One Spoonful of Trouble (Felicity Bell Book 1) by Nic Saint Read Free Book Online

“Do you keep a diary Rick?”
    “No,” he admitted. “Can’t say that I do. Though I do from time to time submit my personal views on such things as the weather, the state of the world, or womanhood to my blog.” He shrugged. “I find it very liberating.”
    “And what are your views on womanhood?”
    He had the distinct impression that the atmosphere in the room was getting frostier by the second in spite of the oven emitting a steady stream of hot, delicious, air. “Ah, well, I must say I haven’t formulated a definitive opinion yet, apart from a few random thoughts on the subject.”
    “Please enlighten me. What are your random thoughts?”
    A warning bell sounded at the back of his mind. He quickly dismissed it. His reporter’s blood had been stirred. He loved discussing his favorite topics at length. “Well, first I’d like to state clearly that I have nothing whatsoever against the modern girl.”
    “Duly noted,” she said sweetly. She’d placed her chin on her hands and was gazing at him like a cat about to devour a mouse.
    “That said, I do think that things have gotten out of hand.”
    “Is that right?”
    “The pendulum of history often overbalances before settling at some form of equilibrium, and in the case of the modern girl I feel this is what has happened.”
    “For instance?”
    “Well, take karaoke.”
    She lifted an eyebrow. “Karaoke? What do you mean, karaoke?”
    “It’s this thing where people climb up on stage and make total fools of themselves by pretending to be Taylor Swift or Freddie Mercury or—”
    “I know what karaoke is. What I don’t understand is what it has to do with your views on the modern girl.”
    He sighed. He’d explained himself on the subject many times. Mostly in bars. To colleagues. Under the influence of alcohol. Now he would have to do it without the aid of alcohol, to an audience that was, if his sixth sense wasn’t fooling him, notably hostile.
    Still, he decided to give it his best shot.
    He picked up a fork and placed it next to a spoon. “Imagine this is a woman,” he said, pointing to the spoon, “and this—” He gestured to the fork, “a man. Now suppose that the man went into a karaoke bar and start singing Voulez-Vous .” He held up the fork and wiggled it a bit. “Now suppose a woman entered the bar and watched the man massacre that timeless ABBA classic.”
    “I can just see it before me,” Felicity said dryly.
    “Well, how do you think a woman would have reacted in the old days? She would have jumped to the man’s defense and clapped her hands, ignoring the man’s obvious lack of talent, even if the rest of the room was ruthlessly mocking him. Now take the modern girl. Not only would she hiss and boo and laugh her ass off at the sucker on stage, she would probably record his performance on her smartphone, post it on the internet, take the thing viral and turn the man into the laughing stock of the whole wide world.”
    Felicity was frowning. “So what you’re saying is that the modern girl, instead of boosting a man’s ego, takes him down a peg and teaches him some humility?”
    “No, what I’m saying is that woman, through her gentle nature, is well equipped to assuage the bruised soul but that modern age has turned her heart to stone and her soul to ice.”
    “I think you’re cuckoo. Just because she doesn’t like his singing doesn’t mean she has a heart of stone.”
    “Well, I beg to differ.”
    “Tough luck.”
    “See? That’s exactly what I mean. A fellow can’t catch a break.”
    “Really Rick, you can’t expect a girl to be a doormat. Those days are over. If a guy can’t sing, we give it to him straight. And if he can’t take it, tough luck.”
    His lips thinned. It was exactly as he had feared. “There’s entirely too much cruelty in the world, Felicity. All I ask is a little kindness. A little humanity. A little sweetness and light.”
    “If sweetness and light means women have to suffer fools