"I really wish we didn't have to do this," Bo grunted as he slowly heaved his generous frame onto the motorized cart Tom Jones had brought to him at the edge of the parking lot, where the bus had let them off. By the time the young monk was settled in his seat, Tom was already a good fifteen yards ahead of him, gleefully pushing a regular cart in a serpentine pattern, narrowly missing a parked brown sedan after trying to challenge a twelve-year-old to a backwards shopping cart race.
Once within the unholy depths of Wal-mart, Bo managed to gather all of the items on the list before he ran into Tom again. He found him in the pets section, having what looked to be a heated debate with the fish, about the welfare system. The fish appeared to remain unconvinced. Actually, to be fair, the fish didn't seem to understand what was happening at all, or why random items were being thrown into their tanks as "visual aids".
"Tom, I've got the ... ingredie--items. Let's go - leave that cart there, we can't afford - and definitely don't need - all of that stuff." Tom's cart was filled nearly to overflowing with women's plus-sized jogging suits, children's novelty sunglasses, two magic 8 balls, a couch cushion from a piece of display furniture, various and sundry office supplies, three Toblerones and a Hanson cd. "Except for the chocolate, grab those." Bo added.
The pair nearly got thrown out when Tom Jones kept trying to get a price on his chest at the self check-out, but the boy managed to distract him by claiming to have seen a doo-wop group in the parking lot. Bo was disturbed beyond words when he exited the store to find Tom singing with a couple of homeless gentlemen.
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"Do you think this will work?" Tom asked, squatting in front of the box as he dumped the yogurt in. Bo was still a bit tender from his recent surgeries as well as exhausted from their shopping trip, so he was just observing the experiment from his perch atop the bed. "I ... nothing surprises me anymore." Bo replied, shaking his head.
Tom continued adding ingredients, one after another, until everything on the list was inside the box, and the crotch of his pants was splattered liberally with yogurt, milk, ice cream and egg. "I think I might have added the block of cheddar last, Bo." Tom mused. The boy squeeked painfully in reply, stiffling a guffaw. "Close the box, Tom." Bo ordered. Tom Jones dutifully closed the box. "Now open it!" Bo said breathlessly. Tom lifted the lid and peered inside.
"Well? What do you see?" the young monk asked impatiently.
The deeply tanned crooner began to sing, "Up north where the snow grows colder, I travel onward 'cross the border--"
"Christmas cake!" Bo interrupted. "What the freshly-washed handkerchief are you babbling about this time?"
"It's quite simple, my dear boy," Tom replied, gesturing toward the box, "your precious missing jar is in...
4 comments:
Blogspot was completely down last night, which caused me absolute fits, as I can't really do any writing for my Sims story when my kids are awake. As soon as they went to sleep and I was finally able to devote my concentration to it, Blogspot crapped out, for the duration.
Anyway, here's this.
Also, I had to change the comment format to pop-up, because blogspot is a piece of shit and was refusing to recognize that I was actually signed in. This was the only way it would allow me to comment. Pieces of fucking excrement.
Let's see ... I posted this Thursday afternoon, here it is Friday night and according to the stats and the fact that nobody has commented on my part of the story to tell me how great it is, I'll have no other choice but to believe that no one has bothered to read it yet.
What I need to know now is if it's too early to go find Darryl on Facebook and start yelling at him to read what I've written here, like he did to me less than 20 hours after his part had been posted. Or does that not work the other way around?
I don't know what the rules are. We should come up with some sort of rules, procedure, guidelines. I work best when I have a framework for how to handle my tantrums because no one heaping praise and attention on me for something I wrote and turned in on time.
Anyway, let me know. <3
First of all, <3 you too, my dear Nico.
Second of all, I did read it but I was so appalled by the pop-up comment system that I had to spend days drinking excessive amounts of water in order to propagate crocodile tears of sufficient size for my distress.
Third of all, even through the flagrant darryl-bashing contained within your comment, I can quite legitimately tell you that your part of the story was beautifully written to exacting Nico standards that we come to expect. Bravo.
Do you still have that headache?
Uno) No you DON'T!
Dos) Blame Blogspot for the new pop-up comments, since the old type of comments aren't working for a lot of people.
Tres) It's not so much a bashing as it is a vigorous, painful massaging that you kind of deserved for demanding my attention, then depriving me of yours.
I'm not sure if I still have a headache. I'll have to think about it.
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