The doorbell rang. I checked myself out in the full-length mirror on my way to the door. I was looking hot in a rose-pink brocade cocktail suit—a Karl Lagerfeld knockoff—that exactly matched the tendrils on my snout and set off my fur beautifully. I opened the door to…Evil Editor!
“Well, hell,” I exclaimed as he reeled backwar d with a gasp. “I wonder which of us Buffysquirrel was playing the practical joke on when she set up this blind date. Or was she just being squirrelly as usual?”
Evil Editor fell to his knees. “Please, Talpianna, don’t hurt me! Not again!”
“Oh, stop squirming around on the hall carpet and come on in. We’ll figure something out.”
I poured us each a glass of Valmolicella and sat down next to him. He quickly gulped the wine and I refilled his glass, studying him carefully. What with the way he usually ran off at the sight of me, and my poor vision, I hadn’t really gotten a good visual impression of him before.
“You clean up pretty good,” I said. “And I was looking forward to going out.”
“You look very nice,” he mumbled into his glass.
“Okay, we’ll go through with this. At least it will be a way to score off Buffy. Did you make plans?”
“No, no. Whatever you want. Wherever you want to go. Just don’t HURT me!”
“Then we’ll make it a night to remember! Cocktails at the Molein Rouge, followed by dinner. I’ll have their fabulous escargot mole poblano for a starter, then the sautéed eels, and tiramousu for dessert. Then a movie. The local art theatre is showing a revival of INVASION OF THE MOLE PEOPLE.
“Then we’ll come back here. I’m sure you’ve made love to a gal on a fur blanket. Ever done it with one WE ARING one?”
I stared down at the muttonchopped form lying unconscious on my rug.
“Evil? Was it something I said?”