Elliott approaches Shavian, his heart pounding. He has never seen anything so beautiful, so desirable. Her amber eyes shine like polished amber, so amber in their amberiness, like someone had taken her eyes and sent them through a polishing tumbler. Her hair flows out behind her in a breeze that seems to come from nowhere. Elliott is so taken with her loveliness that he doesn’t question the inexplicable wind blowing through an enclosed boutique in a mall… in July…
Has she always been wearing that flowery, off the shoulder peasant blouse and corset?
Shavian spies him coming her way (ba dum dum), and she swoons, her creamy white breasts heaving. She looks down at them in surprise; certainly they had heaved before, but never quite like this. It must be a response to Elliott’s sheer animal magnetism, a charisma she’s never noticed before, wafting off of him, musk-like, like a musk ox.
He catches her before she falls, smoothing her curly red hair back away from her perfect face.
“My darling, my Shavian,” he whispers. “My ginger… so appropriate that you’re so sweet.”
Shavian curls her hand around the back of his neck, throwing her head back in ecstasy for no good reason. “But ginger isn’t sweet,” she says. “It’s hot.” She purses her red lips and pulls him down to kiss her.
She pulls away, breathless. “Elliott,” she gasps. “You’ve never been this…forceful before. You’ve always been such a dork.”
Elliott blinks at her. “A dork? You think I’m a dork?” he asks, his ardor somewhat deflated.
“A sexy dork,” she clarifies, pulling him down for another kiss. His ego bruised but his heart swollen, Elliott lifts her up on the table, and her hair spreads out over a blanket of tank tops.
Elliott pauses when the horse-sized bumblebee floats by with Junie on its back.
“Junie, what are you doing here?” he asks. “And why are you riding a bee?”
“It’s existential, Elliott,” Junie says, as though it were so obvious. “Like this, I can just… bee.” She giggles, and turns to face you. Behind her, Elliott and Shavian are lost in their embrace, the fiery passion of their love burning-
“Yeah, yeah, we get the point,” Junie says, and you swear she’s looking right at you. “Hey, folks. Don’t mind us. This is just the authors messing with you. It’s all Elliott’s dream or something. Or is it your dream?
And oh yeah… Happy April Fool’s Day!”