“What are you doing?” Bob lunged at the stove and turned the burner all the way down, but it was too late. Smoke billowed from beneath the lid on the pan.
Clay flung the window open and hung his head out, coughing.
Bob had one hand over his nose and mouth and was using an oven mitt to fan the smoke away from his face. Once he could see, he tugged the lid off the pan and stared at the charred remains of dinner. He glared over his shoulder at Clay, who was a distinct shade of green, and then he sighed, tossed the pan into the sink.
“Well, that was a bust.”
Clay opened a bottle of water and took a long pull. “I’m really, really sorry. I just thought that if I turned it up, it would cook faster.”
Bob scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed again. “I told you it’d be another ten minutes. Patience is a virtue, idiot.”
“I was hungry,” Clay said. “Ocras a bheith ar dhuine.”
Bob glanced at his watch, then out at the skyline. The sun was low on the horizon. “We won’t make it to the supermarket in time, and that was the last of the meat.”
Clay bit his lip, peered out the window. “If we hoofed it really hard...?”
Bob shook his head.
“Then...we’re gonna have to go into the market?”
Bob nodded. He reached for his wallet and the knife he always carried. Clay blamed that knife on Carolyn.
“What do you think we can get?” Clay asked.
“I pretty much only remember how to order that sticky rice. With the honey and condensed milk.” Bob gestured, and Clay stepped out of the apartment first.
‘Apartment’ was a generous word, given that there was one bed right next to the stove and only a few strategically hung sheets separated the bathroom from the rest of the world.
The old ladies in the village had a sixth sense about when the two of them were out and about - they’d initially been mystified by Bob’s bleached-blond hair - and they were huddled at the bottom of the stairs.
“Same same!” they crowed.
Clay bowed politely to fend them off. “Sa-wat-dee-kraup.”
Bob bowed as well, then tugged firmly on Clay’s elbow. Clay hated when Bob got all assertive like that - he was the younger one.
“C’mon,” Bob said. “Sticky rice it is.”
(407 words; I was mystified by the blond phase, too, but not in a good way)
2 comments:
I am enjoying the scenes where they are in Thailand. I find it interesting to see the interactions of the twins without the others.
I can so see Clay being impatient to eat and end up burning the food. I admit that I have done this in the past.
The blond hair, really, what was he thinking? Oh well.
Bob does come alive a lot more when it's just the two of them. Then again, in most bands, let's face it, the drummer doesn't even get to talk at all.
As for the blond hair...I think he was thinking, "I'm tired of people getting us mixed up."
Let's face it, except in really random moments, they really don't look the same, but people mix them up all the time.
Maybe it's different in person.
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