three fifty seven

She is standing at the door of his kitchen.

ache¹: So where’s your landlord?

He is pulling a heavily buttered knife across the lip of a saucepan on the cooker.

Skunk: He’s at his sister’s. She came down this morning with her kids and took him away. He said he’d be back on Wednesday but he’ll ehm, he said he’d call to let me know what was happening.

The butter begins to fizz upon the heat.

Skunk (pouring in a little milk): Can you pass me those eggs?

She reaches for the wrong box in the fridge.

Skunk: No, no those are his. Mine are the red ones underneath.

ache¹: Here ya go.

Skunk: Thanks.

He stirs the milk and butter together with a wooden spatula, before reaching for the eggs.

ache¹: So... we have the place to ourselves?

and does something with her eyebrows familiar to Skunk.

Skunk: I’ve never had sex with a pregnant woman before.

They both laugh.

ache¹: I didn’t say I wanted to have sex.

Skunk (mimicing her voice): “I didn’t say I wanted to have sex.” You didn’t say you wanted mumbled eggs on toast either

breaking the first egg into the pan

Skunk: but you’re getting them.

ache¹: What’s the difference though, between scrambled and

mumbling

ache¹: mumbled?

Skunk (another egg fracturing into the mix): Dammit I’m not actually, I think if you’re, if you’re making scrambled eggs you do it all beforehand, you know, you beat everything together and then cook it up. Mumbled eggs you just do straight in the pan.

He takes a third egg from out the carton and is horrified by an irregular bloat swollen out from its shell, as if something extra has been grafted on.

Skunk (weighing it in his palm): JESUS!

ache¹ (taking it from him): What is that? Does that mean there’s a chick in, is that what that

Skunk: I don’t know I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know. Oh Jesus. Suddenly I’m not so hungry.

ache¹ flips the lid of the bin and places the egg down inside.

Skunk: How does just toast grab you?