Page 35 - Lulu and Bob in Verbo City

Just as she was about to reach for her card, Lulu heard her
stomach growling loudly. Clamping down both embarrassment and
hunger, she also resisted the absurdly hilarious notion that her
twisting abdominal organs were essaying a ventral locution in
competition with her oral presentation. I—will—not—laugh. She
turned over the card.
“Beth bet both bats bought baths. Beth bet both bats bought
baths. Beth bet both bats bought baths.”

Dismayed by his niece’s sang-froid, Bunster switched his attention
to his nephew. How to discompose Bob? The boy seemed entranced,
oblivious to external stimuli. That betokened a fear—or at least
awareness, on his part—of losing control. Still fancying himself a
child psychologist, Bunster determined to break the lad’s self-
imposed sensory isolation. The ears cannot be averted. He put his left
hand under the table.
“Sushi sous-chef. Sushi sous-chef. Sushi sous-chef.” And then the
cunning geezer contrived to produce a barely audible rhythmic
scratching with his fingernails directly beneath his pile of upturned
cards.
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