Angie's Mischief 🎭

Chapter 19

How would you describe my situation rn in King James version??

"Karma findeth all ye with wicked intentions. Verily verily I say unto you, it is done."

Angela Fox 🥵

Metaphor crickets.

I had suddenly gone very pale.

   "W-what?" I proposed with an uneasy chuckle, looking him up to down. What he say?

  "I want to dine with you today," Kenny asserted and tapped the seat beside him, "come."

One bloody minute.

Two.

Three.

I hadn't moved an inch, I was rooted at my spot like the biblical Lot's wife after she looked back. Kenny beckoned me over with his eyes but seeing it clearly wasn't working, stood up himself and guided me towards the dining table.

Only then, did I finally come into terms with what was happening. He was inviting me to eat poison!

My head shook left to right at its own accord, pulling my wrist out of his grasp.  "No, no! It is not possible!"

   "With God all things are possible, why you looking like you've seen a ghost?" A low chuckle reverberated from him as he tightened his hold and cajoled me to sit.

  "No sir!–"

"What? You don't want to dine with me?"

"Me– uh," I stammered, wanting to come up with one good excuse that won't make him suspicious. "In. . .in me village, servants are not allowed to eat on the same table as their masters!" I reasoned exasperatedly while sweat broke on my forehead.

   "I see," Ken enthused, an evident glint in his eyes as he observed me, "don't worry, it's fine. We can pretend we're equals for now."

   "But pretense is a sin!"

"In your religion?" He asked absentmindedly, forcing me down to the chair despite my protests. Jeezus this ain't happening! Heck, why didn't I allow Greta come serve?

"I'm only inviting you to eat food not to eat you," Kenny Brown said, pushing the chair forward so I was wedged between the table and him, "but your facial expressions... why, something wrong with the food?"

I quickly gulped, meeting his narrowed gaze, "Ow! N– no, the food is very perfect. Why wills you ask that?"

  "I don't know," he lightly shrugged, taking the seat right in front of me, "you keep glancing at it like it will blow up any moment from now."

  Oops. I covered up, pinching my brows together to give him a contrasting look. "Ah! How can this blow up, is it a bomb? You cannot be serious sir. Me is actually very very over the moon that you invite me to your food."

"Oh then you have a unique way of showing your excitement."

   "I do? Ahem– sir, do you know the number of people that kill to eat what me cook? Do you know?! Eh, me dare you to try my lasagna, try it and thank me later. Go on!"  If you hadn't caught on already, I was trying to extricate myself from the tight spot I was in.

Kenny drew the plate forward to my delight, adding more lasagna and sauce to it. Eh, all that self hype did some perking up on his appetite!
My sense of relief was short-lived; instead of digging in right away and shoving the meal down his damn oesophagus where they rightly belonged, Kenny Brown pushed the heaped plate before me, handing me a fork.