Clash of the Avatars
I saw the Forces of God battle with the Forces of Satan today in the local bakery. Or maybe it was a couple of lunatics stomping on an innocent elf. It's so hard to tell.
I was waiting in line to get a loaf of sourdough. Tourist season has begun around here, and there were two tourists -- a guy and his wife -- in front of me, dithering about what kind of coffee they wanted. These were your usual "rich & retired" tourists, the most annoying members of the tourist beastiary. They often combine arrogance, rudeness, idiocy and the power of wealth in a single package.
On the third try, the guy finally decided that yes, he wanted a cup of coffee, and yes, he would like it to go, please. I heard the whole line behind me thanking their personal deities for helping the gentleman with his momentous decision.
I didn't mind waiting too much, really, because the lady working the counter, Norta, was one of my favorites. She's pretty and all, but what she really is is sexy. The way she moves, the way she looks at people when talking with them, is sexier than hell. I can tell from watching her over the past year that she doesn't do this on purpose. She doesn't behave any differently with the men or the women, the children or the adults. It's just how she is.
So I passed the time enjoying watching her. A festival is going on, and she was wearing a pair of short, cute little horns she picked up there. She wore them well, and they combined with her sensuous smile in an infernally erotic way that will undoubtably be fuel for my fantasies for quite some time. Perhaps, I thought later, she was having the same effect on the indecisive tourist. It would explain much.
Suddenly, the guy's wife pipes up.
"What do those horns represent, young lady?" She actually said "young lady". The tone of the question was such that if all the latte-sippers suddenly jumped up from their tables and upended them in preparation for a coffee-bar brawl, it wouldn't have seemed out of place.
"What do you mean?"
I didn't understand the lady's next question, but swore I heard the word "horny" in there somewhere. Norta looked a bit taken aback, then smiled uncertainly and said "no, they definitely don't mean that."
With that, the lady stormed out of the place, literally shoving aside a few customers to get to the door, dragging her husband along. There was a whiff of fear and anger about her, and she couldn't get out of the place fast enough.
Norta looked baffled. "What did she say?" I asked. "She asked if my horns meant I was a bride of Satan," she said, "but they're only elf horns!"
It is a curious battle indeed that leaves the victor unaware of the fight.
I was waiting in line to get a loaf of sourdough. Tourist season has begun around here, and there were two tourists -- a guy and his wife -- in front of me, dithering about what kind of coffee they wanted. These were your usual "rich & retired" tourists, the most annoying members of the tourist beastiary. They often combine arrogance, rudeness, idiocy and the power of wealth in a single package.
On the third try, the guy finally decided that yes, he wanted a cup of coffee, and yes, he would like it to go, please. I heard the whole line behind me thanking their personal deities for helping the gentleman with his momentous decision.
I didn't mind waiting too much, really, because the lady working the counter, Norta, was one of my favorites. She's pretty and all, but what she really is is sexy. The way she moves, the way she looks at people when talking with them, is sexier than hell. I can tell from watching her over the past year that she doesn't do this on purpose. She doesn't behave any differently with the men or the women, the children or the adults. It's just how she is.
So I passed the time enjoying watching her. A festival is going on, and she was wearing a pair of short, cute little horns she picked up there. She wore them well, and they combined with her sensuous smile in an infernally erotic way that will undoubtably be fuel for my fantasies for quite some time. Perhaps, I thought later, she was having the same effect on the indecisive tourist. It would explain much.
Suddenly, the guy's wife pipes up.
"What do those horns represent, young lady?" She actually said "young lady". The tone of the question was such that if all the latte-sippers suddenly jumped up from their tables and upended them in preparation for a coffee-bar brawl, it wouldn't have seemed out of place.
"What do you mean?"
I didn't understand the lady's next question, but swore I heard the word "horny" in there somewhere. Norta looked a bit taken aback, then smiled uncertainly and said "no, they definitely don't mean that."
With that, the lady stormed out of the place, literally shoving aside a few customers to get to the door, dragging her husband along. There was a whiff of fear and anger about her, and she couldn't get out of the place fast enough.
Norta looked baffled. "What did she say?" I asked. "She asked if my horns meant I was a bride of Satan," she said, "but they're only elf horns!"
It is a curious battle indeed that leaves the victor unaware of the fight.
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