Tastytooter
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2002
- Posts
- 672
monsterpiece theatre, take two
Subtropical
We invited our new neighbor over for lunch one afternoon, five days after the moving vans had left, or been returned to the rental place, and the stack of folded cardboard boxes that sat on the curb had been removed by the recycling truck. We stood in her doorway and told her sandwiches, salad, and lemonade were ready if she and her children were interested, and within minutes the seven of us trod on the brown and gold leaves that littered our lawn and headed inside. We’d wanted to offer a picnic but the early autumn air was chilled just below the point where brisk becomes uncomfortable.
Her children took to our dog, Donald, immediately, dropping to their knees to pet him while he lay on the floor, offering a ball for fetching. I asked her to sit and went to the kitchen for the pitcher, but when I held it, the glass was warm. I sipped, and the lemonade was tepid, at best. The ice trays in the freezer, when I lifted them from the top shelf, splashed warmish water on my hands. TV dinners, popsicles, ice packs, bags of green beans…everything in the freezer was limp and defrosted, and now dripping water all over the kitchen floor. Puzzled, I brought the lemonade to the living room anyway and noticed that I was suddenly sweating. My wife asked if I was alright as I wiped my brow and I nodded, but noticed the dark spots under my armpits. Our neighbor smiled and tried not to notice that I, alone of everyone in the house, was suddenly a mess.
Back in the kitchen the lettuce had wilted. A ball of molders clay I toyed with each morning while I ate my breakfast was hard, as if it had been fired and was ready for a coat of paint. The wallpaper in the kitchen was loose at the seams, and I thought I saw a blob of glue run down the wooden trim. I could feel the heat in the living room, too, but no one else spoke, seemed to mind or even notice when the windows fogged over. Our neighbor was charming and smiled warmly at me whenever I spoke, which was rare, because I began to feel feverish.
After lunch I laid on the couch with all the fans in the house washing me in breeze, and a cold towel on my head. I slept all afternoon and evening and woke at midnight, finally cooled down, and bewildered. My wife was already asleep, so I double checked the lock on the front door and headed for the bedroom when a light in the window of the house next door caught my attention. I stood at the living room window and watched the silhouette of our neighbor move until it was obscured by the gathering mist on the pane.
Subtropical
We invited our new neighbor over for lunch one afternoon, five days after the moving vans had left, or been returned to the rental place, and the stack of folded cardboard boxes that sat on the curb had been removed by the recycling truck. We stood in her doorway and told her sandwiches, salad, and lemonade were ready if she and her children were interested, and within minutes the seven of us trod on the brown and gold leaves that littered our lawn and headed inside. We’d wanted to offer a picnic but the early autumn air was chilled just below the point where brisk becomes uncomfortable.
Her children took to our dog, Donald, immediately, dropping to their knees to pet him while he lay on the floor, offering a ball for fetching. I asked her to sit and went to the kitchen for the pitcher, but when I held it, the glass was warm. I sipped, and the lemonade was tepid, at best. The ice trays in the freezer, when I lifted them from the top shelf, splashed warmish water on my hands. TV dinners, popsicles, ice packs, bags of green beans…everything in the freezer was limp and defrosted, and now dripping water all over the kitchen floor. Puzzled, I brought the lemonade to the living room anyway and noticed that I was suddenly sweating. My wife asked if I was alright as I wiped my brow and I nodded, but noticed the dark spots under my armpits. Our neighbor smiled and tried not to notice that I, alone of everyone in the house, was suddenly a mess.
Back in the kitchen the lettuce had wilted. A ball of molders clay I toyed with each morning while I ate my breakfast was hard, as if it had been fired and was ready for a coat of paint. The wallpaper in the kitchen was loose at the seams, and I thought I saw a blob of glue run down the wooden trim. I could feel the heat in the living room, too, but no one else spoke, seemed to mind or even notice when the windows fogged over. Our neighbor was charming and smiled warmly at me whenever I spoke, which was rare, because I began to feel feverish.
After lunch I laid on the couch with all the fans in the house washing me in breeze, and a cold towel on my head. I slept all afternoon and evening and woke at midnight, finally cooled down, and bewildered. My wife was already asleep, so I double checked the lock on the front door and headed for the bedroom when a light in the window of the house next door caught my attention. I stood at the living room window and watched the silhouette of our neighbor move until it was obscured by the gathering mist on the pane.
