Spirit Intoxicating Babe in the Woods

by Monique Saier

Eddie startles as Serita pulls up with her SUV, sitting half-asleep on the porch with his buddy, Milton, in the weak winter sun. She peers over to them, her cheeks flushed. The heater in the car had been on full blast the entire way home. Stupid rain caught her when she left the mall, soaked her arms and legs.

Eddie scrambles out of his chair.

“Aw, there she is!”

As usual, her cue to go into shut-off mode. He’s been throwing his weight around the house since Irvin, his cousin, left her. Ran off with that social media editor floozy at the local sports bar.

Swiftly she opens her door and swings her curvy legs out of the scorching cockpit, wearing tight jeans and thigh-highs.

“Hey, Lady Godiva!” he calls out, scowling, his eyes hooked on her high heels crushing the immaculate snow. He elbows Milton, watches her dab the sweat from her forehead and cleavage. “She’d better have some chicken wings. I’m starving.”

He gets a hard look. Come hell or high water; she had to return with that flat-screen, especially if it was only going to be the three of them for Christmas. 

Stuffing the hankie into her bra, she jumps out of the SUV, paces towards Eddie.

“Well, issit working now?”

“What?”

“The washing machine?”

“Was Rome built in a day?”

“Can I wash now?”

“Patience is the virtue. Got somethin’ to eat?”

“Did you look at it yet?”

“Not yet,” Milton chips in with Eddie giving him a dirty look.

“Bravo guys, 2 pm already!”

Eddie stretches out his legs, Milton looks down to the ground.

“Low sugar levels, ya know.”

“Really? Low sugar levels? Both of ya? Getting that flat-screen was a miracle, ya know!”

Eddie folds his arms, pretends to be distracted by the neighbor’s car pulling in across the street.

Serita paces back to the SUV with their eyes glued on her legs. From the passenger seat, she grabs a tub of KFC, slams it down in front of them.

“Bon appetit,” she grunts, before snatching her shopping bags.

Eddie opens the KFC tub, inhales the smell of freshly fried chicken wings.

 “Whoah, nice and hot. Now for a couple of Budweisers,” he pushes his luck, while she slams the boot hard and drowns out his voice.

Whirling around with her shopping bags slung around her arms, she quickly heads for the kitchen, fed up with Eddie.

Her heart suddenly stops, and she lunges back like a cornered cat. Dan, her estranged neighbor, is suddenly standing right in front of her.

“Hey,” Dan greets her wearing an unbuttoned shirt, his six-pack peering through a sweaty t-shirt underneath.

“Hey...yourself,” she retorts, battling to look straight at him. Thanks to Jax, Irvin’s Jack Russel. The little troublemaker dug up Dan’s beloved dead cat straight after they moved in here.

“Who’s this?” Eddie demands, his mouth full.

“Thought you might need a hand with that,” Dan grins at her.

Gnawing on his chicken wing, Eddie gets up.

“Aren’t you the guy with the dead, dug-up cat?”

“Lay off, Eddie,” she summons him back.

Milton gets up, wiping his hands on his pants, and pulls Eddie away.

“Washing machine as in now, Dude,” he burps lightly.

“Alright, already! Just keep your grubby paws to yourself,” Eddie scowls, sizing Dan up all the way to the laundry.

 As Serita watches Dan unloading the flat-screen, she regains hope that they can bury the hatchet after all. The coldness between them is truly regrettable. After all, he appears to be really nice. If the spirit of Christmas was waving its magic wand around her for a change? Could she rectify that unfortunate incident?

“Something to drink?” she asks upon reaching the kitchen. Dan just pants, embracing her flat screen.

“Um, the two chicken-wingers finished all the beer. I only got some schnapps left,” Serita sighs, looking through the cupboard.

“No worries, something strong’s good.”

Smiling, she scrambles for a proper glass, pours him the old peach schnapps.

Quickly he downs it.

“All fixed up,” he gasps with glazed eyes and passes out.

When looking down at the label on the bottle, she startles: “Rectified Spirit.”

Monique writes short stories and blog posts for online publications and can be reached at mquewrites@gmail.com.