“You tormented raccoon!” she said, floating off the kitchen floor.
“You rabid cockroach,” he responded, floating like a helium ballon to the ceiling light. He hung there in midair.
“Demonic feline,” she said rising and circling him.
“Diseased bat,” he called coming face-to-face to her by means of a soft arm flap.
Hovering together in the kitchen, they took hands and free fell giggling, in formation, to the floor. They bounced softly off the tile, and then tilting, they helicoptered into the front room.
They separated. She wafted over the table lamp and tossed off, “You psychopathic possum!”
From near the ceiling he chortled back, “Demented camel!”
She rose in the air to meet him, and eye-to-eye, in the cathedral vault they tickled each other, laughed hilariously, took each others hands again and tumbled softly from this great height onto the couch. Leaning back on the cushions, they moved closer together and watched some TV — with caramel popcorn, dark chocolate, lime bars, chai tea, warm blankets and fluffy cats on their laps and all around.
She reached over and ate some of the popcorn out of his bowl.
“Beastly beast!” he muttered.
“You wingless termite,” she reparteed.
“Thou field,” he turned to her, “thou stone, thou clod, thou summer dust thou!”
They both laughed. She touched his cheek, and then pulling up the blanket that covered their legs they settled in for the next show.