Grabbing a file off the counter that I threw up there for him, Floyd waved and ambled back out the door as I answered the phone again.
“Good morning, Floyd Grim’s office, may I help you?” I said into the phone.
“Ewwa!” someone yelled into my ear. Huh?
“Ewwa, ith Awwie.”
“Allie?” I asked.
“Yeth. Awwie. I goth a pwobwem,” Allie whined into the phone.
Okay. “Allie, what’s going on? And why are you talking like that?” I asked.
“I nee’ yew to mee’ me on yew wunth bweak ath my houth. Pweath,” Allie begged.
This should be interesting. After promising I would be at her house at noon, I hung up the phone with Allie and got to work. The morning flew by in between phone calls and clients, and in no time I had to meet Allie. I grabbed my keys and locked up the office for lunch, heading out to my car.
I pulled up at Allie’s house in my cute, little yellow VW Bug and she came running down her front steps holding a paper towel up to her face. Now I was worried.
She got in the car and told me, “Thathoo thop, pweath. I wipp’th my thung.”
I stared at her in shock until she grunted and smacked at my thigh to get me going. Putting the car in drive, I headed downtown to the tattoo shop. (I’m assuming that I heard her correctly. Its kind of hard to understand someone when they’re holding their tongue with a paper towel.)
After about ten minutes, we pulled up at Skin Deep, the tattoo shop that I didn’t think I would be frequenting again any time soon after Friday night. Especially for the fact that I embarrassed myself beyond belief in there.
Allie and I got out of the car and walked into the shop. I didn’t see anyone at the counter right away, but after a minute, Brandon came around the corner looking even better than before (Either that or my eyes were so starved for eye candy they enhanced his deliciousness).
His face broke into a grin as he shouted, “Hey! It’s Crash and Allison! What’s up, ladies?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but return his grin as I pointed at Allie and said, “Well, Allie has done something to “wip” her “thung”, which I am assuming translates to mean she ripped her tongue. How? Not sure. But I am dying to find out!” I turned to grin at Allie, who looked so pathetic that I busted out laughing.
Allie shot me a dirty look and then turned to Brandon with the most pathetic face (even more pathetic than she looked ten seconds ago, which I didn’t think was possible) I’ve ever seen on a person. Brandon came around the counter and gently pulled Allie’s fingers and the paper towel away from her mouth.
“Okay, you should be able to talk a little bit better without your fingers and everything in your mouth. So what did you do?,” Brandon asked Allie.
“I was eating a fudge bar and when I licked it, well, you know…when you eat a popsicle and you put it in your mouth and then kinda suck and pull it back out? Know what I mean?” Allie trailed off, waiting for someone to acknowledge that we knew what she was talking about.
I wasn’t going there. And if Brandon’s eyes got any bigger, they were going to pop out of his head. I didn’t think his lips could stretch any further either, judging by the huge grin he had plastered on his face.
Allie continued earnestly, “ Well, I was eating the fudge bar and when I pulled it out, the ball to my tongue ring kinda dug into it and I felt this excruciating sharp pain in my tongue. Then I tasted the blood, which, hello, does not go with chocolate. Guess I could never be a vampire, huh? Anyway, I looked in the mirror and ‘lo and behold, I ripped my tongue!” The last part ended on a wail.