Q & A #28
by Colleen Hillerup
Spike sat the plastic tray on the plastic table top, then sat in his plastic chair. "There you go, sweetheart. Happy meal with nuggets." He placed the paper containers in front of his daughter and her mother. "And for you, my love, salad and a diet coke. Sure you don't want a big mac?"
"I'm sure," Buffy replied. "Aren't you having anything?"
"Here?" Spike pointed to the menu. "And what would you suggest I have? Nothing remotely appealing, far as I can see. You'd think Sunnydale's Micky D's would include a little something red and tastey, but no. Now, in Germany, ask for a meal and you get an ale. My kind of fast food." He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head at Buffy. "No comments from the peanut gallery."
Meredith opened her container, and popped a fry into her mouth. "Why can't we eat at the Doublemeat Palace? Mindy had her birthday party there. They have cow hats."
Buffy paled. "No, not the ..." She shook her head. "I can't even say it. Just eat your nuggets."
Meredith dipped the nugget into her ketshup, and took a bite. "Um. Good. What's in the nugget, Mommy?"
"Chicken. Mostly."
"How does the chicken get in the nugget?" Meredith considered the meat in her hand. "Wait a minute. Chickens are birdies. Am I eating a birdie?"
"Yes, love." Spike stole one of her fries. "Chickens are birdies. You're eating a birdie." Buffy kicked him under the table. "Best not to think about it, really."
Meredith dropped the half eaten nugget on the table. "I can't eat birdies." Horror spread over her face. "Dead birdies?"
Buffy pictured the little funeral the three had held for the dead sparrow Meredith had found in the back yard. She didn't relish the idea of burying her daughter's dinner with the same ceremony. "Some birds are meant to fly. Some are meant to eat. That's just the way it is."
Spike shifted in his chair. A few short years ago, he would have said the same thing about people.
Meredith stuck her nuggets back in the container. "I think I'll just eat my fries now. Okay?"
Spike patted her hand. "Okay."
by Colleen Hillerup
Spike sat the plastic tray on the plastic table top, then sat in his plastic chair. "There you go, sweetheart. Happy meal with nuggets." He placed the paper containers in front of his daughter and her mother. "And for you, my love, salad and a diet coke. Sure you don't want a big mac?"
"I'm sure," Buffy replied. "Aren't you having anything?"
"Here?" Spike pointed to the menu. "And what would you suggest I have? Nothing remotely appealing, far as I can see. You'd think Sunnydale's Micky D's would include a little something red and tastey, but no. Now, in Germany, ask for a meal and you get an ale. My kind of fast food." He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head at Buffy. "No comments from the peanut gallery."
Meredith opened her container, and popped a fry into her mouth. "Why can't we eat at the Doublemeat Palace? Mindy had her birthday party there. They have cow hats."
Buffy paled. "No, not the ..." She shook her head. "I can't even say it. Just eat your nuggets."
Meredith dipped the nugget into her ketshup, and took a bite. "Um. Good. What's in the nugget, Mommy?"
"Chicken. Mostly."
"How does the chicken get in the nugget?" Meredith considered the meat in her hand. "Wait a minute. Chickens are birdies. Am I eating a birdie?"
"Yes, love." Spike stole one of her fries. "Chickens are birdies. You're eating a birdie." Buffy kicked him under the table. "Best not to think about it, really."
Meredith dropped the half eaten nugget on the table. "I can't eat birdies." Horror spread over her face. "Dead birdies?"
Buffy pictured the little funeral the three had held for the dead sparrow Meredith had found in the back yard. She didn't relish the idea of burying her daughter's dinner with the same ceremony. "Some birds are meant to fly. Some are meant to eat. That's just the way it is."
Spike shifted in his chair. A few short years ago, he would have said the same thing about people.
Meredith stuck her nuggets back in the container. "I think I'll just eat my fries now. Okay?"
Spike patted her hand. "Okay."