Trimming the Fat

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"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Trimming the fat," I responded.

"What do you mean?" she interrogated.

I didn't feel the need to answer her nosy question, so I just sat there, My back to her.

"What do you mean?" she repeated.

Again, I didn't feel the need to answer her nosy question, so I just sat there, My back to her.

I could feel her stare molest the wax-glossed region behind My ears, and violate the serenity in My shadow lair.

She began to cry, obviously for attention, but the malice that dwelled within Me found great pleasure in denying her that satisfaction. A discreet, reactionary smile formed on My face, as I continued to trim the fat, undisturbed.