Freddy and Mo had met at a backyard barbeque on Douglass Street. He admired her sleek coloring a la distance. She thought his aerial acrobatics were quite impressive. However, he didn’t want to get too close. What if she was with someone else?
He waited for his opportunity and as the light was falling, he made his way over to her as she hovered by the picnic table. She had nice eyes. She seemed shy. That was good; he was a loner himself. He pictured them, two quiet loaners, hanging out in the shadows.
They chatted for a minute, then went their separate ways.
“Maybe I’ll see you at another barbeque,” he said as he flew off.
Later that summer Freddy was preening in the sun when he heard a familiar rustle. There, in the shadow of a flower pot, was his new friend.
“Oh, hello!” he said.
Ah, it’s you!” she squeaked.
“At your service, ma’am,” he said, as he bowed.
They caught up on the neighborhood gossip and agreed to meet again soon.
Freddy and Mo continued to see each other at various backyard parties in the neighborhood. One late summer afternoon, they found themselves talking through a garden fence. The weather was cooling, and the crisp fall air promised a long dark winter. Plans needed to be made. It was time to head inside.
Freddy was looking for a roommate. Mo needed a change. They agreed to find new digs together.
A great idea, not that easily executed.
“This one’s too clean,” he said, as they saw a Danish modern design, that was way too sleek. “And they’re vegetarians. That won’t do.”
“This one’s too cluttered,” she said, as they made their way through an old-school rent control. “Oh, no, no, no,” she added. “I draw the line at roaches.”
“Oo…this one!” Freddy said, as they snuck into an open house. “We could make this work.”
“No, we can’t,” Mo said, dejectedly. “They allow cats.”
“This is hard,” he said.
“I think we have to move on,” she said.
Mo had found the place on Douglass Street and spent the first few days checking out the interiors. It had good bones, she thought. The walls were not too solid. She could see herself settling in.
“Luxe,” he said.
“Bonus!” she said.
“We’ve arrived!” they cheered.
Freddy met her there on Thanksgiving. The door opened and he was home. This is it! he thought. Super warm. Very cozy.
There was a huge feast, with lots of food, and much to drink. Mo dragged a piece of bruschetta to Freddy, as he flitted over the banquet table.
There was, however, one problem. When the guests left, the place got cleaned up. Nothing remained. Nothing on the floor, or counters, everything put away in the highly inaccessible refrigerator.
“Well, this won’t do!” Freddy said.
“Absolutely not!” Mo chimed in.
They began hovering. They stalked the corners, and eyed the room, wondering what their next plan would be.
“We need water,” Freddy said.
“Food would be nice,” Mo said.
“Time for a new plan?” Freddy droned, as he nervously flitted about.
“Oh my…” Mo said, as she pondered a plan.
As luck would have it, hasty breakfast preparations were made the next day, with dishes left in the sink, and crumbs scattered on the counter.
“Our ship has sailed in!” Freddy buzzed.
“This will do nicely,” Mo added.
That night, Mo struck dessert gold. The candy dish had been left unattended and in the bottom, she discovered a bunch of sticky Mary Janes.
“Yum!” he cried.
“Sweet!” she said.
“Haste makes waste and a clean house doth not the creatures feed,” Freddy sang.
“Happy Holidays, my dear!” Mo squealed. “Who knew salvation could be found at the bottom of a crystal candy dish?”