Panther Prattle

Disclosure of Winning Lottery Numbers Strongly Desired

I give the white-haired, white-clad salon philosopher the eagle eye, expecting one of my two facial nerves to intuit pending danger.

She remits a toastier, more intense admiration before cracking a smile so dazzling, I reflexively reach for my sunglasses.

"Would it make a difference if she did?" jokes Freddy.

"Umm, ma'am... before you give her hoodoo presentation... what about the lottery numbers? Can you give the inside on that?" huffs a presumed gambler devotedly studying the race results.

A ripple of laughter bounces around the highly stylized space and ends with Eiram releasing a muffled cackle.

"Were you comfortable?" she inquires after hush falls.

I stifle a sneeze, then reply, "Very."

Eiram's smile magnifies and slices the lower half of her face into a dental teeth model.

Mavis taps my shoulder twice with a wide tooth comb, then enthuses, "Awww Sookie, Sookie now."

Freddy drops a clipper guard into a cylinder filled with electric blue solution, then proclaims, "Spill the beans, Ms. Thing."

Eiram lodges her pointer just shy of the dimple decorating her right cheek and adds, "Was he confident?"

"Confident?" I reply with a raised eyebrow.

Eiram nods.

A lady dressed in enough lavender taffeta to be mistaken for an Easter egg stops fanning, mid-fan and lasers her eyes on me.

Freddy slams his hand on his hip, seizes his lips into an odd angle, then chomps gum like a cow chewing cud.

"Well, he certainly was not embarrassed," I mouth lowly, for Eiram's ears only.

"All is being revealed," she foretells so clearly my spine tingles, the overhead lights flash, Freddy releases a dramatic gasp and Mavis complains, "Freddy, you know damn well the circuit breaker just flipped."