The Chameleon

The Breakfast Tango

Lindsey was in the kitchen preparing a breakfast feast. 

I grabbed a bag of coffee from the freezer and ground it to a coarse consistency which is ideal for making top notch java's in the french press. 

I peered through the window to witness Greg finishing up the paper route. He ran into his house to change shirts then back outside to do a once over on his car. He feverishly searched for dents and scratches before peeling off into the distance. Lindsey and I danced seamlessly around each other performing a flawless rendition of the breakfast tango. I boiled some water as she chopped up peppers and onions, with tears swimming uncontrollably down her cheeks. I tell her every morning not to breathe through her mouth but what does she do? The exact opposite.

We sat at our quaint little table by the window and began breakfast.

"What are you doing today?" she asked.

"I'm going to pop over to the shooting range for a few hours this afternoon. Should be back around 4pm. You?"

"I am going to the yoga studio with Michelle around 3."

"Okay, did you want to do dinner after? Greg told me about some place with amazing foie gras!"

She laughed, "sure babe, sounds divine."

I went out on the porch to read the paper and quaff my black coffee. I sifted through the dross that filled the first few pages until I found something worth my while. I stumbled upon an article detailing the characteristics of a lizard, the chameleon.

The chameleon boasts several slippery traits. Firstly, they have the ability to change colors. They do this for several reasons; the main one being to protect themselves from prey. They also change color as a social signal. When they switch to a darker color, it can represent anger or an attempt to intimidate other chameleons; when they (usually males) switch to a lighter color, it is in an attempt to pursue females. Secondly, their eyes are more distinctive than any other species of reptile. They move independently, allowing them to follow two separate objects simultaneously.

"You slippery little fucking lizard," I yelled to myself as I perused the tail end of the article.

"What was that?' Lindsey hollered from the stairs.

"Nothing dear."

I obnoxiously slurped back the remaining drops of my cafe noir and lingered back inside. Lindsey was up in the shower, getting wet, so I decided to join her. The shower is where her and I gossip.

"Are you excited to shoot skeets with your buddies today?" she asked, trying her hardest not to smile.

"You're a pervert... but yes, I'm pretty fired up. Sure beats whatever Greg is doing."

"Yeah, I feel horrible for earlier. He probably heard me howling from across the street."

"I'm sure he thought you were laughing at something else..." I reassured her.

"You're just saying that"

"Yes. Yes I am."

I turned the tap off with my feet.

"Ewwww," Lindsey whined. "I hate when you do that."

"Love you," I said in an attempt to save myself.

"I love you too weirdo."

"Awwww."

"Shutup."