One week later…
Mushy Baby's Drift Country Bar and Restaurant now adds three desserts to its menu: The Future Cheesecake, the Hybrid Mango Smoothie Parfait, and the Heart-Shaped Melon Bread with Custard Filling.
Ever since the day of the implementation, people are now raving over social media on how delectable these three desserts are.
Felicia Wolfe, the head chef, deserves all the credit for this buzz.
In the next few days, a tall, black-haired man with a black eye patch, who identifies himself as George Gillan, catches wind of the buzz.
His sweet tooth senses are tingling; and thus, like clockwork, he tries out the Future Cheesecake.
"This is good. This is really, really good."
Whether by itself or drizzled with several syrups – chocolate, strawberry, whatever – he can taste the expertly-blended creaminess stemming from its basic ingredients.
"And I can taste a hint of a tarty flavor. Hmm… I wonder what the head chef put in there. Oh well, how will I know? This might likely be a trade secret."
George really can't get enough of the Future Cheesecake.
He now makes it an obligation to make his pilgrimage to Mushy Baby's Drift just to savor a slice of it alone.
And he hopes that in the foreseeable future, he will have the option to take home an entire pie's worth of that alone.
***
It's another ordinary July day.
We three are now feasting on beef rib-eye pepper steak, which was marinated in a combination of soy sauce and lemon overnight.
Since our apartment unit has large windows, we can easily deduce the current weather condition.
And right now, the skies are overcast.
The girls say in chorus, "It's gonna rain, isn't it?"
As someone who looks at the skies just to get the pulse of the weather at the moment, I can't help but nod in agreement with them.
And judging from their faces, they highly anticipate the downpour of raindrops from the sky.
I know Leigh, my girlfriend of five years, is fond of the rain; and so is Aurora?
Maybe I'll ask Aurora some minutes later of her fondness.
As for how our hometown's faring in terms of rainfall…
Last year, it rained much harder than normal, and the amount of rainfall amounted to 66 inches.
Leigh was more than delighted to know of this, as she loved to frolic on the lawn nearest the apartment we live in.
But now, she's sadly not availing of such luxury, as we three are still in the middle of our lunch when the drops of rain start to fall at last, creating a pattering on the glass windows.
Well… at least their endorphin levels will increase just seeing the rainfall alone.
We eventually finish our lunch, and after putting the used dishes and silverware on the kitchen sink, we all decide to watch the rainfall via the windows.
Such simple bliss is hard to beat.
Leigh told me once how she grew fond of the rain, and wasn't even bothered once by the inconveniences other people usually associate with it.
That was because her late grandfather once served in the 1st Weather Squadron of the United States Air Force.
He would tell her fantastic stories of weird weather phenomena that would hinder the movement of ground troops during combat operations.
One such story was that on the day a group of soldiers would assist local elite police forces in hunting down several notorious terrorists hiding in the corn fields of a foreign land, the formation of clouds was a chaotic mix of nimbostratus, cumulus, and stratocumulus clouds, which meant that rains and drizzles would come and go at different times.
Long story short: One hour came, and it was all sunshine. The next hour, there was a heavy downpour that lasted 15 minutes. The hour after that hour, it was all sunshine again. The hour after that hour after that hour, there was a drizzle that lasted for 30 minutes.
Good thing the operation was put off for the next day.
She also told me that whenever her grandpa was not involved in any combat operations, he would help in cloud-seeding operations on local farmlands that were in dire need of irrigation.
And because he was one of her favorite relatives, she was always full of endorphins whenever rain comes, since it always reminded her of him.
"Alright then," I then ask Aurora. "How'd you come to like the rain?"
"It's because of one song. About the rain. And it's not filled with sadness."
My voice then switches to one that detects suspicion.
"Wait a sec… you mean the one with the accursed saxophone in it?"
"Yes, that's it."
"Look, that 'laughter' you're talking about? That instrument alone should be reserved for the bedchambers!"
Leigh cuts in, "Yes, Aurora. My boyfriend here has quite the stance on saxophones, and I share his sentiment. These instruments should be off-limits to any kind of music… unless the music helps in stimulating the sensual side of things."
Aurora can't help but get all tense and stuff, knowing that her opinion on saxophones has been overturned by a country singer duo who swears never to use them in any kind of performance, whether live or recorded.
But to assuage her, we give her huge pats on each of her shoulders.
Leigh then follows it up with equally assuaging words… "But that's fine. By the way, care for some… cuppa?"
That last word she blurted out… yes, it has that distinct Scottish accent.
Is it any wonder that my girlfriend here is proud of her Scottish heritage?
Aurora just nods, indicating a yes.
Five minutes later, Leigh's back with three teacups. But where's the teapot?
She brings out a realistic-looking gun, which is a silver pistol with some decorative engravings as well as a thin barrel, cocks the gun dramatically, aims it at the teacup, pulls the trigger, and…
Out comes some wholesome herbal tea.
Wh-What?!
The silver pistol serves as the teapot?! What kind of sorcery is this?!
And she just whistles as she pours the tea into the teacup.
Maybe… just maybe…
That pistol teapot of yours is some rare Scottish invention?!