MemeCortex

Here’s part two of Dust Bunny knows best. I’ve an idea of what I’m going to try to write, but we’ll see.  Here goes:

Have we started yet? I think I just typed into a different window on my laptop. There’s a faint chance that I’ve just told my mum that I have terrible diarrhea after eating paella!

“The ingredients for paella are straightforward enough. The chorizo and the pork belly (with skin removed) can be cooked in the normal way. But you really need to be careful when you do the seafood bits.” He was listening to the tall dark-haired man behind the counter giving him advice on how to cook the night’s meal. His mind wandered across the lamb and the mince beef as the voice held him to the spot. It wasn’t an unbearable voice, just a commanding and controlling voice. Like a benevolent sergeant major. And he was interested, he just couldn’t keep focused long enough to take it in. He nodded as the man flipped over the silver, heat-sealed bag with the mussels in. “Good luck.”

“Will I need it?” he asked, looking at the bag.

“I mean for the date. Tonight.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Come back and let me know how it goes. I’ll do you a nice deal on some beef for the next one!” The man’s voice shot over his shoulder and out into the street. He was already thinking about the flowers and cutlery.

Ikea had some nice cutlery. He figured that the 365+ would be a good deal. But did he really have a need for the whole set? The date might not lead to anything and then all that money would be a waste. His bag was slung snugly over his shoulder (£10 from Habitat five years ago). It was tattered but reliable, with its unknown quantities of secret pockets. He casually scanned around and then flipped two forks into it. He circled and then fingered two more pieces in. After ten minutes and one crowd of busy Chinese students, he had eight knives, five forks and six spoons. You can’t be too mathematical about these things when you’re doing it on the ultra-cheap.

Would he need plates? Yes: his were old and had faded Thomas The Tank Engine logos on them. Faded logos weren’t exactly the right image on a first date. Deciding that he couldn’t fit any more into his bag without drawing the attention of the Ikea-bots, he begrudgingly picked up a blue bag and shoved a box of cheap plates in. At the checkout he smiled and engaged in a bit of aimless banter. “Going to rain later. Did you see the X Factor? I just nicked loads so I’m okay for a catalogue, thanks.” They laughed at it. Nobody would admit it, so it’s obviously just a joke? He even bought a hotdog on his way out of the store. But then pocketed some Dime bars. Buy one, steal one.

On the top of the bus, he snapped the end of the toffee bar. The chewy gunk didn’t mix well with the watery hot-dog flavour coating the roof of his mouth. Jamie wouldn’t approve. He liked it though, reminded him of Mum and Dad and trips to Skegness. “This is going to be bloody brilliant,” he said to no one in particular. The pensioner in front of him turned and smiled, nervously once she realised he was on his own. He snapped his mouth shut in a tight, self-content smile. Yes, Dust Bunny would be proved wrong.