"Oh, my maverick. What can you have to fear from, from," Sarah couldn't bring herself to utter the dread name of the Dark Lord.
"He can destroy me," said her beloved. "There is no room for warriors in this place."
Sarah pulled the silken cord hanging by the bed. Young Bristol appeared, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"You rang, my lady?"
"Take the infant Sprig--"
"Trig, my lady."
"You dare correct me?" Sarah responded. She could feel that her maverick, beside her in the bed, was responding to her passionate outburst. "If I say he be Sprig, then Sprig he shall be, don't ya know!"
"Aye, my lady."
"Take young Sprite to the nursery. See that his father is not awakened. Be quick about it!"
"Aye, my lady." She gathered the infant into unwilling arms and departed.
"Your untamed passionate spirit engorges me, my mavericka!" said Sarah's beloved.
Sarah smiled, and opened a drawer in the night table. She produced a small object.
"Shall I put some lipstick upon my own personal pitbull?" she said. "Once you go doggy, you never go back."
"If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about the answers." Thomas Pynchon, GRAVITY'S RAINBOW
"Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away." Philip K. Dick
My blog: http://www.roscoewrites.blogspot.com/
Updated On: 10/10/08 at 07:03 PM
