This Wicked Orb
    “Ii
desu yo!”
    I
looked at her blankly. There was something about the way that she spoke when
she spoke in Japanese that made me feel weird inside. I guess that was one of
the things that made her even more attractive. Of course I have had fantasies
about her in her schoolgirl outfit, but when she spoke it made it even worse.
    “ I
went to Tokyo, Shibuya, Ginza, and Shinjuku…”
    “Oh,
yeah?”
    I
didn’t really care where she had been; I didn’t know the layout of Japan,
having never to have been there. Just the fact that I was talking to her was
enough to make my day.

A small object was just thrown through my window. Being entranced in the
conversation I never noticed the shattering of the glass and each one of the
shards crashing down onto my floor. If I wasn’t careful I could easily cut my
foot on those pieces, but that was going to be the very least of my problems.

    As she
told me about her trip my eyes focused more and more on her lips. The way they
barely moved for some words and others she made perfect little ‘o’s. Her voice
carried me away to a place that was far better than I had ever seen. Then she
would smile. She wore a slightly brighter-than-her-lips red lipstick and her
teeth were perfectly white.

This object rolled along the floor and came to rest near the foot of my
bed, an intricate tube, about two feet long, and full of potential.

    Then I
began to focus on her hair. She wore her hair to just below her jaw line and
kept it tucked behind her ear on the left side and let it fall on the right.
Not quite untainted but just the right shade of brown.

Inside the tube was, starting from the plastic cap of the
most recently closed end, a small wad of cotton for insulation. Then broken
bits of glass and shards of metal were packed rather tightly against the bottom
of a bottle of fifth of vodka wrapped in cotton, again for insulation. At the
open end of the bottle, five pieces of facial tissue were bound with a rubber
band, to keep the liquid inside.

    As she
spoke of her visit with her Mother and Father, I became entranced with her
eyes. There must be something wrong with me. My mind is as sharp as an Irish
Housewife’s tongue but when I see her I become unable to think or use anything
but the vocabulary of a four year old.
    “Simon?”
    She
just said something that doesn’t have anything to do with Japan, I think.
  There was another fifth bottle facing the previous with about three inches
of space between them. They were connected with a plastic tube that had a very
sharp nail in it, the pointed in the direction of the latter bottle. This
bottle was fashioned the same as the first except that a rubber balloon was
substituted for the tissue paper. The balloon was wrapped very tightly over the
opening of the bottle so that the slightest prick would tear it open and the
liquid inside the brimming full bottle would come gushing out and fill the
tube. At the bottom end of the bottle was the same mixture of broken glass and
shrapnel. Followed by some cotton and a plastic cap, to keep everything inside.

    “Simon?
Are you alright?”
    Wait,
she is talking to me. I should respond. Something that lets her know that I was
listening and not undressing her in my mind. What was the last thing she talked
about? If I could remember that then I could say something witty.
  Inside the neck of the bottle with the facial tissue cap were three
circular pieces of cardboard, each with a tiny hole punched into them. The
holes were punched near the edge of the circles and they were placed in the
neck so that they were, if compared to a compass rose, one at north, the next
at south, and the last at north again. The openings were small enough to let a
little bit a liquid, in our case gasoline, into the first chamber that was created and only vapors into the next.
The cardboard from the first chamber was almost completely soaked at this
point, which was the intent for its purpose. The bottle with the balloon was
filled practically to bursting with atomic number 17, liquid chlorine. When the
tube hit the floor the balloon was punctured by the nail and the chlorine
filled the tube and began to dissolve the tissue.

    My mind began racing, franticly
trying to think of a response. My eyes were darting all over the hallway: the
door to her apartment, her breasts, the wall behind her, my shoes, her nose,
her breasts, her door again. Say something Simon!
    “Uh,
Yeah. So Ms. Nozoki, ah, Tess, um, I was thinking, uh, maybe since you are back
in town now, that, uh, maybe we could go have some coffee, or something, and
you, um, could tell me about your, uh, trip?”
    “Simon, I just did that, remember?
Weren’t you listening? You look like you were somewhere else…”
    “No, I, I meant that we should go
out to dinner tonight and we can just chat about other parts of your trip that
you have yet to mention.”
    Nice one. I have finally come back
to my senses. Now to clinch the deal.
    “Tess, I have always wanted to tell
you something and I think that this might be the right time to do so.”
    At this her eye lit up and her face
became flush. She look at me and she smiled a little bit.
    “What is it Simon?”
    “Well, Tess…”
  It
was at this very point in time that something fantastic happened. The
chlorine had completely dissolved the tissue by now and the fumes
from the gasoline mixed with that of the chlorine to make a very
volatile
concoction. My apartment
blew up.

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