Nosy Nose

I had a good day, rare as those are.  

When I arrived at the table with my best friend, Liz, I told her the gossip.  I’d had the most unusual event happen to me the day prior.  I couldn’t wait to share. We talked small at first, growing into bigger topics.

“So you’re telling me this guy had several doubles that you like?” Liz said.  “That doesn’t sound like a guy you want to mess with, not even with your oblivious senses.”

“He’s not a spy,” I said.

“How would you know? What is he? They pretend to be so many people.  Just because

you saw some show with him on it.”   

“No, I wouldn’t get involved with a spy. They make terrible husbands anyway, always gone, in constant danger, worried late nights with a tissue box, the fear of the kids overhearing the wrong words and being shot.  I have arrived at a conundrum, however,” I said.  

“And what cockeyed dimple from a smiling fool has brought you to this ‘conundrum”’ Liz asked. She smoothed out her long blonde hair that went almost to her waist, at least a three-hundred dollar wig.  Her petite nose brought more attention to her emerald eyes and pinched pink cheeks.

“Let’s say the double asks you on a date, but you want the original, or perhaps the unoriginal man, or whoever, the love at first sight.” 

“And why would you want the original?” Liz asked. She giggled and moist drops accented her purple lips, always a character.  I guessed she found my problem comical.

“Maybe I read his book somewhere, or maybe I like what he majored in, or maybe…”

“You’re a gold-digging whore who wants to make it big, escape your class? You wouldn’t be the first on the cherry-picking ladder.”

“Hey, now, Liz, you’re with a lawyer at the moment,” I reminded her in a sour tone. 

“Ladies gotta lie,” Liz said, “Anything you say can be held against you in a court o fo law–

Women judge their gossip.”  

I rolled my eyes.

“That isn’t the reason I want the original,” I said, “Or the unoriginal or whatever.  He looks

so badass in that all-black hoodie outfit on the cover of the magazine.  I like his smile, too, like mocking me and eating me.  There’s only one major feature that changes, his nose.  Sometimes his nose is small. Sometimes, it is large.  Sometimes, it changes shape.  I’ve narrowed the two I want down to the nose.  One is a big crescent moon, and the other is small and shapely with those eyes piercing into your soul, taking it into his mind.”

“The eyes aren’t the nose or the smile,” Liz told me.

“One looks soft and gentle, and the other one looks tough and fierce,” I said.

“Who has the bigger bank account?” 

“LIZ MARLEWORTH!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she pleaded and then sighed.  

There was a moment of silence.  

“So which one did you pick?” 

“The richest one so that I can torment you!,” I roared.

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. We’d been talking too loudly.  A man came and looked at me with those black eyes.  I kept my mouth shut and tried to calm my heart down.

“Well, ladies, are you missing something?”

What was he doing here?

“I wanted to give this back to you.”  The man handed me my passport, smiled, and then took an attractive, tall redhead who was laughing, and they walked away.

Too bad I couldn’t leave the moment on a plane to "Paper Bag Town."