Huddle

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I see Babs climbing the bleachers, and I’m excited to see a familiar face in this lonely place.

She hands me a cup of hot chocolate, and I nearly cut myself on her sweater reaching for it; indeed, at eight degrees, her nipples were deadly and fascinating weapons. Cuddling close to me, she nuzzles them heavily in my arm, and I can smell the Safari wafting through the air.

We stare in silence and stark solitude at the flat, square place guys play sports on.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” she whispers.

“That maybe I should put golf on my blog after all?”

“No,” she says, inching closer.

Suddenly, she screams “Zombie!” and Mr. Insanity lurches from out of the dugout.

Now, I tried to throw her out of the way so I could escape without trampling her, but my foot got caught in the seat; I toppled to the ground, bolts of pain shooting through my ankle.

“Don’t you even think about leaving me behind!” I scream at Babs, weeping openly. “I’ll throw my hot chocolate at you!”

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