In b.e.d. with a Little Man
Jali's reading my mind. I never play these Little games, but this one was in the works already...you see, she's got this game she wants to play. A story that begins and ends in bed. The rule is that it must involve a meal. I feel like Slick Rick, sit back and enjoy my Little story...
I went to b.e.d. with a Little man the other day (I have never been out with a Little Person before). We had been planning this for two weeks, but I didn't know that he was going to suggest that we go to b.e.d. We've never been out before. I know it seems a Little fast, but in my defense, I've known him for Little awhile. He's married (y'all without sin can cast the first stone). He's been a mentor for me.
I got there first. I always do (I'm good in b.e.d. like that). I spent some time entertaining myself. Nobody seemed to mind as I took photos of the interior.
He's a Little Man. I wore Little heels. I towered foreheads above him. Admittedly, my forehead is rather large (no doubt due to my magnificent brain mass); but still I wished I had been in flats.
When he got there, he asked for a seat at a window. She only had large tables available. He said that we didn't need a big table. A Little one would be okay. I snicker under my breath. He ordered a bottled water. A Little one. I stifle myself. We talked about his Little wife. My Dad. Volunteer obligations. Weather. Guns and ammo (he has a Little .380). Life on the East Coast, in the South, and in the Midwest.
I am dying inside. I cannot resist the urge to make Little comments. But, he is important, and I am his guest. I keep my Little mouth shut.
We order a meal. It takes forever. As the food arrives, the server (Rebecca) informs me that the cook has broken his knuckle. My stomach flips as I imagine my knuckle and gouda sandwich.
We enjoyed our Little selves. I finished first. I always do. I let him finish. We licked our Little fingers. Rebecca asks us if we would like a Little dessert. I snort, and a Little snot comes out of my nose.