the stomach pat

by clairebare

the inevitable finale of the mentalist reboot. wherein the writers phone it in and the viewers witness Patrick Jane's I.Q. plunging into the double digits.

I hug Lisbon being careful of her delicate midsection.

The stomach pat.

It's obvious that Lisbon's telling me she's got a bellyache.

I never should have let the Abbotts choose the caterers.

Lena with her jutting head and jaw looks like she polishes off live mice for dinner.

No wonder poor Lisbon is making like she got hold of a bad clam.

"Patrick," she says biting her lower lip. "Why don't we slip away and find a place to..."

She forms her thumb and forefinger into an "O" and rapidly inserts and withdraws the pointer finger of her other hand through the "O."

I study the motion.

"Sorry, Teresa. I'm not following you."

She drops her mouth open, sticks her tongue out and waggles it up and down.

Is she about to toss up that platter of rumaki?

I leap to my feet to give her room.

She stands.

Again she does the tongue waggle while raising her eyebrows up and down.

I know reverse peristalsis when I see it.

How can I help?

I know.

I'll hold her hair while she pukes.

I reach my hand out and suddenly understand why she's wearing all her hair to one side wild west saloon girl-style.

How prescient my Teresa is.

She anticipated that a tray of pigs in a blanket combined with seeing Wylie and Karl do the Macarena might nauseate her.

And here I thought her hairdo was just a tragic lapse in taste.