Ramona could barely contain her excitement on the journey home. While walking, while at the bus stop, while on the bus itself, she had the urge to open her palm and gaze upon the tiny Doctor Sheldon Cooper that she had. But each time there were others present, lesser minds who couldn’t appreciate her trophy. Painful though it was, she would have to wait until she was in the privacy of her own bedroom before unclenching her fist.
For his part, Sheldon was in Hell. A loathing of human contact was not something to suffer when enclosed on all sides by skin, flesh, bone, blood… Sweat. The longer he remained in that ungodly prison, the more his captor’s hands began to sweat, and now he was liberally soaked in her juices. When he got out of this situation, she would be the subject of some stern words indeed.
It may have seemed like hours when the fingers unfolded to allow light entry, but with his eidetic memory Sheldon was well aware that only thirty-seven and a half minutes had passed.
Ramona’s face hung disconcertingly close overhead, but it couldn’t be any worse than what he’d experienced for the last half hour. Wiping the back of a sleeve across his forehead, his other hand wagged a finger. “That’s two strikes, young lady.”
Even with it written large on the sky above him, Sheldon couldn’t quite place the emotion on Ramona’s face. Maybe she was grief-stricken, as well she should be for having forced him to endure such cramped quarters? He was just about to voice this conclusion when she spoke herself, her voice and damp breath drowning all counter-argument.
“You haven’t changed, have you? After all the help I gave you in developing the Cooper-Nowitzki Theorem, you kicked me out, and now this! Well… fine!”
The hand tilted, throwing Sheldon to a soft surface, expansive and white. A bed. Standing, he could look around and see where he was, a few Tyrannosaur-sized teddy-bears holding court at the far end.
Ramona stood to one side, looking down at the floor rather than at him. Shame? Her continued speech cleared matters up.
“You owe me. And if you’re not going to share the credit with me, then I guess you’re going to have to pay me back for every little thing I did!”
If Sheldon had thought being held in her hand was disgusting, he would have to re-asses his criteria for using that word. With one motion she brought her bare foot bouncing down before him, and the stench it gave off was enough to force him to his knees. “Dear lord…”
“Let’s start with the pedicure, shall we?” Ramona said, wiggling her toes at the diminutive physicist.
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