Just a Little Sheepish

As I savored the last of a fancy grilled cheese sandwich (gruyère with bacon and watercress) at the new French restaurant called ‘Bistro’, I decided that it was best to use the bathroom before embarking on the agonizing trip back to work through the heavy Oakland traffic.

“Oooh I want to see how they made that picture!” Emily excitedly gestured to a large ornate piece of artwork in shades of robin’s egg blue and coral pink she had been eyeing across from our table. “You can go ahead- I’ll be right there.” She assured me and pointed to the painting when she saw that I was getting up to use the restroom.

I got up and pulled my big tote bag from under the café table up onto my chair and carefully extracted my purse to take with me to the bathroom so that my delicate little stuffed sheep who kept my road rage at bay was still hidden under a light scarf.

The waitress came back to clear the dishes from the table and then stopped abruptly, gasping audibly. Emily turned around just in time to see our server drop a fork from Emily’s plate and heard her apologizing profusely to herself. She furrowed her brow in concern but decided it was harmless. After watching her walk away from the table, Emily turned back around to keep studying the intricate pattern of acrylic paint in the artwork.

I returned from the restroom shortly after and noticed a little cream-colored face with an angelic smile peeking out of my bag. Looking around confused for a moment, I tucked it back under the scarf and called to Emily, “Have you been over there the whole time?”

“Yeah! This is so cool- the color combo is just amazing! I wanna make something just like it!” Then she saw my confusion, “Is something wrong? You know, the waitress came by and was acting so weird!”

“Was she messing with my bag?!”

“I don’t think so! She was just clearing the table and then she dropped silverware and was like, apologizing to herself or something.” Emily ended her sentence in a whisper as she saw the server was making her way over to our table again. “I gotta hit the bathroom too-“ she took off quickly before the waitress arrived.

The waitress reached the table, short of breath, with a small cardboard container overflowing with microgreens. “We didn’t forget about your friend!”

“But she got her salad alrea-“

“Compliments of the chef! A selection of miniature red and white organic clover handpicked from the chef’s personal garden.” The waitress, who seemed very nervous now, had cut me off and blurted what seemed to be a hastily memorized spiel. She did a deep bow and stepped away reverently, nodding and smiling at my bag, which was back under the table.

I looked around the small, empty dining room, now thoroughly perplexed.

“Did you get something to go?” Emily asked about the small container of greens as she returned to the table.

“No, it was the weirdest thing-“

“Can I get you guys anything else?” the waitress appeared quickly and interrupted again, seeming more nervous than ever.

“Could we just get the check?” Emily asked politely and turned to me, “We should get going soon before traffic gets any wor-.”

“Oh, it’s been taken care of!” Our server announced loudly, backing up to look at my tote bag once again.

“By who??” Emily asked looking around quizzically to see if there were any leering gentlemen in the restaurant, waiting to capitalize on their “generosity”.

“Oh,” our server blushed, “We just appreciate everything your friend has done for us and the community…” she stammered and looked down, overcome with emotion. “This is a very small token of our appreciation.” Her voice cracked and she wiped her damp eyes with a small handkerchief and hurried away when she saw that she had gotten a new table.

An hour later:

BaaBaa Bladerunner O’Reilly carefully poked his head out of his travel bag as soon as he didn’t hear voices in the office anymore. His glassy, unblinking eyes fixed upon the loveliest ewe he had ever seen. Her wispy strands of wool brushed out to silky perfection; a gossamer halo of cream and apricot dazzled him like nothing he had ever seen. She leaned against the wall casually as she stood on the desk across from him, pretending she didn’t see him staring. He had to think of something to say, obviously she had to know who he was and he just had to have her.

‘(Ba)Ahem…Which episode of ‘Baa Says’ is your favorite?’ He was satisfied with his opening line, certain that she was bursting to praise him on his highly successful radio show but was too shy. She didn’t even move to look at him as he spoke to her, only reinforcing his belief that she was a starstruck fan. ‘It’s ok, little ewe.’ he whispered, so moved by his effect on her. ‘What’s your name?’ still only silence from the softest ewe he could imagine. After a couple seconds Triple B jumped in to show off his talent for guessing names, ‘Let me guess, Marla…..Romney!’ and then winked triumphantly.

He knew he was right when she finally slipped a little along the wall where she had been so elegantly perched. She was quite tall and clattered noisily to the desk in a great swoon over Baa’s demonstration of his psychic ability. At the exact same moment one of the sheep’s most treasured aides rushed into the office after knocking into the door clumsily with a large box. Seeing a little white face peeking out of the top of her bag, the girl smiled and heaved the box onto the counter.

“What are YOU doing out?” she queried and looked around, as if there was someone else in the office that she hadn’t seen.

“Oops!!” the girl exclaimed when she looked over and saw that she had almost pushed the brand new lambswool duster into the trash can. BaaBaa knew this meant the girl realized she positively ruined his first date with his future wife. He awaited her apology while she plucked his ewe’s slender neck from the edge of the counter and effortlessly righted her to exactly where she had been standing before she fainted. The girl smoothed the tawny cotton candy wool so that the golden tips were blended in to the rest of her form instead of sticking out at odd angles.

‘Oh, Marla- that is just spectacular!’ misty eyed, Triple B couldn’t help but be enchanted with her new look.

#flashfiction ?

(I haven’t taken a writing class in 20 years and I know my punctuation and grammar need work- comments/suggestions welcome!)