Iglesia ……………………………………… Episode 41

(Iglesia is a serialized novel, published on Tuesdays and Saturdays at midnight ET, you can read all of the episodes by clicking on the tag.)

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This time it was Rogers’ left hand that twitched which was interesting because Abe had assumed it was reaction. But most untrained people always reacted with their dominant hand, so…Rogers probably had some training. Either that, or that whole not really having a body as Abe knew it caused the interesting effect. He wondered which was …..her ….dominant hand. He wondered if she liked to punch on the line or if she preferred some kind of roundhouse action. Whether she favored palm or fist, went for the head ….or the torso first. Of course, most women were trained to go for the genitals…. Abe had actually closed his eyes and was visualizing ….her….doing high spinning back roundhouse kicks, in slow motion, when he felt Rogers’ hand strike his face

Wow.

And he was yelling too!

“…. for absolutely the very last time you impertinent, vacuous, love sick buffoon,  SHE IS MARRIED.”

Ok……………….this time it was a poleaxe. Wielded by Andre The Giant. In his prime. Right to the solar plexus. He sat down on the floor of the corridor. Hard.

When he came back from the Land of Intolerable Pain, Rogers had apparently given up on him and was having tea. Sitting comfortably at the little tea table in a silvered wire chair and reading an impeccably folded newspaper. What looked to be…the cricket scores. Combined with the just starting to close hole that ran through his entire being like the center of a doughnut, his next thought made him want to just end all existence, for himself and all others, if strictly necessary. Though he was open to other options. For in one of the most egregious insults to his self-image, added to the most grievous injury he had ever experienced to his heart, he heard himself thinking, and almost said aloud….”my, but a cup of tea would be nice right about now.” If he had had his sidearm, he would have used it.

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Previous pertinent episode

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“A black spandex catsuit, no floppy fabric to get caught on anything, doesn’t make noise when you move, makes you invisible at night, very practical.”

“Yes, ahem, I’m …sure. I am however unfamiliar with absolutely all of the, ahem, modern advances in garment technology. Would you be so kind as to, perhaps, describe exactly what the garment in question would look like, while simultaneously doing your best to picture it in your mind?”

“Uh, sure, Slim, my bad……how would you know that sort of thing?” She closed her eyes and concentrated for a second. “Thick, stretchy, form fitting, tear resistant fabric. One piece, with padding in all the right places for fighting or ……”

‘Slim’ was looking her up and down in such a way as to make her suddenly stop talking and gawk back at him, she could swear that his nerdy little glasses were fogging up. It finally occurred to her to look down at herself and……. she was wearing a black spandex catsuit and some nice Kung Fu slippers. From the look on his face…..which pissed her off immensely….she thought maybe she had over done it a bit on the ‘form fitting’ part. So she closed her eyes and imagined exactly what she wanted down to the last detail…..which included much more, and much more strategically placed…padding. And a couple of strategically placed pockets, too.