Fleegle and Franny watch me make a sandwich for lunch. “The key is to get him to put so much mayonnaise on his sandwich that when he bites into the bread, the mayonnaise is squeezed out and drips onto the floor. Anything on the floor is ours,” Fleegle says. “Raud eats off of a plate, so think of the floor as our big plate.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “You do realize I can hear what you’re saying?”
“No you can’t. I was talking to her.”
“Oh, is that how it works?”
“Raud, focus, don’t let your petty anxieties distract you from your work,” Fleegle says, then begins to imitate the voice from one of my meditation CDs. “Listen to your Zen master and be one with your work. Apply the mayonnaise with long, even strokes of the butter knife. Actually, put the knife down and use a big soup spoon. Now switch hands and apply again. Feel the balance. Now pick up a second spoon and apply with both hands. Immerse yourself in the balance of dual handed mayonnaise application. Become one with your sandwich. Feel the mayonnaise flow across the bread like waves of creamy goodness.”
More like a mayo tsunami, I think.
Franny tilts her head to the side at Fleegle. “Why are you speaking so weird?”
“I’m telling him what his higher-self would tell him.”
“His higher-self must really like mayonnaise,” she says.
“Yes, but Raud doesn’t know that, he’s never met him.”