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RiskBernard replied in kind, reaching out to shake her hand with a pleased smile.
"Nice to meet you too, Evie. And noted- pastries twice a week... I'd say Mondays and Fridays. Unless you want some any other time of the week, in which I'd be happy to oblige."
Of course he wouldn't mind buying a pretty woman something sweet. He still had his hot chocolate, though, and a plate of pastries, so he wasn't getting up to leave. So he gave her a wide smile and a wave.
"Talk to you later, friend."
And that was that.
Hot chocolate, the Friday half-dozen of pastries, Evie, and her coffee (Bernard still didn't like coffee), at their usual table.
Normally he started off with a friendly good morning and maybe asking her if she was adding nuts or marshmallows this time, despite knowing full well that she never did, but he was so perturbed that he couldn't manage it. Instead, he stared blankly at his favorite pastry (three were his three favorites, the other three were Evie's three favorites), and slowly put it down- which was unheard of, because he usually ate all of them.
Finally, he simply said, "I fried my microwave last night. With my hand."
Last night, he was heating a cup of water, so he could steep some tea and read it along with a book. Except when he touched the metal side when opening the microwave door, the microwave popped, electricity had fizzled from his hand into the microwave, and the microwave died, utterly and completely.
Looking at Evie, he asked, "I touched my microwave, and I, I dunno, electrocuted it? Or something? I don't even know. I touched it and stuff popped and I was perfectly fine and my microwave was utterly dead. I opened it up and half the circuits were melted."
"Nice to meet you too, Evie. And noted- pastries twice a week... I'd say Mondays and Fridays. Unless you want some any other time of the week, in which I'd be happy to oblige."
Of course he wouldn't mind buying a pretty woman something sweet. He still had his hot chocolate, though, and a plate of pastries, so he wasn't getting up to leave. So he gave her a wide smile and a wave.
"Talk to you later, friend."
And that was that.
~~~ About a month later ~~~
Hot chocolate, the Friday half-dozen of pastries, Evie, and her coffee (Bernard still didn't like coffee), at their usual table.
Normally he started off with a friendly good morning and maybe asking her if she was adding nuts or marshmallows this time, despite knowing full well that she never did, but he was so perturbed that he couldn't manage it. Instead, he stared blankly at his favorite pastry (three were his three favorites, the other three were Evie's three favorites), and slowly put it down- which was unheard of, because he usually ate all of them.
Finally, he simply said, "I fried my microwave last night. With my hand."
Last night, he was heating a cup of water, so he could steep some tea and read it along with a book. Except when he touched the metal side when opening the microwave door, the microwave popped, electricity had fizzled from his hand into the microwave, and the microwave died, utterly and completely.
Looking at Evie, he asked, "I touched my microwave, and I, I dunno, electrocuted it? Or something? I don't even know. I touched it and stuff popped and I was perfectly fine and my microwave was utterly dead. I opened it up and half the circuits were melted."
