Author's note: Yes, I know that this took an ungodly amount of time to be posted. I had half of it written, and then school attacked me. Not only did it attack me, but it attacked hardcore. So, having said that, I proudly present the third chapter of "1:37 p.m.: An Excellent Time". Dedicated to Ellen, for beta-ing, and to Chris, for actually yelling a lot of Mimi's dialogue at me when we were breaking up. Thanks, and enjoy!

--------------------------

"Hey, honey," Mimi cooed. The short brunette stirred a pan of something over the little camp stove, turning around to grin and greet her boyfriend when he came through the door. She blew him a delicate kiss and turned back to her cooking. Roger smiled nervously and sniffed the air. Definately mushroom soup. His nose wrinkled. (We should note, however, that it's not like Roger had any latitude to talk about who was a bad cook. Everyone in the building had known of his cooking skills after the Infamous Spaghetti Incident.)

"Baby?" Roger ventured cautiously. "We need to, uh, talk."

"Roger." Mimi sighed and turned to face him. "How many times do I have to tell you? I was not the one who taped that Billy Graham thing over your favorite video. I don't even have that kind of technology." She turned back to the soup, shaking her head slightly. It wasn't her fault that someone else had clumsy fingers, a VCR, and a religious channel. Mimi highly suspected Benny. He'd recently gotten out of the whole slumlording thing and gotten back into the church. The building had improved since then, so she wasn't complaining. Much. The missionaries who knocked at her door constantly, saying, "I have come to lead you to the Lord--Benny sent me," were more than a little annoying.

"No, it's not that. This is, uh, this is very hard for me to say." Roger looked down at the ground, shifting from one foot to another. He knew his girlfriend's temper all too well. Roger wasn't really as in control in the relationship as he seemed. In fact, he was really quite "whipped", in the subservient sense. Sometimes, literally. He hadn't realized what he was getting into when he and Mimi started going out. Who *really* wants a sex-crazed dominatrix with bad taste in music? He gulped and opened his mouth. Like usual, it was the stupidest action he could have taken. "Mimi, we've had a great time together and-"

"Had?" Mimi put the stirring spoon down on the counter and snapped her head around to look at the blundering musician. Her voice raised. "HAD? 'We've had a great time together, but no more'? Or 'We've had a great time together, and let's hope there's fifty more great years to follow'?" Mimi's eyes narrowed. "Which is it, Roger? Are you leaving for Santa Fe again, or are you leaving me for someone else?"

Roger's jaw would have dropped to the ground, if that that had been physically possible. Mimi crossed the room, leaving the soup unattended. Looking like a cat on the prowl, Mimi stalked over to where Roger stood, with a surprised smile on his face. 'This is great! All I'll have to do is tell her it's Mark, and then it'll be okay. Maybe she'll feed me soup,' he thought.

It seemed that Roger never learned.

"Yeah! I'm in love with Mark-- how'd you know?" He was about to sigh in relief that the worst part of telling her was over, when a pointy heel hit him in the middle of his stomach. Mimi had thrown her shoes at him and was heading back to her bedroom for more ammunition.

"Do you think I can't see? Do you think we're all blind?" Roger immediately reached around for the envelope in his back pocket. Maybe she did have X-ray vision. He had always suspected so. 'It would be just like her to have magic powers and not let me in on it,' he thought. "Everybody knows, Roger!" she continued. "And I'm just a joke to everyone, because I stick with you anyway. I'm a stupid, selfish girl, and I hate you for making me this way. I hate you!" Her words cut through the air, leaving an echo as she sunk to her knees. "I hate you," she murmered to herself. Mimi had collapsed in a small pile on the floor, where she kept telling herself that she hated Roger.

The mushroom soup began to boil over. It slowly crept up to the brim of the pot, trickling quietly down the sides at first. A loud pop sounded, as the soup came to full boil. The exploding discount store soup dispersed itself to various parts of the room. Suddenly, the soup smelled very delicious to Roger. It had been a while since Roger had tasted good soup... the last time he was very sick, Mark had fixed him some homemade soup to make him feel better. Though he had appreciated Mark's effort, Roger had really wanted something can-shaped. Something with a slightly metallic aftertaste. Something that screamed, "I only cost five-cents if my can is bashed in!" The ignored soup was calling to him. Roger turned away from the crumpled ball that Mimi had formed herself into and headed towards the soup pan.

Mimi looked up from the floor to see Roger dipping a spoon into the lumpy grey concoction. "I hate you," she muttered. Slowly, quietly, she stood up. Shaking slightly, she walked purposefully to the counter. She turned the heat down on the camp stove's burner and slipped her hand around the handle of the pot. Composing herself, she said only three words to her now ex-boyfriend.

"Is it good?"

Roger nodded enthusiastically, looking like a small child. Mimi smiled faintly before turning the pan upside down over his head.