Two Melons and a Penguin
It was just another Monday, much like any other, and, as was their custom on a Monday, they were at the supermarket. In fact, they were in the produce aisle. “Produce aisle” is such an Americanism, isn’t it? What would we call it? The fruit and veg aisle? Except it’s not an aisle at all, is it? It’s more of a section. A little area dedicated to boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables. Although “fresh” sometimes to be a little bit of stretch, doesn’t it?
She picked up a melon, gave it a little squeeze, tapped it once, turned to him and said, “Do you know how to tell if a melon is ripe?”
He looked at her, with her long, blonde hair and big, brown eyes. She always seemed to shine to him, and she knew everything. He couldn’t wait for her to impart this new bit of “woman wisdom” to him.
“No, I have no idea, I’ve always wondered about that…” he mused.
“I have no idea either,” she laughed, “but I always give them a squeeze and a tap and then just buy one. I have no idea what I’m squeezing and tapping for.”
They laughed together and moved on to the fish section, where a rather large penguin stood waiting for them.
“Could I interest you in some fish?” asked the penguin.
“Do you have any haddock?” he asked the penguin.
“I’m afraid we’re fresh out of haddock, sir,” the penguin replied.
“Oh, wait, we’re not going there again,” he frowned.
“No, you’re right,” said the penguin, “that would probably be unwise.”
“Oh, you realise what this is, don’t you?” she interjected, with a smile.
“A penguin?” he replied.
“Not the penguin,” she laughed. “This. All of this. It’s a dream.”
“Oh, of course, but…” his eyes narrowed, “whose dream is it? Mine or yours?”
“Oh, well, it can’t be mine,” she replied, “because I’m always naked in my dreams.”
“That’s no way to tell,” he frowned, “because you’re always naked in my dreams too.”
She laughed, and he went a little red.
“Perhaps it’s the penguin’s dream?” she giggled.
“Yes, yes, perhaps it’s my dream,” the penguin suggested. “Although neither of you seem to be fishy and good to eat, and that’s generally the theme of all my dreams.”
“I think we may have lost the plot a little here…” she suggested.
“Plot? This is a dream sequence! We don’t need any plot!” he laughed.
“How convenient.” She rolled her eyes at him.
“I thought so,” he said as he flashed her a cheeky grin. Dream or no dream, she always made him laugh.
“So, would you like to feel my melons?” she smiled.
“Ah, so it is my dream after all…”