TAMPONS | PHAN

seven; may

m a y;

"Do you think animals understand each other when they talk?" asked Phil suddenly and Dan paused the video game they were playing as he turned to Phil.

"Um... yeah?" he said and when Phil gave him a blank look he sighed. "Well bees talk to one another through movements and dogs through barks and movements. Did you seriously not know that?" he laughed and Phil rolled his eyes.

"I knew that. But that wasn't what I meant," he said and Dan nodded indicating for him to continue. "I meant do bees and dogs understand each other? Do kittens and mice?" he asked.

"I wouldn't think so. I mean humans can understand one another because we are all the same species. Same thing would go for dogs, and cats and bees. They don't necessarily understand us but rather learn tones of voice and movements in the case of dogs and some other mammals but– "

"Boys! Dinner is ready!" called Dan's Dad from the kitchen, cutting off Dan's speech. Dan clicked off the television and placed their controllers on the couch so they wouldn't be accidentally stepped on, before leading Phil to his red-themed kitchen.

"I wasn't expecting such an elaborate answer," joked Phil as he followed behind Dan.

"I'm rather fascinated with biology. The human mind and all that jazz. Though I suppose that would be neuroscience..." Dan trailed off as he indicated for Phil to take a seat at their small wooden table.

"This looks amazing Mr. Howell!" exclaimed Phil as a steaming plate of pasta was placed in front of him.

"Call me Greg," said Dan's Dad, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He had gotten a kick out of the fact that Phil was already an adult, who was living alone and yet had come to Dan's for a sleepover.

"Well this looks fantastic Greg" said Phil grinning at the large heap in front of him.

"Thanks Dad" chimed in Dan, twirling his fork around in the noodles as he picked up a mouthful.

"Dan loves pasta. Did he ever tell you about the time we went out for pasta when he was two?" asked Dan's Dad and Dan groaned knowing exactly which story he was about to tell.

"Dad" he said warningly but his Dad pretended cheerfully not to hear his complaints.

"I'm sure Phil wants to hear this," he said looking towards Phil who was grinning mischievously.

"Oh please do tell!" he exclaimed and Dan's Dad shot Dan an I told you so look, laughing along with Phil as Dan's cheeks turned pink in anticipation of the embarrassment that was to be foretold.

"When Dan was two years old," started Dan's Dad. "We took him out to our favourite Italian restaurant not far from here, Lingui's, is what it's called."

"I think I've been there before," said Phil.

"Well anyways we were celebrating my job promotion at the time. We ordered Dan some spag bol – spaghetti bolognaise –which was messy but his favourite meal at the time. Everything went smoothly until the waiter came to refill our drinks," said Dan's Dad and Dan groaned softly knowing what was to come next. Phil on the other hand, was listening attentively.

"Of course Dan was just learning how to use a fork. C-Cynthia and I... we tried our best to help. But toddlers... they can be messy and his hands were completely covered in tomato sauce," he said wistfully. Dan and Phil both smiled pretending not to notice how Dan's Dad stammered over his mum's name.

"So when the waiter came, she refilled our waters and the next thing you know as she was walking away she let out a little yelp. Suddenly, she was bearing down on our table like a mad man, staring daggers at me. I was, of course, confused. Then she goes: 'Did you slap my butt, sir?' I was taken aback, because I had done no such thing. But half the restaurant was staring at me by now as well as my wife. So I go: 'No. I did not.' She stalks back behind the counter to go talk to her manager or something, when I see a child-sized spaghetti sauce- handprint on the back of her uniform," continued Dan's Dad and Phil giggled.