Sunday, February 18, 2007

Making plans....

The scene: My bedroom, candles lit, drink in hand. Phone rings. I trundle through the debris and search it out beneath my lumberjack jacket, and beside the two week's worth of clothing I've shoved into the corner by the dresser. It's Terri. I settle in for a chat.

T: I thought you were coming home this weekend? And how come no one is answering the phone at your parents house? I thought you people made it your goal to spend every waking minute on the Internet. And I thought if you weren't on the Internet, you were sitting in the kitchen waiting for people to call?

A: I dunno. Maybe they're sleeping?

T: Since when do they sleep at normal sleeping hours in that house?

A: This is true. Should I freak out, have a panic attack, and rip out all my hair?

T: Only if you want to end up looking like Britney Spears.

A: Oh, come on now. That was mean!

T: I live to be mean. So how come you're not home?

A: Oh, Mal and I are coming back on Sunday morning, we're staying till Wednesday. She wants to learn how to shoot some shit, so Davey said he'd come buy with some extra firearms so he can show her some neat ones.

T: You guys and your shootin' shit.

A: Meh, just clay pidgeons. It fun to say 'shootin' shit' in place of 'shooting at moving clay targets because it offends all the vegetarians when you talk about it out loud in public. I'm real feeling like that. Hey, Davey also said he might be taking us bar-hopping in the Sticks.

T: Oh, you mean to that nice bar?

A: Pfffft. Where's the fun in that? We're going to the classiest joints around.

T: Oh, God, Amanda. You can't do that. You'll terrify her and probably get yoruself killed!

A: Meh, no biggie. It's not like we're going to dress up or anything. Not like going to bars in the big city.

T: As long as you're sure.

A: Well, it's not like we're going to make ourselves stand out or any--

T: You have all your teeth. That's going to tip them off right there. You'll walk in, and everyone in there will think, My GOD. Women with TEETH. And they'll all want your lucky teeth-carrying genes to go on to the next generation, and they'll all try and hit on you and DEAR GOD! What if they sit near you? You know that the people in that bar don't wash frequently. *Shivers*

A: Well, I was a little worried about the teeth thing, but perhaps we'll eat a lot of purple popscicles before we go. That way we'll still have teeth, but they'll look sort of black-ish.

T: Oh, for God's sake, Listen to yourself. These people know freshly-colored teeth from teeth colored by a lifetime of chew and beer. What if you wear clean clothes? What then, Huh? You'll walk in there smelling like laundry detergent AND THEN THEY WILL KNOW. They'll know you're an outsider, and know that your friend is from the city, and you'll get mobbed like Britney Spears getting a new tattoo with no body guards.

A: And if they mob us and kill us based on the fact that we have teeth and laundry detergent? I'M LEAVING MY CAT TO YOU. As punishement. Because that's what I do to people who try to thwart my plans with reality. I threaten to punish them with the presence of felines they don't really want.


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