“Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say ‘infinitely’ when you mean ‘very’; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.”
- C.S. Lewis
“You’re not going to get any sun in there,” Mattie said to Drusilla who was peeking out though the frosted glass of the limo at the plump, young woman with a strong body. Wearing an old cotton shirt and large sweaty jeans, Mattie stood at the edge of the Murmuring Forest. She was looking through the trees at a small clearing near a wooden well overlooking the city.
Having already built a fire near their picnic blanket that was covered with different foods, the women were next to a nearby nature preserve that was separated from the park by a steel fence that kept the packs of wild dogs away from the campers.
“Darling, this place is not my neck of the wood,” Drusilla moaned as she opened the car door and stepped out into the grass with her prosthetic legs. The ancient woman wore a veil for bugs and an expensive traveling coat that covered most of her plastic body.
“Poo poo,” Mattie said as she helped Drusilla down the slope towards the picnic she had set up. “I went with you at your art thing. Its time you met my world.”
“Well, this setting is very bucolic,” Drusilla said as she sat on the blanket next to the campfire. “A few candles will disillusion the bugs, dear. However, I am worried about the climate. There will be a layer of frost over everything by morning, despite the temperature, darling.”
“You are really a man on the moon out here,” Mattie said, setting a fire with heavy flints. “Didn’t you survive wars? To be honest, I thought you would have spent more of your life in nature given the tendency of civilizations to self-destruct after so long.”
“I and nature have an estranged relationship, dear,” Drusilla said as she began to serve their many different dishes. “There is a reason why I enjoy civilization… pardon me; did you say I am a man in the moon?”
“Only because you said the word ‘bucolic’” Mattie joked, joining Drusilla on their picnic blanket. “I have no idea what that word means, but before a fight starts… I want to offer a peace treaty. Let’s keep it simple. I stop trying to sound American and you try to stop sounding pretentious.”
“Only if I can still call you, darling,” said Drusilla as she lit a few candles with her lighter.
“Can I call you Dru?” Mattie asked, pouring Drusilla her drink.
“Consider peace achieved,” Drusilla said, raising her cup. Mattie tapped the rim of her cup against Drusilla’s and they drank to their arrangement. Drusilla reached out and pulled Mattie close to her as they watched the clouds above them.
Disclaimer: This is an original story that is not based on any real people or events. It is a work of fiction that is purely for your entertainment.