Leaving on a Jet Plane
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2015 by Lapi

There left only one, okay, two things I could ask her. Then I remembered a third.

"Is there a facility I might use? It's been a while?"

That accomplished, she was still covering her mouth when I returned, with my keen powers of observation, I interpreted that she had been laughing at me. She still was.

'The Sadist!' I thought, as I had really needed to go.

My second question arose, actually the noises from my 'tum tum' prompted it.

"You weren't just planning to serve tea and those cucumber sandwich things, were you. Rice, even, would do!"

I must have said something funny in that question, as she burst into uncontrollable laughter. It was more like a real 'belly laugh' would not have demolished me like her reaction to my earlier sincere question did.

I, never without a keen response to any situation, added, "If there's a good Chinese Establishment nearby, I would be more than pleased to pay for a 'Take Home' meal.

If I was into that ... like, on stage, or something ... her now rolling on the floor and gasping 'Stop, stop' might have been appropriate.

I failed to see the humour in feeding me a bit more than what I had seen so far. I might have mentioned I was not English. A burger, fries, Pizza ... even a Hot Dog would have been fine. Remembering that I was a guest in her home I did not mention Sushi or Sashimi as a repast.

She literally crawled to me, and pulled herself up. Mind you, she was still in near hysterics. She put her arms up as high as the porcelain doll might reach and gave me a big wet one. I was stunned. She could hardly reach my chin. Being the gentleman I am I knelt down and indicated where my lips were. That new tactic resulted in something very favourable.

I quickly followed it up with: "So, 'Take Home, ' or 'Delivery?'"

She was now like a drowning woman clawing for a breath. I was holding a wildcat in my arms. My suit was needing to be pressed, at least, if she ever stopped laughing. Mr. Chang had arrived during our festivities, (hers, [2] obviously, not mine), he was sitting on a table with a vase balanced near the edge.

"I dare not ask what you may do for an 'encore' but I assume Mei shall stop laughing by then. Was there something unpleasant with the 'cucumber surprises?' We have more if you would prefer them fresh with your tea?"

Instead of clawing, the midget I was holding or trying to hold was now pounding on my chest, tears rolling down her face. It seems instead of stopping, she found humour in her father's words, too.

What really just destroyed her was when he said, "or we can order Delivery".

I just gave up and said, "Sweet and Sour, Won Ton and two fortune cookies, in case I don't like number one. Mei ... you?"

How something that small could keep going for nearly seventeen straight minutes, laughing while either rolling on the floor or in my arms, and still not muss her long, dark, beautiful hair or smear her make-up ... well, unless you counted that kiss she gave me ... I will never figure out.

 
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