Biscuits from Grace (Otherwise Untitled)
#74 of Short Stories
A jackalope and fox calmly work towards finishing breakfast while on a road trip.
~ Greg leaned back into the bench seat of the diner, his patience extended towards watching the sun rise from below the treeline across the patch of prairie. He glanced to his plate, well established to be empty, and over to Linda's. The jackalope, antlers currently concealed beneath magic, still had a sizable chunk of biscuit underneath a blanket of white gravy. Passing the time somewhat, the fox inquired of Linda, "How's the biscuit and gravy?"
~ Linda's fork paused in mid air, a glop of gravy dropping to the plate. His jaw shifted to the left, as it did when he was considering, "Well, the biscuit is from frozen." A soft 'pah!' noise under his breath, "But the gravy is from scratch." The jackalope smiled softly, "So that much is going well for it.", as he leaned back into his own booth to recollect.
~ The fox took a drink from his water, ears perking for the expected tale to follow. Linda promptly began, "Back up in the mountains, there was this ferret I ran with when we were in the mines." He shook his fork for a bit of emphasis, motioning over the gravy left on the plate, "He could fix up a gravy so fine that to bow the mountains down in sorrow when they saw your plate clean.", the jackalope grinning wide.
~ Greg chuckled a bit, "And this gravy, right here?"
~ Linda shrugged, "It's alright, though I'd say the lack of slag dust counts as cheating."