted away from her on the sofa.

Eve bored him with her Joan Crawford gaze. “Did you say whatever?  Dennis?  Is that what you said?”  She stood up and flung her napkin to the floor.  “Answer me!”

“Sorry…….sorry……so sorry…” squeaked Curious Dennis.

“Never again, Dennis!  Never again will you say whatever to me!  And never again will you make nachos using this puke sauce!  No more puke sauce!”  She smiled and sat down.

“Okay, now that we have that under control, let’s watch the news.”

Dennis set his nachos on the table and looked morose.   If he could be anywhere else, he would go there.  But he was stuck so he just sat there and looked morose.

“Why so morose?” asked Eve.

Dennis shrugged.

Eve reached over and bopped him in the shoulder.  “It’s good we have the whole puke sauce thing fixed, right?  Right, little chick pea, dancing ferret, honey cake?”

Dennis nodded.  Deep in his heart he knew he would never be able to eat nachos again.  That experience had been ruined for life.  But that was a small price to pay for basking in the glory of Skeptical Eve, world-class detective and solver of unsolvable mysteries.  Yes, losing nachos forever was a small price to pay.

Dennis smiled a huge fake grin and said, “No more puke sauce.”

 

 

Eve is Back

Eve’s been away for quite some time.  But she needs to come back to the world of Cyberland and do a bit of romping around.  She is planning to garage her fancy new car and take up residence in an old VW van.  Along with her pals Murmur and Lulu.  Things are heating up.

Curious Dennis will be along for the ride, but only to carry the heavy stuff and stand in the line of stray bullets.  He might also offer his empty head for clobbering with blunt objects….as is often done by bad guys.

Stay tuned.

Butt Foam is Not an Aphrodisiac

Skeptical Eve and Curious Dennis turned off the television and looked at each other in disbelief.  They had been watching the primary results and both were shocked at Santorum’s ability to grab even one vote.  “Does his name really mean butt foam?” asked Dennis incredulously.

“Afraid so,” said Eve dismissively.  She reached down to tie her shoes and looked back over her shoulder at Dennis.  “Don’t let that give you any ideas, buster.  You said we were going sleuthing tonight.  We need to do something perilous.  So saddle up and pack the sandwiches.” 

Mmmmmmm…..Churros

Why should Eve care about what people thought of her and the things she did with Curious Dennis?  He was handsome, stupid, and willing to do whatever she wanted.  As far as Eve was concerned, he was perfect.  But yet, she had a hard time facing her family.  For some reason, they still hung on to the idea that she was pure and virginal.  Little did they know that chapter of her life ended when she was just 14 years old and spending too much of her summer days with Andy, the boy who lived down the street.  Handy Andy.  And it progressed from there.  Curious Dennis had taken things to a whole new level.

In spite of her vast experience, Eve was no slut.  She was bound and determined to find the culprit who called her a slut.  Once her father had changed into dry pants, he might be of some use.  She turned to Agnes and said, “How are those churros coming?  I’m hungry!  Nothing like some hot grease and sugar to get me in the sleuthing mojo this morning!”

Agnes smiled lovingly at Eve.  Ever since Eve’s mother had been killed by crocodiles in central Florida, Agnes had taken over the role and filled the shoes of the missing mother.  That was almost 18 years ago, and the two had formed a strong bond, so it made sense that Agnes worried every time Eve went off on some sleuthing lark.  She worried more when the larks involved the word “slut.”  Her almost-daily dalliances with Eve’s father atop the washing machine didn’t give her a lot of room to talk, but she really did worry about Eve and her reputation in the community.

The kitchen was filled with the delicious scent of cinnamon clinging to the greasy dough.  Agnes wrapped the end of a churro carefully and handed it to Eve.  There they stood – two horny bitches in the kitchen with steaming, sweet phallic treats.  They locked eyes and winked.  Agnes smiled and said, “Careful.  It’s hot.  Take your time and savor it.”  Eve smiled back and said, “I love to nibble.  I can handle the heat.  But I want to finish before it gets cold.”

And they gnawed away, pushing away any thoughts they may have had about each other.  Eve would find the slut-slinger.  It was only a matter of time.

The Plastic Owl Message

Eve came down the steps in the soft light of dawn and stumbled over her drug-addicted father.  Not too many people knew about the drug addiction because not too many people had ever been in their house first thing in the morning to trip over him.  This was a common thing for dear Eve.  She called for the housekeeper to come help her hoist him (alliteration) into an ornate wing-back chair.

“Agnes!” she cried.  “Poppa has fallen again.”

Agnes appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron and pushing sweaty strands of hair off her forehead.  She had been working for the family ever since Eve’s mother died in a mysterious accident with a giant squid.  Since squids leave no evidence of ever being alive, the forensic details have always remained sketchy.  It is safe to say there was a fair amount of mucus involved.  Agnes was wide of hip and stern of mind, and Eve’s father adored her.  When Eve was off doing something with her friends, Agnes would often entice him to join her for a quick boink atop the washing machine – where she always set it for an extra spin/rinse.  Enough said.

Agnes looked annoyed.  After all, she had been busy in the kitchen trying to make churros from scratch.  Everyone knows you need a churro machine thing to do it, but Agnes insisted it could be done with a contraption she had made from an old caulking gun.  If Leonardo Da Vinci had not been gay, he would have probably been her great great great great grandfather.

Agnes grabbed hold of Eve’s father with a firm hold around his neck.  One good yank and he woke up quickly, staggering to his feet.

“Get up, you old ass,” she barked lovingly.

He stumbled to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair.  He looked down and saw a huge, growing stain covering the front of his pants.

Eve cried with disappointment, “Poppa!  You’ve pissed yourself again!”

Agnes huffed and scratched her ample bosom.  “You aren’t going to sit in that ornate wing-backed chair, little mister!  Get out of here now and go take a shower.”  She gave him a friendly shove and he slowly ambled down the hall.

Eve looked at Agnes quizzically.  “Why does my poppa fall all the time?”

Agnes pulled Eve into that ample bosom and squeezed her until she saw stars.  Eve saw the stars, Agnes just squeezed.

“He has an inner ear disorder,” Agnes lied snakily.

Just then, a large bird smashed through the picture window!  Agnes and Eve jumped and ran to see about the poor bird.  When they got close, it was apparent that the bird was one of those fake owls that people put on their roofs to scare away pigeons.

“Why, it’s nothing but a decoy!” exclaimed Eve.  “I wonder who would throw such a thing through our window!”

She bent down and examined the owl.  She turned it over slowly and saw a scribbling written in Sharpie.  The words chilled her marrow, and there is nothing much worse than cold bones like that.

EVE IS A SLUT

She turned to Agnes and said, “Bring on those churros, mi amiga housekeeper!  I need to do some sleuthing today!”

Agnes gazed evenly at Eve and asked, “Why would anyone say that about you, Eve?  Are you letting Curious Dennis have his way with you?

Eve never liked to see Agnes upset.  So she lied to her.  “Just to second base.  I promise. ”

Relieved, Agnes put her arm around Eve’s shoulders and led her into the kitchen.  “Let’s not keep that hot grease waiting.  And after what your father did this morning, he deserves a cold churro.”

Players in Place

After some careful consideration, Eve decided to keep both Lu and Murmur as her friends and sleuthing partners.  She simply didn’t have the time to train someone new in the art of doing everything her way, adoring her every idea, and never asking to borrow the car.  Sometimes, you simply go with what you know works.

Curious Dennis was also on the keeper list.  He adored her unconditionally and was dumb enough to do anything she asked.  In addition, he never learned to drive a manual transmission, so the car issue was never raised with him either.

Okay, it’s time to get busy with the story now that all the players are in place.

A Night For Pondering

Eve took a moment and pondered the usefulness of her two friends.  For the most part, one was a bit dense and the other was an opportunist at heart.  Eve considered sending them emails that said, “Get thee behind me, oh users and imbeciles.”  But she thought the effort might be wasted.

So she decided to just wait and see.  She had a 12-pack of Dr. Pepper in the fridge.  When the 12th can was finished, she would decide what to do.  She had to get started writing her story pretty soon, and she wanted to be certain her two pals were a good fit.  Would she keep both Lu and Murmur?  Or just Lu?  Or just Murmur?  Or would she start over and pore over her list of 1,967 Facebook pals to fit the bill?

Curious Dennis knew his time was coming.  But like the well-know heroine of a famous Civil War film, he was content to wait.   He eyed the living room draperies with suspicion, however. 

Eve backed her red Lotus out of the driveway and sped down the tree-lined avenue just over the speed limit.  There was a sweating Dr. Pepper nesting in the wrist-friendly cup holder near the console.  One can down, eleven to go.  No need to tally the peanut butter cups lying open in the CVS bag on the seat next to her.  This was a night for pondering.

Dennis Gives Advice

Curious Dennis looked at Eve and said, “Shit or get off the pot.”

It had an impact.

Creeping in the Museum

Skeptical Eve got some first-hand experience the other night when she was called upon to check out a suspicious alarm.  She was assigned to run around a very dark museum with a very nice police officer who insisted on going into all the rooms with a flashlight high over his head.  It was amazing.

Eve stood in the deserted parking lot with only the moon-swaddled light of a single lamp for company.  The park was a dangerous place at night, and Eve knew when to call for help.

Help arrived in the form of two police officers.  One was a Slavic-born giant of a man, and the other looked like the son of the bald cartoon floor cleaner guy that we all know and love.  Handsome and hairless, he infused Eve with confidence and a burning need to question the old wive’s tales about the sexual prowess of men with large feet and/or lack of hair.  She wondered about it as she followed him through the door.  It was better than thinking about the possibility that a manical serial killer might be lurking in the darkness.  Serial killers are hard enough to deal with in the daylight, so this was complicated. 

They crept up the back stairs of the museum, noiseless in their rubber-soled shoes. 

To be continued……..

Gypsies at the Pier

So what is up with Sausalito?  They have not allowed gypsies of any sort in that sleepy little town for years!  But then….this was a dream.  All things are possible.

We know that the gypsy has intoxicating humor.  She could even make selling shaved ice funny!  Goodness knows what else she could shave!

Skeptical Eve was also in Sausalito solving The Mystery of the Alcatraz Choir Boys.  It involved knives, mysterious birds, and mystery meat in the prison cafeteria.

There is a tambourine in this story.  One that the gypsy does not play well.  But with all the ribbons and tinkling things attached, who really cares?

Skeptical Eve and Murmur bought some shaved ice for themselves and for Curious Dennis.  Eve had no intention of letting Dennis actually eat his ice.  She had other plans for that delicious cone of sweet, frozen water. 

Gypsies at the pier.  Hmmmmm……  Can any of them play a tambourine?