Thoughts of his hands spin me into the memory of last night. I’m going to take him home. He is sitting a caddy-corner from me. I move my c...air so that I can press my body up against him. I bring my lips to his ear, stroking his hand lightly, and saying, “Come home with me tonight.” I see fire in his eyes as he studies mine carefully, possibly gauging what he can get away with. Or how serious I am. I whisper in his ear, “Not messing with you. Come home with me.” “Do. .I quickened my pace but ears all a-listening...As I got to the clearing..he was standing there...waiting..looking at me...no words spoken..just this cheeky grin on his rugged face...The day was warm...sun beating down...and this..this man blocking my path..I smiled to myself as all I then thought about was the woodcutter in the fairy tale "Little Red Riding Hood"..He mistook that smile for something else...as he moved toward me and grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back he gave. Then, after a few moments, as if a switch had been flicked, she'd refocus on Betty and the pair of them would shuffle forward towards their next undefined destination.It was all quite perplexing.I mulled and after a couple of days I reached a conclusion; probably wrong, probably a reflection of my own slightly twisted mind, definitely based on what I wanted to be happening rather than any over-riding and compelling evidence. I decided that each and every time Betty squatted down to pee Beth. It was brilliant. It was weird.The medieval juxtaposed with the modern made it clear that Micah crafted some sort of allegory. Though thick and obscure, it made sense. The tale spoke of vengeance, of doing battle, good against evil, and, most remarkably of love. The love story involved two men. Essentially luring away love using two forces. The dragon and its lair full of gold tempted. The second lure was more difficult to describe, a sort of longing for and creating a place to be absent from.