Guy--Part Twenty-Seven

Splog # 112

Twenty-Seven  

   Almost before these words were out of his mouth, Guy was responding in a rush.

   "Hello? Hello? Is that you? No. No. That's ok.That's fine. I was just..." Here he ran completely out of breath and took in a huge gulp as quickly as he could. "You're here. I - I'm sorry I shut you up but I just..." And then a laugh of relief burst out of him, and one solitary tear squeezed from the corner of an eye. He merely floated and smiled.

   "Excuse me, but are you sure that all is as it should be? You seem rather perturbed."

   Each time one of them concluded speaking, there was a short pause as the other waited in an attemt not to interrupt.

   "I'm fine," Guy said simply. "And I hope I wasn't too rude when I held my lips closed and I also hope I didn't hurt your feelings. I..."

   Guy was unsure how to continue and the voice spoke into the pause.

   "Tut. Tut. No need for apologies or recriminations on either side. It seems I waxed overenthusiastic in my - my - well, in my enthusiasm and you may have overreacted a touch in your - your - well, in your reaction. Water under the bridge. Or under your feet. Ha. Ha. No need for further referral to occurrances of the past. They are gone and evaporated. I'm still I and you're still you and never the twain shall meet....Well, but no. Not a fit sentiment, especially as the twain have met rather spectacularly. No. I'm still I and you're still you. And by pulling together we'll get through. Not bad. Not bad. How about...You're still you and I'm still I. And whatever happens we'll get by. What do you think, eh?"

   Guy waited a moment before he asked, "Are you a poet, sir?"

   "What? A poet? No, no. Merely a bit of doggerel. Well, I do like to while away an idle hour in composition of...well, in versification, I guess you might say. But come. Come. We have things to do and people to see. We have...Well, I guess we've been down that road before. First things first. It occurrs to me that we haven't yet been properly introduced. You, I have excellent reason to infer, go by the appellation of Guy. Would my inference happen to have led me to the correct conclusion? " Without waiting for a reply the voice continued. "My own christening was accomplished to the tune of Borias Ufondo Grudastin Spatula." This was pronounced in rather a stately manner but then the voice dropped into a much more conversational, even an unconcerned, tone. "I say, do you find the moniker euphonious?"

   The completely unexpected revelation of the voice's unlikely and somewhat comical name had nearly startled Guy into a burst of laughter. But, as his voice and breath were both under employment by another agency at the moment of unintentional hilarity, Guy was saved from what he supposed would have been an unfortunate reaction. As it was, he needed a moment to formulate a response to the question at hand.