Up In Arms

by Mark Wutka

A finger pushed on a doorbell, located on a brass nameplate reading "JD" on a door in a cozy little apartment building. The beautiful neighbor waited at the door, her face awash with nervousness and anticipation. The wait at the door seemed agonizingly long, even though it was only 30 seconds. As the gentleman opened the apartment door, the wonderful aroma of an unfamiliar, exotic dinner wafted into the hall, accompanied by the rich aroma of TC.

"Won't you come in?" he beckoned.

She smiled and stepped inside, looking almost at once to the dinner table, tastefully decorated with two coffee mugs and a single candle.

"I hope you didn't just invite me over for a cup of coffee," she hinted.

"Of course not," he assured her. "I've cooked dinner for us."

"Oh Jeffrey, you romantic devil!" she beamed.

She found herself admiring his rear as he walked to the kitchen to get the main course.

"What am I having?" she asked, wishing that the answer were something other than dinner.

"Something you have probably never had before in your life," he said with a knowing smile.

The gentleman stepped from the kitchen carrying a large covered serving dish. He placed it on the table, in between the two coffee mugs filled with hot, steaming, full-bodied TC.

"Close your eyes" he said, grabbing hold of the serving dish cover.

She closed her eyes and he lifted away the cover. The wonderful, warm aroma of an unfamiliar meat drifted into her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, now able to discern the presence of ginger, thyme, and a hint of basil. "You can open your eyes now" he chuckled.

She opened her eyes and gazed on her dinner, then fainted with surprise as she saw a delicately roasted human arm, still clutching its jar of TC.

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Mark Wutka
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