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Message-ID: <44155asstr$1062148202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: mmtwassel@aol.com (mat twassel)
Subject: {ASSM} [Wedding] Mat Twassel: Cheerios and Milk
Date: Fri, 29 Aug 2003 05:10:02 -0400
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Cheerios and Milk 
for John and Souvie
by Mat Twassel
===================

Ellen's wedding dreams: the ruined church lawn, 
snout-sized flaps of torn up turf, circular holes a 
few inches deep. Hypothesis:  Roly-poly opossum, in 
earliest dawn, nosing the dew, prodding the soil, 
prying up snug tufts of grass to get at fat grubs.  
He gulps them down and waddles after others.

She makes the mistake of telling her sister.

"Uh-oh," Bonnie says. "It's a sign you're scared."

"Of what?"

Bonnie laughs.  "You'll find out. Want me to help 
you shave?  I could trim you extra close."

"Go 'way," Ellen says.

Across town Gilbert the groom pours a scant trickle 
of milk over cereal.

Big brother Barry laughs heartily. "Heaven forbid if
you make them soggy."

Gilbert dips a spoon. Crunches a mouthful of o's. 
"I like them crisp and crackly."

"Ah! Is Ellie a virgin?"

"Barry!"

"Aha! So you don't know.  I guess you'll find out.  
I'm betting she's tighter than a cheerio."

"Barry!"

"Just being nosy. Are you going to pack a jug of 
milk for the honeymoon? Something to soften her up.  
Don't skimp. None of that two percent stuff. Ellie 
deserves real cream."

"Get outa here."

"Don't worry--I haven't lost the ring yet."

In the schoolyard across from the church, boys are 
playing basketball. The goal has no net. From this 
distance, Gilbert can't tell whether the shots go 
in. 

Then he's kneeling at the altar. Ellen, beside him, 
holds a bouquet. She has the fuzzy stems clenched 
in her hands. Gilbert sees the gleaming pin. He 
knows what's going to happen, and it does. A tiny 
bubble of bright red blood wells up in the pad of 
Ellen's palm. She doesn't notice. An instant later 
he hears, "You may kiss the bride."

Gilbert worries that something will go wrong. What 
could go wrong? The veil might get stuck. He might 
miss her lips. The congregation might laugh. What 
if he gets an erection? What if she isn't pleased? 
What if ...

Ellen's eyes are open, happy, teasing, and then he 
is inside, and nothing matters, not even his 
erection, instant, profound, amazingly eager.

They glide to the hall on that single kiss.

She laughs. She dances. She dances with everyone. 
"Did you see how smooth the lawn was?" she asks 
her husband, and when he doesn't answer, 
she laughs. 

As they are leaving, Barry slips him a hundred. 
"Room service champagne," he says, winking. "In 
lieu of cream."

The hotel clerk, gleamingly bald, says, "You'all 
should have guaranteed the room." He scratches his 
scalp. "It's after midnight, you know."

Ellen squeezes Gilbert's hand.

"I'm just a teasin, kids. Have a nice night."

Room service is closed.  "It's okay," Ellen says. 
"Maybe we can have champagne for breakfast. Right 
now all I want is you."

She's never been wetter. Lubricious bliss. Her eyes 
are open, happy, teasing, and then he is inside, and 
nothing matters. Nothing but love.

Early the next afternoon they do have breakfast in 
their room. Champagne. Strawberries. Cheerios and 
milk. And each other.



===================
Cheerios and Milk 
for John and Souvie
by Mat Twassel
===================

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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