Muse In A Can
Or something like that...
Part: One | Two | Three | Four
It would have been interesting to see the look on my face the day he finally saw her. Now, I want you to take three guesses as to where he finally found this woman in a white dress with a frilly umbrella. Not the park, not the coffee house.
The cat food factory.
I saw her before he did actually, this woman standing at the end of the machine he’s in charge of, posing exactly like the painting in his head. Only in front of tuna squishing out into can after can.
He was so distracted by her after I pointed her out, that thirty cans were packaged without the “nutrient water” because he was forgetting to push the button. Hopefully nobody ever noticed.
And would you believe it, after all that daydreaming and poetry he was afraid to talk to her! Okay, that’s completely believable, I know. But still, it’s a woman with a dang parasol in a cat food factory. Signs from God are rarely that obvious. The camera flash finally snapped him out of his stupor, so that he could notice the photographer attempting to stand on the label machine to get the perfect picture. The guy’s muse was sitting behind him on top of the label machine smoking a cigarette and every once in a while he’d wave his hand to one side or the other and the photographer would reposition his frame.
Man, to have that kind of control…I’m trying not to be jealous because that’s really unbecoming. I had to focus on getting Paul to talk to this girl, so I quickly went over to the photographer, winked at his muse, and knocked his camera out of his hands.
I hope I didn’t break it…but it’s all for the name of love! The girl dropped her parasol and turned, and there was Paul standing right behind her. Good for him, I’m glad he has a little gumption, now let’s hope the poet in him manages to say something appropriate.
“You’re really pretty.”
I’ll be making out my resume if you need me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you know how many people he had to get approval from for this shoot?” This man’s muse was a leather-wearing elf, kinda handsome actually.
“See that guy over there? The one in the cat food covered smock making a fool of himself?”
“What about him?”
“My assignment.”
“What’s that got to do with Kurt over there? He might have lost his entire roll of film, and he doesn’t have a spare camera you know.” The muse blew smoke directly into my face and then leaned back and crossed his arms.
“It seems to be working just fine.” I wasn’t lying, it was, and he was just loading a new roll of film. “And I needed the break.”
“For what?”
“Love.”
I’ll give him credit: it took him a full two seconds before he burst out laughing. I just stood and patiently waited for him to finish, at least until I got sick of hearing it and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention again.
“He’s trying to get a date. With her.”
“Are you cupid?” He looked me over and quirked an eyebrow.
“I am today.” I crossed my arms and tried to look confident. Meanwhile Paul was making a complete idiot of himself trying to ask the girl to go to the coffeehouse with him after work. “Listen, Paul can’t write a line of good poetry without inspiration, and she’s it.”
“I thought you were a muse. We are inspiration.”
Okay, ouch.
“You’ve never worked with Paul.” Suddenly I got the amusing mental image of this leather wearing, chain-smoking muse sitting on Paul’s shoulder in high school. It was hard not to laugh directly in his face, so I turned my head.
“You do realize you can get reported for interfering like you just did?”
“You’re going to tattle on me?” Then I pictured the Council, sitting on their little fancy chairs waiting for me to screw up again. “Go ahead, they’ll get a kick out of it, and tell ‘em I said hi.”
Paul managed to get a date while I was arguing, even without my help. By the time they were done he actually managed to kiss her hand and tell her that her hair shone in the reflected light of the fluorescent bulbs. Only he said it much better than I could.
It’ll be interesting if they ever have children, talking about how they met.
“Well dear, I was wearing a hairnet and your mother was carrying a parasol…”
Part: One | Two | Three | Four
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