7/19/11

Butt Stuck Penny
By Acquanetta M. Sproule


Roses.

Three dozen.

Actually, three dozen and one, long stemmed peach colored roses.

Penny’s favorite.

Professor Isaac Figg hoped that the blossoms’ delicate fragrances blending with the light floral scent of the six strategically placed floating candles would quickly mask the odors of overworked electrical insulation and of musty, dusty basement in the laboratory he shared with Dr. Penelope Pendleton. The lab’s odors seemed determined to linger in spite of the formerly-content-at-being-a-middle-aged-bachelor's best efforts to eliminate them.

He wanted the atmosphere to be perfect. Or, at least as close to perfect as could be expected in the lower levels of the Science and Engineering Building, sealed tight against another patented Michigan ice storm.

Penny hated ice storms. So, Figg had nearly killed himself adventuring out in search of just the right thing to brighten her Step-Through.

During Figg’s last shopping stop, the surprised florist had commented that the single peach colored rose must be for someone very special, for Figg to brave this kind of deep freeze.

At first, Figg scoffed away such nonsense, informing the clerk that this was just a little something to cheer away the winter blahs from a long-time and well-respected colleague.

The clerk had smiled condescendingly. Since things, he’d explained, were likely to be slow today anyway, he offered to let such a kind hearted gentleman as Figg obviously was to get as many roses as he wanted at half price.

Figg, warmly astonished by the clerk’s generous offer, agreed and requested the three dozen in addition to the one. Choosing to ignore the clerk’s pocketing of the money, Prof. Figg bundled up these final items and slid to his Lexus. By the time he’d safely navigated back to the lab, Figg admitted that he had to agree with that enterprising young fellow.

Only a fool would put himself through the changes he’d just had.

A fool...or a fool In Love.

Well, Figg decided, no need to put matters off.

If he was in love with the good Professor Pendleton, might as well ‘fess up and get on with things.

Problem was, how to get her to take him seriously; especially, when Figg, himself, had found the realization to be quite astounding.

The flowers, candles, gourmet lunch for two, soft mellow jazz and lace linen table cloth would probably surprise Penny, probably start her to seeing him in a different light — but, being a dedicated Man of Science, Figg preferred to have all the possibilities considered and covered.

How best to assure his caramel-Amazon companion’s undivided attention, while minimizing the very probable danger to him from her mercenary temperament and skills?

How best to assure, as much as statistically possible, a favorable outcome?

A nice problem, indeed.

As the moments ticked down, the answer trickled up.

Such a simple solution! Easily executed!

As soon as she Stepped-Through the shimmering transfer field returning from this latest scavenger expedition, he would cycle the field closed just enough to hold her securely halfway between this place and that, just long enough to express his affection and, safely, await her response.

Congratulating himself for his solution, Figg speculated as to what her possible reactions might be...

* * *

Watching his gauges, Figg quickly - but gently - cycled closed the undulating silver field. Penelope, rainbows flaring where she pressed through the field, was caught mid-stride.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as she struggled to free herself.

"I needed for you to listen and to take what I had to say seriously."

Dangerous brown eyes searched, measured pleading ice-blue ones.

"O.K.," she drawled, "I’m listening...seriously."

Figg drew a quick breath, released it — plunged.

"I’m in love with you."

Penny’s jaw dropped. He cycled open the field, shutting it down as she stumbled clear.

Figg waited, trying not to fidget.

"No man, in my entire life, has ever told me that before! Ever!" She knelt before him, gazing up as she kissed his hands. Figg felt his stomach roiling and struggled to extract himself before it erupted.

He didn’t make it.

"Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll clean that up for you."

She led him to the table, plunked him down before he fell. The stink of the roses aggravated his nausea, but he managed to keep his traitorous belly under control this time. Buried beneath Penny’s ministrations, he contemplated which of his messes would be more easily cleaned up.

* * *

No! No!! NO!!! Figg chided himself, gulping several quick, deep breaths in an effort to calm his jingle-jangling nerves. To reduce such a gloriously powerful woman down to geisha status would be completely, totally, absolutely unacceptable! Besides, someday he might decide to investigate other romantic avenues while maintaining his and Penny’s very lucrative entrepreneurial alliance. And, he wasn’t fool enough to believe that he, or any man for that matter, could long survive the attentions of a discarded Dr. Pendleton. As unlikely as it seemed that someone like Penny would melt adoringly into a disgusting puddle of cloying lovesick ooze and relentlessly suck him down into a miasma of emotional muck...it was always better to be prepared for any and all possibilities.

At the first sign of something like this happening, Figg promised himself, he would randomize the transfer field’s controls, leap through and run!

Figg laughed aloud at himself, for even entertaining such an unPenny-like scenario. Penny was as likely to behave that way as he was to wake up forty pounds lighter and sporting a full head of hair!

No, Penny wouldn’t swoon, wouldn’t faint, wouldn’t melt.

That just wasn’t her style ...

* *

Watching his gauges, Figg quickly — but gently — cycled closed the field, catching Penny in mid stride.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, trying to wrench herself free.

Figg’s mouth went dry, all the fluid seemingly racing to his armpits and palms.

Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all ...

"I just wanted to make sure you’d listen, and take me seriously," Figg stammered.

"All right, Figgy," she said, obviously humoring him. Her eyes narrowed, fists clenched and, slowly, unclenched: "I’m listening. What is it you wanted to tell me?"

"I think that I’m in love with you."

She didn’t laugh, didn’t smile, but he saw the determination settle in.

She knew he knew that if he freed her, now, that she’d do her best to catch and kill him where ever he fled.

He knew that she knew that he wasn’t cruel enough to leave her trapped there.

One other option occurred to both, simultaneously.

They’d been together a very long time.

Now, she did smile — as though perversely pleased to realize that some of her baser traits had finally rubbed off on her sophisticated old friend.

Figg’s hands hovered over the controls.

To open the field...or snap it completely shut?

Their gazes met, held.

He dropped his, first.

Heartsick, but resigned, Figg adjusted the field’s controls...closed.

* *

Figg rubbed away the sweat streaming into his eyes.

Best not to think about it too much ...

But...Penny had occasionally told tales of some of the strange creatures she’d encountered during her Step-Throughs. Knowing her to be an accomplished prankster, he generally took Penny’s tales with an entire mine load of salt.

Still, what if...what if...?

*

Watching his gages, Figg quickly — but gently — cycled closed the field, catching her in mid stride.

Instead of the annoyance he’d expected, her eyes went wide with pleading and...terror?

Perplexed, Figg debated the wisdom of his plan.

Penny shrieked! She writhed in agony as her eyes rolled up and blood gushed from both mouth and nose!

Figg snapped open the transfer field!

Something rammed Penny from behind, sprawling her body across the floor!

He jumped back, horrified, as a red and silver-striped feline leapt out through the field and pounced protectively over its prize!

Figg hefted an oscilloscope, the first loose thing he laid hands on and, nearly matching Penny’s scream, lunged at the feeding Beast!

It flicked a clawed paw, tossing Figg’s ripped and tattered body across the room, bowling over the lace-covered table!

Figg raised one bloody hand in trembling supplication to the Beast feasting on Penny’s steaming innards!

Others sniffed him disdainfully before striding past and up the stairs, mashing long-stemmed peach-colored roses into Figg’s spreading blood puddles!

With a triumphant howl, another Beast missiled against the lab door, blasting it open!

It hooked and hauled in Dr. Wilson’s obnoxious teaching assistant!

Never did like that arrogant...

Professor Figg found his last thought highly amusing.

And, might have laughed...had his throat not right then been torn out...

*

Figg jerked at the warning chime announcing that Penny had begun re-entry. He slumped against the console until his pounding heart slowed closer to normal — and wondered at his own reactions. Being of small stature and a, generally, non-aggressively natured man, Figg had lifelong experience of what fear felt like. Question was, if this fear was for Penny or of Penny?

The transfer field’s normal standby mode appearance — much like a giant, shimmering, summer heat-curtain — changed to something like molten silver.

The places pushed by Penny stretching out into concentric blue-shifting rainbows going black where she passed through. Figg always marveled at the two rainbow-ringed black eyes proceeding Penny’s high breasts...which were coming through now!

Figg’s hands leapt to the controls, but froze.

He frowned at her unusual haste, memories of fur and teeth and pain still frighteningly fresh. Suddenly, Penny flicked her arm up! He flinched back, flinging both arms up to protect his face from the fist-sized projectile. With quick reflex, he caught the crystal.

Then, Penny’s lovely smirk.

Figg turned his attention back to the multi-faceted sphere. Once word was discreetly passed around to discerning and unspeakably wealthy potential buyers of the diamond’s existence and availability, the only Step-Throughs either he or Penny would ever have to take, again, would be for just the fun of it!

Penny?

Penny!

Her long strides had taken her completely away from the now quiescent transfer field over to the table. She laid her knapsack gently on the floor and, with an almost girlish delight, sat savoring the fragrances from the three dozen and one roses.

"What’s the occasion?" Penny asked, in her blood-boiling contralto.

Figg, still reeling from the size of this trip’s main prize, couldn’t come up with anything better than: "Because you like them."

Oh well, he consoled himself as he resumed admiring the stone, a good business partner is probably better than a romantic interest, anyhow.

"Thank you. They’re lovely."

Perplexed by her un-Penny-like purr, he glanced over to see him smiling, warmly, at him.

Being a dedicated Man of Science, Professor Isaac Figg automatically began calculating that smile’s possibilities.

Nice. Nice, indeed...



- - -
"I'd just gotten out of my morning bath and, while putting on my clothes, sat down on my bed. I felt something odd on my butt. I stood up and it was still there, so I brushed it off onto the carpet. It was a penny that had been stuck on my butt. I have a Hyper-Active imagination."