It was a weekend of dreams. A smog clearing away from my heart and a spark in the dark, leaving a dancing glow on my retinas that seemed to last forever. That weekend, I entered the dilemma of this life.
As it occurred, we had both found it fitting to check in some extra hours that Saturday. Not that we'd get paid for it - we never get paid for extra time - but both Mr Berringer and I loved our work and took great pride in giving as much of our time as possible to our research.
So there we sat, working out calculations, trying different approaches to our problems and pondering if there was any mass-solutions available for the many unwanted thistles that seemed to pop up up in our virtual garden. Since we both loved our work, it was not before long that afternoon had turned to evening and darkness started to fall outside our laboratory. I slowly started to feel a little hungry, and a wiff-waff of delightful aromas had already begun spreading through our work complex, from the preparations of a company party that was to take place in the same building. Freshly baked crayons (that had been thoughtfully prepared in the company's viral hatching apparatuses!), newly boiled parapamun superfish with tons of dill, and a full array of delicacies were being prepared by Mr Mahmut in an all too nearby room.
Mr Mahmut took great pride in his cooking, even though his ambitions at the company was far from being its chef. He was normally the supervisor of the accounting department, sometimes helping out with burning the ticks from our lab cats, but never was he as enthusiastic as when it came to spawning ideas for the next festive occasion that would bring the company's employees together in ridiculous rituals of wild feasting, carnal revelry and undulant merrymaking. His baked crayons, carefully wrapped in colourful bits of neoplastic papers, were especially appreciated.
It was not that Mr Berringer and I did not approve of such festivities. We just weren't invited. Nobody knew why. But as it was, Mr Berringer had thoughtfully prepared small packages of fermented selles d'escargot, for just this type of occasion. Neither of us had the mildest interest of abandoning our work - we had experienced too much success already that day - so even to consider going back to the outside world at that point seemed like a ridiculous notion. Of note here is that I had just an hour before managed to purge 58 (!) bugs in one manic stroke of stealth and well practised discipline. Both me and Mr Berringer both drank heavily of the Mem'Quan-Quan spirits, the company's cleaning fluid, to stay sharp and merry, even through seemingly hopeless odds. If it was the spirits or our endless stream of creativity that took us through that night, I swear I'll never know.
After enjoying a good meal, we both got back to work. However, we had not sat long before Mr Berringer's phone rang. He flew up to quench its annoying signal, but as it turned out, my phone started ringing as well. Mutually stupified, we both just stared at each other for a short moment, before forming a silent agreement that we both see what the outside world wanted our feeble carcasses to achieve on this darkening evening. As it was, we both were invited to parties. On one line was my sister, Ms Sarkula the third, and on Mr Berringer's phone was Mr Ehkeel, an old acquaintance of his.
Mr Ehkeel wanted us to join him and a couple of friends for drinks - they had already begun mixing up a deadly cocktail of moldy maple syrup and sunflowers - on the other side of town, while my sister was pushing hard for us to take part in a fête de relocalisation not too far from our workplace. Dizzy from our successes in the laboratory, we decided to leave our work and check out the most nearby of the festivities. We could always make it a polite visit and return to work - or get over to the other side of town, should it turn out to be a dull and filthy happening. Either way, we loaded up with a big canister of the old Quan-Quan and got on our way.
There had been a horrible storm of mixed snow, hailstones and desperate downpour earlier that afternoon, while we had rested comfortably in our work station, but now it seemed to be clearing up. Mr Berringer considered bringing his umbrella as a precaution, but he could not find it. It might have been left at the post office, where we spent the last night opening forbidden letters and drinking apple soda. In sympathy for his lack of protection, I decide not to bring my coat.
So there we went, dressed in summer clothing and with only the canister in hand, when it suddenly started pouring. The rain was so intense that we couldn't see our own hands, should we hold out them in front of us. We were soaked in seconds, and I was lucky to be able to switch of my newly acquired phone (it was the latest BioCell Xhscre'Csha and I know not what electrical havoc it might have created, had it been turned on).
Feeling macho, we decided not to run for the bus. What good would it do? We were already soaked to the bone. When at last we arrived at the bus stop, the bus - with my sister on it - had already left. Blast and damnation! Now we would have to walk all the way upp to the North Furlad, which was the district where the party was being held. It took us all of fifteen minutes to get there, but since the rain had suddenly stopped, this brought along some advantages as well; as we finally approached the grounds of the party - we had started to dry up!
I had never seen so many beautiful women in my life. The air was filled with scents, laughter and good spirits. Our host, Ms Fempah, had made a delicious beer cake, stuffed with sweet soil and baked until perfect smudginess. My sister greeted us both with warm hugs and jolly exclamations over how happy she was that we decided to come and made it through the rain alive. We quickly decided not to rush back to our laboratory.
As I was mingling through the party, meeting a whole array of Sarkula's friends, I suddenly saw something that took me completely out of the blue. The world slowly seemed to melt around me and there I was, standing on the edge of an invisible cliff and just stared at the marvel ahead of me. "That has to be the most exquisite dimple I have seen in my life", I remember thinking. And what a dimple it was. I could not control myself and suddenly I had given it a loud compliment without barely registering its owners name. When I shook her hand, I noted she had a firm grip and an intense gaze. Her name - was Em'Reeka. Jolly as I was feeling, I took note of three things in a quick succession. Her height - she was nearly as tall as I, even without high heels, and here I must admit it was an absolute raffle just to have such a beauty's eyes on the same level as mine. Second - the dimples, which just wouldn't let me settle down on earth again. Third: Her perfume. She smelled like... Magic.
I had earlier that week smelled something of similar exquisiteness, so I asked her if she might be wearing that same perfume that I had just learned by name; The young mistress of the Channel. It turned out to be wrong, and I felt a bit ashamed. But instead of letting my misstep show, I quickly leaned in, took a deep breath and gave her a compliment. Somewhere in my brain I had decided that if I ruin this moment, I shall at least enjoy it as much as possible.
I was the casanova. The Quan-Quan was surely doing its part and I had no boundaries. I was floating around the world, chatting with pretty girls and having more beer-cake. Life was good. Before long we were heading out. Some had not acquired the migrational allowance passes, and mine was out of date, so we decided to try and get into a legal bar for students and if that should fail, we'd seek other parties souterraines.
Since both me and Mr Berringer had arrived on foot, we borrowed the speeder bikes of Em'Reeka and Athunia, another girl at the party who had caught my interest. We let them sit in the back, while we took the wheels. Athunia kept saying that she was a rather good driver, but I had a hefty amount of confidence in my own leg muscles and would hear none of it. As I started to fall behind, Mr Berringer called me from Em'Reeka's phone - his had gone haywire from the rain - and checked to see if everything was up to speed, and I had to put some extra muscle into the bike in order to catch up with them.
When we reached the student bar, my not-to-valid migrational allowance pass turned out to do just fine. My sister did not share my luck, so she took her whereabouts to another city with a few of the other girls.
I stated earlier that Athunia had caught my interest, and I tried for a while to make some good conversation. This turned out disastrous, however. While we had a bit of fun chatting about old friends that we had in common, I could not stop thinking about Em'Reeka. Why was I chatting to this girl, when I knew that I wanted another girl's attention? "It's those goll-darned dimples", I thought to myself, "I can't stop thinking about the dimples!".
There was dancing. There was drinking. The student association served spirits in an infuriatingly limping pace and me and Mr Berringer stood for a very long time, just waiting for our bark beers and cherry berry shots™. Once we got them, Mr Berringer in all his drunken fury, happened to pour his cherry berry shot™ all over the counter. I urged him to get a new cherry berry shot™, but he would have none of it. This surprised me, as he was the one proposing the cherry berry shots™ in the first place. The drinks went down and so did we. The bar was closing up for the night and we followed a small delegation downstairs and underground. It was easy to find an after-party with such beautful girls in our midst!
Now, things started to get blurry. There was a whole lot of dancing. Em'Reeka seemed to be everywhere. She certainly was everywhere in my mind. Things didn't make sense anymore. I arm-wrestled a strange girl whom I barely remember the name of. She talked to much and stole my phone just to add her to my list of contacts. It was all rather confusing and I didn't feel that it took me anywhere. Still, I had great fun. I was thankful. What a delicious night this had turned into, from the successes at work to the amazitacular people I had met. Most of all, I was happy about having met Em'Reeka.
Suddenly, however, she had to leave. Still, I was in such a euphoric rush at having met such a wonderful example of biological ingenuity that I didn't take time to mourn. Instead, we wound up in a perfect kiss, both saying our good byes without words and with hearts full of hope. To this day, those beautiful dimples are on my mind. Ah. What dimples. What a scent. What a woman.
As you might recall, Mr Berringer had called me from her phone, which left me with her number. Short after her departure, I sent her a grateful text, just saying how happy I was to have met her. I might have snuck in a compliment or two. Either way, I quickly got a response loaded with hope of a second meeting. I was close to delirium.
The dilemma was - so was Mr Berringer. As we met the following evening, it turned out that he somehow had gotten her number as well. For some reason, be it out of gratitude and happiness, I decided to let him have his hopes. He knew about the kiss, but wouldn't be brought down. I was happy for him as well. But the next day came, and the next, and I couldn't get her off my mind. I decided to let it wait. Let them meet up. See if he still thinks they have a chance of becoming Mr and Mrs. If they don't, I certainly would not let the chance slip.
Then, it all turned a bit foul. She sent another happy message to me, this time hoping that I might join her meeting with Mr Berringer. It was too much. I knew that he was hoping for a romantic meeting between four eyes, and I could not accept. She might have taken offence at my not proposing another meeting, for I have not heard from her since.
Tonight, they meet. I await with eager anticipation. How will it turn out? Will I be able to see the dimples of my life again, before I leave the county next week? So many questions. So much hope. So much gratitude.
Ah lah lah lah lah lah lah lah life is Wonderful...
