"You bellowed?"
"Yeah. Help me with this fahr-cock-tah thing." He slapped the tie at the young man.
"Fahr-cock-tah? Picking up interesting language from Michelle are we?" He draped the tie around his own neck to make the appropriate adjustments.
Jim huffed. "That's it. I'm not going."
"Jim, man..." Blair wrapped one end of the tie around the other. "you've got to go. You promised Michelle you'd meet her father while he was in town." He completed a perfect full Windsor, loosened it, slipped it over his head and handed it to his brooding roommate.
Jim snagged the tie from Blair and looking at it shoved it back at him. "Too bulky. I need a half Windsor."
Blair bit down on the urge to say, "Then do it yourself," and slipped the tie back over his head for a redo.
"And explain to me again why his last name is Fivel..."
Blair let out an exasperated sigh. "I told you. Michelle's mom didn't want to get married. I guess, at least he was part of her life." He slipped the tie over his head again. "Here's your HALF Windsor."
Jim accepted the tie and mumbled a half-hearted thank you before putting it on and adjusting it. "Why does he have to be part of my life?"
"Because Michelle is," Blair told him matter-of-factly. "Besides, it's just one evening. It's not like he lives in town."
"That's just it. He doesn't live in town. Why does Chelle need me to meet him?"
Blair cocked an eyebrow. "Look at it this way, big guy, she got to meet the great William Ellison."
"So, you're saying she's trying to get even with me."
The younger man's laughter was interrupted by the phone ringing. Still grinning he answered. There was a pause. then, "Yeah, I'll send him down. Bye." He moved back to his friend. "Your carriage awaits."
Jim merely rolled his eyes and headed out the door.
Two hours later....
Blair set the plate that held a sandwich and macaroni salad on the table and returned to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. He was just cracking the cap on the bottle when a very weary looking James Ellison came through the door. Blair looked in surprise. "Jim?"
Jim held up one hand indicating he didn't want to talk about it. With the other hand he loosened and removed the tie. Annoyed, he dropped the offending item into the basket with his keys.
"Uh, oh, what did you do?" Blair asked his friend as he sat at the table.
"Nothing. Her father likes early evenings."
Jim straddled a chair across from his roommate and wordlessly reached over taking half of the young man's sandwich, tearing into it with vigor.
"Help, yourself," Blair said giving an irritated look. Watching Jim wolf the food like he hadn't eaten in weeks he inquired, "What happened? I thought you guys went to dinner."
Jim glanced up. "Is that what you call it," he said through a final mouthful.
Blair hadn't really expected a story. But he got one.
"We had to go to her father's favorite restaurant," Jim began out of nowhere. "The Chinese Emerald. Seems it's the only place he'll eat in Cascade. I'm telling you, Junior, it was the pits. The food had no flavor.... none. I don't mean it was bland either. That I could have dealt with."
His friend eyed him with concern. "Maybe something's with you senses..."
Jim was already shaking his head. "Uh, uh. No."
"Did you adjust the dials?"
"Did I adjust the dials? Of course, I did. What do you think?"
Blair shrugged.
"Trust me. I had it dialed up. I had it dialed all the way up."
"Are you sure?"
Jim was growing frustrated. "I had it all the way on eleven. Believe me, Chief, I could taste the chopsticks. I could taste the wok it was cooked in..."
"Okay, I get it."
"No, you don't." He reached over and picked up Blair's fork and started in on the macaroni salad. "I swear if I had badged my way into the kitchen I would have found a flavor extracting machine."
Blair attempted to retrieve his eating utensil. "Flavor extracting machine?" Jim was too quick as he stabbed more pasta and forked it into his mouth.
"Yeah." Jim's mood lightened. "You know the flavor zapper by Ronco." He laughed at his own joke, pleased that his friend chuckled with him. Then he noticed that he had polished off the side dish from said friend's plate. Sheepishly, he laid the fork aside. "Sorry, I guess I ate your dinner."
Blair rose. "S'okay, man. I can make more." He carried the plate to the counter.
"Worst part about this evening," Jim reflected, "With her father there I didn't even get a goodnight kiss."
A mischievous smirk appeared on Blair's face. He crossed to his friend and dropping an arm across his shoulders leaned over and planted a kiss on top of his head.
Jim laughed once. "Thanks, Chief, but it's not the same."
"Not suppose to be, Big Guy."
Jim smiled at him. "Chief, you are going to make more food. Right?"
This time Blair laughed. "Sure thing. Just wait til I run it through the flavor zapper first..."
THE END