Category: The Eyes Have It


The Dross of Tuesday

“Are you sure these aren’t leftovers?” Faustus hissed to Cecilia. “This sure seems… reheated.” He swallowed thickly and took a deep drink from the wine in his glass. “Good wine though.”

“Calamari has a texture that is unique and a flavor that is something of an aquired taste,” the food critic said. “This establishment has a reputation for a good calamari, among other things. That’s why we’re here. You are – ostensibly – my date. So be nice.”

“Date… does that mean I’m paying? I thought that Philias was picking up the tab, you know, because you’re –”

“Shh,” Cecilia hissed. “I don’t want them to know I’m critiquing the place. I want them to treat me like they would any patron. You like the wine, hmm?”

Well, fauns, you know, we like wine. I’m no expert, but this is pretty good. Nice and full-bodied but not over the top, you know?” He looked around, then served himself a bit of the fried ravioli. After a small bite, he smiled. “This is really good.”

Cecilia nodded and continued eating. For her, eating was an experience and Faustus found that he was grinning at the sight of her. “Some places bring out their worst meals for organizational meetings. That’s when you might see leftovers. I’ll be back tomorrow with the sisterhood and we’ll see how they treat us.”

“Who’s going to mess with a bunch of harpies?” Faustus muttered. He held up a hand at the other reporter and shook his head. “Really, Ceci, they’d have to be crazy to tick off harpies. Talk about reputations.”

“We also have the reputation of being non-discriminating about our food,” she explained. “If they’re going to short-cut with anyone; it’ll be harpies.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Faustus allowed. “Anyway… since I’m your date… I’m paying?”

“Philias will reimburse you,” Cecilia assured him.

“He’d better,” Faustus said, settling back as the waiter came to take their appetizer plates to make way for the main course.

One Thing Straight

“Chief? I’m not happy, chief,” Corny said as he bounded into the break-room. He waved a finger at the centaur and said, “Not happy at all.”

“What’s wrong?” Philias said, setting aside his mini-computer and giving the urisk his full attention. “Krys is playing around with formatting on the blog. I take it, you really don’t like the changes.”

“My tab,” Corny said. “My tab is gone. I can’t find it. It’s gone. My readers won’t be able to find it either. Pull up the blog, pull it up.”

Philias barely restrained a giggle and pulled the blog up on his minicomputer. Sure enough only the front page – his own contribution today – was clearly visible. The other pages were buried and harder to find. “I’ll tell her to fix the formatting,” he promised.

“You’d better,” Corny said. He turned to leave, repeating, “You’d better.”

As a child, Philias had always loved Sharing Time. It was that time of day, that special moment, when you got to stand up and talk about what ever you wanted. As he grew, he learned that what interested you might be boring for other people and it was important to talk about the right things to the right people.

Now, he was grown and the editor and chief coordinator of the fastest growing news blog on the Eastern Islands. Once more he was given the chance to stand up and talk about whatever he wanted. Now it was to a larger audience and with a lot more people interested in what he had to say.

He smiled as he looked at the title of his next piece. “Who said sharing was for kindergarten?” it read. Still smiling, he began to type. “As a child, Sharing Time was always my favorite part of the day.”

Monica Ferris

an author with many hats

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