The Continuing Adventures of Myrtle B. Jones
Tuesday, Apr. 27, 2010 - 21:39

"I've got my heart set on the town journalist, Taff," Myrtle said. She giggled.

Half of Taffy's mouth lifted into a derisive sneer. "A journalist? Don't you think that'll be the most boring thing ever?"

"No!" Myrtle said. "Taff, think about it. The town journalist. He's got his finger on the pulse."

"The pulse, his finger on the pulse," Taffy said. "You disgust me, Myrtle B. You know how I feel about metaphor."

"You can't escape metaphoric use of language," Myrtle said. "It permeates. Anyway, you know how I'm a sucker for brown eyes."

"Hmm," Taffy said. "Tell me more."

"He's got a dog named Sir Charles."

"That sounds okay. Anything else?"

"And he likes me."

"Well, just wait until he gets to know you, that'll change soon enough."

Myrtle looked at the ground and sighed. "I know."