I handed her my manuscript. This galley cat, with a load of snark resting on the tip of her tongue ready to be unleashed, looked up at me and smiled. She held in her delicate hands the latest installment of my highly successful children's books about a talking turtle. I watched her lashes, heavy with mascara, twitch as she read the first paragraph.
Bat Segundo, our talented terrapin hero (bearing no relation or resemblance to Bat Segundo of the Bat Segundo show, of course) waddled out of his muddle puddle under the will of the wisp. Drawn to the multi-colored tent by the roar of the greasepaint, smell of the crowd. And that crowd smelled mighty darn good to him that night. He drew into his hardened shell when the herd of promenading poodles nearly stepped on him as they headed into the tent. Stretching his head under the flap of the tent, he pushed his shell under that flap and then he was in! He waited patiently. He heard his cue when one clown yelled to another clown; "your mother wears army boots!" Then our Bat Segundo walked right up to that clown and bit him in the ass. "That's for being a scary bastard!" Bat yelled in his ear. Then he turned and ran back to his muddle puddle on his tiny turtle legs, grabbing mouthfuls of cotton candy and popcorn as he went. Women screamed and children cried, but Bat Segundo knew they would be safe from the clowns for at least one more night.
She lifted her head and extended one long leg across her desk. This was the sign I'd been waiting for. As is the custom, I removed her right stiletto-heeled shoe and kissed her most royal bunion. Then I replaced her shoe with the required reverence.
As her perfect leg was withdrawn, she purred to me, "Drop and give me ten ... books darling!"
Muddle puddle! I love that!!
Score to come