Chocolate

“Penis chocolate?”.

It was a screech in my ear. Images of large chocolate phalluses flashed in my mind.

“Want penis chocolate?”

She urged more violently this time, flashing something under my nose.

I couldn’t quite see what it was she was waving about my nether regions.

I whispered into her ear, “Pardon?”.

This time she lifted the packet up a little higher until the light from the stage shone over the seat.

Peanut M&Ms

Relieved I reached down into the bag and pulled myself out a few of the sweets, not quite sure if the misunderstanding was a product of her language or because my attention was on other things. Nodding to her in thanks I put my full thought back to the play.

It was a good play, as far as these local ‘community drama group’ plays are good. You could feel the actors’ energy and that counted for a lot when contrasted to the over stylized shows I saw in the city these days. But my attention was drawn away from the play again; her lack of tranquility, her moving and writhing and crinkling of plastic next to me.

I looked over at her again, inviting, “Excuse me. What they say, before?”

I looked away quickly.

I had never been one for sartorial criticisms but sitting there in her grungy street clothes she was maladroit, around her a sea of black suits and eye pleasing dresses. I guess I could forgive her, her youth. But again she broke the sacrosanct barrier of self that I expect at a theatre. A place where I can go and be in a world my own, or more accurately, be alone in a world someone else creates for me.

“Excuse me sir. I don’t get that last part?”
“Be quiet child!”

I was already distracted from the performance. I felt like a fool for raising my voice to her but she didn’t seem too hurt. I took a quick glance at her. She caught me and smiled back.

“This is the first time I see stage show. Not on TV.”
“Ah.”

I really wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know why she was talking to me and I was worried about being a disturbance to the other people attending. She may have no qualms with being distracting, even annoying, but when I spoke it was in a hushed whisper. Maybe she just didn’t realize what she was doing.

I lent over, “It’s probably a good idea if you just watch ‘the show’ and, not, speak. Until it is over.”

She gave me a half smile and put her hands in her lap, straightened up and stared more intently at the stage. I couldn’t get back into it after that. I felt as if I had broken something in her. Oh bugger it! It I wasn’t going to enjoy it then I could at least help her to.

“You see that guy on the left?”

She nodded and smiled again.