Knickerbocker Glory Spoon
they say if you sup with the devil you better use a long spoon and i'm guessing they mean a really long one like you used to get at wimpys so you could scrape up the cherry at the bottom of your knicker-bocker glory. not just a soupspoon or something.
so anyway she, my ex-friend, sat in my chair with her new feathered hair and said how our flat was 'too new' 'too white' had 'nasty lights', and how elena was horrible and how she hated her, and i batted her comments away like they were horrible moths or mosquitos trying to tangle in my hair.
'i hate elena,
SWAT! 'oh, really? i think she's ace.'
then moth flutters back, a different colour. 'er i mean, yes, she's funny and interesting' [insert sneer here, quickly morphing into a charming smile, tongue clasped between teeth, eyecontact held just a moment too long.]
me i'm remembering when that look worked on me like a drug and i'm checking to see if it still is working - poking my arms secretly to see if they're tingling, biting my lips to feel if they're trying to smile back at her.
she takes a sip of tea. 's'a bit new, your flat, innit?'
SWAT! 'i love the newness. it's kind of like we're taking the flat's virginity!'
flutter back: 'mm. must be good not to have everyone else's dirt to clear up'.
swat, flutter, for a whole hour. tomorrow i'm going to the last wimpys in england, the one opposite the cinema in greenwich, and i'm going have a knickerbocker glory and sneak the spoon into my bag after. i think i might be needing it.