My sweetheart asked me if I’d like something to drink the other night. “I have red wine? Hard cider?”
“Oh! I should say the wine, but…the cider, please?”
He left the room, returning very shortly later with two rounded glasses half-filled with a lovely organic cider that was – unfortunately – just a bit too bubbly.
Now, there is this charming thing my body does with such substances. I do not belch for lo! that would be unladylike. Instead, gurgles will erupt uncontrollably from my esophagus, using my chest cavity like an echo chamber. In the past, people have told me that it’s a noise you only hear if you’re close enough to me.
In the present, people may have heard my throat-gurgles in Ohio.
“Um. Hi. Excuse me. That was….proof I should wear turtlenecks.”
He graciously brushed off my apology. “Not a big deal.”
“It shouldn’t happen a-GURRRRGLE!!!”
He leaned back, laughing. “Well, at least you’re not belching in my face.”
“Of course not. I’m much too suave.”
“Allow me to show you.” I snuggled closer to him and, with my best ‘hey baby’ look, gently pressed my lips to his neck, and…
“So. Um. Maybe the wine next time.”
“OH SHUT UP! I’m gonna go put on ten layers of clothes. And insert a mute.”
“Like a trumpet mute?”
“You got *chooga-gurgle* it. DAMMIT.”
“Yup. You’re suave.”
“Hi, Trumpet Supply Store! Do you maybe make these trachea sized…?”