A Peculiar Mess

“You, my dear, are exactly like a puddle.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A puddle! You know, those annoying puddles that you get when you knock over something hard to clean up…like milk. Yes your are just like a puddle of milk…Or maybe fish sauce?”

“I thank you for enlightening me but I still fail to understand your metaphor my dear. Perhaps I am too shallow to comprehend?”

“Exactly! You have hit it on the head. I have spent my life trying desperately to find some depth in you but up until this moment I never realised the truth.”

“And that is?”

“You just give the impression of depth. Like a great puddle of milk. You have spread yourself out like a lake, creeping over knowledge, invading the cracks and no-one can tell how deep the spill is. There always seems to be so much more milk when you upset a glass. So there you are, a giant white lake of endless depths. Only you are actually just a thinly spread puddle.”

“Well I am sorry to disappoint you. I never attempted to appear deep.”

“I thought I had found myself a true Renaissance man.”

“But instead you found a puddle of fish sauce?”

“No, not fish sauce. I dropped a bottle of it once on the floor. I will never forget the smell. You don’t smell.”

“Well thank God for that at least. Though I am wondering what it was that helped you to identify my disappointingly shallow nature?”

“It was not one thing precisely. I just found that when I scratched the surface there was nothing there.”

“Can I just ask if it is actually possible to scratch the surface of a puddle.”

“So like you to try and evade the topic.”

“It is just that I simply cannot bear mixed metaphors.”

“Now you are getting nasty.”

“You were not called a puddle.”

“Well you are. Quite frankly I don’t think I can take it any longer. I need someone who is more than a veneer.”

“A new metaphor then I see. Well at least you can scratch the surface of a veneer.”

“Yes, and then what do you find?”

“Wood presumably”

“The cheap wood underneath.”

“Well wood is more enduring than a puddle. I seem to be raising in your estimation. If I wait long enough I may well turn to stone.”

“Typical you. Froth and bubble and nothing underneath.”

“I have things underneath.”

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“You made the accusation and I responded.”

“All I said was you are a puddle and the next thing I know I am subjected to filthy innuendo and insults. I am going home to mother.”

Door slams

“Well that was interesting. I wonder who on earth she was?”

fin

In response to Ronovan Writes Friday Fiction – a spill occurs.

https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com/2016/02/26/friday-fiction-with-ronovan-writes-prompt-challenge-15-a-spill-occurs/