Daisy sat at her typewriter and pretended to write. In fact, she was daydreaming about starring in her own soap opera, winning a Nobel Prize, joining the Peace Corps, taking horseback riding lessons, and finding the man of her dreams. Only the fantasy of learining how to ride a horse seemed remotely attainable, and Daisy even had doubts about that one since she was scared of horses. She admired them, she thought they were beautiful, but they were just so . . . big.
Her dream of finding Mr. Right was enjoyable, but rather troubling. Growing up, she'd always pictured someone tall, dark, and handsome, like Clark Gable, who would quite literally sweep her off her feet. Recently, her fantasy man had become less dark and more blond, occasionally bleach-blond. Her ideal man had become less of a knight-in-shining-armor and more of a . . . Jedi-Knight-Wannabe. Daisy was relieved when she heard a knock at the door and her uncomfortable thoughts were interrupted.
"'Ello, Poppet," Marsha crooned as she opened the door and stuck her head inside the flat. "Mind if I come in for a bit? I'm not disturbin' you, am I?"
"No!" Daisy was quick to assure Marsha. "I'm at a stopping point. Time for a break, I've been working for hours!" Daisy hastily whipped the blank pages out of her typewriter and stuffed them in a folder. "Come in, I'll make tea."
As Marsha settled herself at the kitchen table, there was another knock at the door. "Knock, knock!" Twist let herself in and squealed, "Ooh, I'm just in time for tea!" Marsha looked disappointed by the intrusion, but said nothing as Twist joined her at the table. Daisy put out a plate of biscuits as she waited for the kettle to boil.
Twist reached for a biscuit as she began chattering about work, about clothes, about Brian, about her latest shopping adventure. Marsha rolled her eyes and lit a cigarette. Daisy let the chatter wash over her as she set out three mugs and reached for the tea bags. "Daisy! Are you listening at all?" Twist demanded. "You haven't said anything about my dilemma of whether or not I should put highlights in my hair. My natural color is lovely, of course, but highlights are all the rage right now."
"Hm?" Daisy shook herself out of her reverie. She poured boiling water in the mugs over the tea bags and sat down at the table while the tea was steeping.
"What's wrong, dear? You seem a bit distracted," Marsha cut in, patting Daisy's hand soothingly. "What's on yer mind, Poppet?"
"To tell the truth, I've been thinking about Tim," Daisy confessed.
"Is that all!" scoffed Twist. "Hightlights are one thing, but that bleach job of his is just ridiculous! The Billy Idol look went out with the 80's."
"What about 'im, dear?" prompted Marsh, blowing smoke in Twist's face.
"Well, I don't know. I was thinking I'd like to do something . . . special for him. I mean, it's not his birthday, or anything, but I thought - -"
"You're goin' after yer man at last!" crowed Marsha. "I never really did buy the idea that you two weren't a couple. You just seem so perfect together." Marsha pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and beamed. "Now listen to me, Poppet," she continued as she pointed the cigarette in Daisy's direction. "The way to catch the attention of a man like that is through 'is stomach. You cook 'im up something special for 'is supper tonight. That'll make 'im sit up and take notice."
"Bollocks!" interrupted Twist. If she couldn't dominate the conversation talking about herself, she was willing to dominate the conversation talking about her best friend's lack of a love life. "The way to catch any man's attention is to fix yourself up. Make yourself look desirable, sexy. Well, " she amended, looking down her nose at Daisy, "at least not like you're straight off the football field. How much time before Tim gets home from work?"
"About four hours, give or take a few minutes."
"Not much time. Maybe you should cook for him after all. Marsha," Twist turned her attention to the landlady, "why don't you and Daisy plan a menu and go grocery shopping? I'll run back to mine and grab a few things. I'll meet you both back here in an hour and we'll pray for a miracle!" Twist flitted out of the flat, ticking a mental list off on her fingers. Jealous though she might be for not being the center of attention, Twist genuinely wanted to make Daisy look special for Tim, and she was thrilled to show off her area of expertise.
Daisy and Marsha decided on a simple stir-fry for supper, as Daisy would be pressed for time. They made a quick run to the market, then came back to Daisy's flat where they chopped vegetables, prepared the sauce, and placed the meat in the refrigerator to marinate. "Now all you need to do is warm the pan, put everything in, and you'll have supper in a jiffy!" Marsha beamed. "You'll see. 'E'll be eatin' out of your hand before the night's over." Daisy thought it was more likely that Tim would be eating directly out of the pan, rather than out of her hand, but she kept this to herself. Marsha was so happy with her matchmaking, and Daisy didn't want to spoil it for her.
"Knock, knock!" Twist's overly-cheerful voice caused the other two women to turn their attention toward the door. It appeared that Twist was moving in, or at least coming to stay for a very long visit. She lugged boxes and bags into the flat, stacking them haphazardly around the settee. "Who's ready for a makeover?"
"Daisy, sit still!" scolded Twist twenty minutes later as she applied the fourth shade of eyeshadow to Daisy's eyelids before shaking her head and wiping it off. "Now where did I put that light green shade?" she mused to herself as she dug through a huge bag of cosmetics.
"I thought that blue was a lovely color on 'er," Marsha offered from her perch on the edge of the bathtub.
Daisy was sat on the closed lid of the toilet, looking quite put out. Her face was a veritable palette of colors, with different shades of foundation, rouge, mascara, and the aforementioned eyeshadow. Twist was determined to find just the right colors for Daisy, but in her experimentation, Daisy more closely resembled a circus clown than a sex goddess.
"Ow!" Daisy cried out as Twist poked her in the eye with an eyeliner pencil.
"Sorry!" Twist tossed over her shoulder unrepentantly. "Let's see if that curling iron is hot." Forgetting about Daisy's face, Twist began curling Daisy's hair. Ten minutes and several scalp burns later, Twist stepped back to examine her work. "Well - - it's curly," she murmured noncommitally.
"Kind of got a Shirley Temple look," Marsha offered.
Daisy peeked around Twist to glance at herself the bathroom mirror. Medusa-like locks of hair snaked from every direction on her head. "Shit! What've you done?!" she cried.
"It just needs combing out. Let's go pick out your clothes." Twist breezed out of the bathroom and went into Daisy's bedroom.
She dug through Daisy's closet, stringing clothes out over every available surface, including the floor. She made Daisy try on several short and/or strapless dresses ("Where did I get so many slutty clothes?" Daisy wondered to herself), as well as every skirt-and-top combination. Twist lamented that Daisy didn't own any skin-tight trousers, then proceeded to dig into one of the large bags she had brought, stringing out an array of scarves, belts, and cheap costume jewelry. Finally, Twist selected a short, tight black skirt, a black tube top, some high-heeled strappy sandals, and an assortment of accessories. "There! That ought to get his blood racing. Oh my, look at the time! Tim'll be home in 30 minutes! You need to get dressed, Daisy. I'll lay out the makeup colors for you in the bathroom and pack the rest away. Don't forget to comb out your hair."
"I'll start warmin' the fryin' pan for you, Poppet," Marsha offered, going into the kitchen. She poured oil into the pan, set the burner on low, and placed the pan on the burner.
Twist bustled out of the bathroom. "Right, then, Daisy, we'll leave it to you!"
Daisy appeared in her bedroom door, clad only in her underwear, and waved to Twist and Marsha as they left the flat. She returned to her bedroom and started getting dressed. She changed into a lacy, black strapless bra and black knickers, then squeezed into the tube top. It was a tight fit and Daisy began to wonder if the top didn't actually belong to Twist. The skirt was next. Daisy pulled it on, then started to zip it up. The zip was in the back and difficult to reach. It got stuck midway. No matter what she did, Daisy could not get the zip to move either up or down. It was far enough up that she couldn't remove the skirt, no matter how much she tugged and contorted her body. The best she could do was tug the skirt around backwards so that the zip was now in front, rather than in the back. She began tugging on it in earnest, forgetting about her hair, makeup, or dinner.
As Daisy was struggling with her wardrobe, Tim arrived home. He opened the door of the flat and was greeted by the smell of smoke coming from the kitchen. He wandered into the kitchen to investigate, only to find a small fire burning on the stove. Trying not to panic, he filled a pitcher with water and poured it on the fire. He was horrified when the flames grew even higher. "Aaaarrgghhh!" he screamed.
The noise brought Daisy out of the bedroom. "What's going on?"
Tim turned from the stove and was greeted by a barefooted creature in a bizarre state of undress. Hair stuck out wildly from all sides of its head, and its face was a gruesome mix of bright, hideous colors. "Aaaarrggghhh!" he screamed again.
"Gimme that!" Daisy snatched the pitcher from Tim, filled it up with water, and tossed it on the fire.
"Aaaarrggghhh!" Daisy and Tim both screamed as the flames roared high above their heads.
The door burst open suddenly. Daisy and Tim's heads swiveled simultaneously toward the door and were confronted by a huge, masked figure dressed head-to-toe in a yellow hazmat suit and wielding a strange-looking weapon. Tim and Daisy screamed again as the figure pointed its weapon - - at the stove. The huge fire extinguisher did the trick, putting out the flames in an instant. Mouths open in awe, Tim and Daisy stared as the mysterious figure removed its helmet. "Mike!" they gasped in relief.
Mike saluted them and grinned. "Tim. Daisy."
"Why couldn't we put out the fire? We both poured water on it, but it only got worse!" Tim babbled.
"Grease fire, Timmy. Water makes it worse. You have to use salt or smother the flames. My work here is done." Mike saluted once again and left, closing the door behind him.
"What was that supposed to be?" Tim gestured toward the stove.
"Um, dinner?" Daisy offered.
"And what is this?" Tim gestured toward Daisy.
"Ah, Twist's idea . . . " Daisy left the explanation at that; it seemed to be sufficient for Tim, who merely nodded his head mutely.
"Pizza?" they both said simultaneously, reaching for the phone.
After a half-assed attempt at cleaning up the kitchen, Tim and Daisy sat side-by-side on the sofa, eating their pizza and sharing a bottle of wine. They didn't bother with glasses, but both swigged liberally from the bottle. Daisy had finally managed to get out of her tight clothes and was cozy in warm-ups and socks. Her hair and face were still a mess, and both she and Tim were smudged with soot and stank of smoke. Oddly enough, the soot actually improved Daisy's appearance, toning down the frightful colors that streaked her face.
They both reached for the wine bottle at the same time, then both snatched their hands back. They laughed, and Tim picked up the bottle and handed it to Daisy. "Here, Pickle."
"Thank you." Daisy's hand brushed Tim's as she took the bottle. Their eyes locked. Tim leaned forward. Daisy met him halfway. Their noses bumped. They knocked heads. They both kept leaning the same way. Still, as their lips finally touched for the first time, Daisy couldn't help thinking that it was the most perfect first kiss ever.