[A little Chemical Billy experiment. Feel free to jump in; the water's warm.—Suzanne]
I get up to the door and knock. And wouldn't you know it, but now he's not making a sound, like I'm a jay-dub and he's just waiting, praying for me to leave before he goes back to his stompin' trompin' drum-circle frenzy. I knock again and lean my face into the crack of the doorjamb and say, 'cause I want him to know I know, so we all know, "Uh, sorry to disturb you, man, but I've got some guests over and, well, could you keep it down?" I rap on his door again.
I wait for a minute or two. Still no sound inside, so I shout through the closed door, "Thanks, man! Appreciate it."
I open the door to my own apartment softly, and Mara's still there, though now she's draped herself over the arm of the couch. Her now-bare feet are up on the cushions beside her, but she's looking so good, so hot, I don't say anything about that, just smile and sweep her long brown hair away from her neck with my hand, kiss her on the neck where it blends into her shoulder.
"Another glass of wine?"
[Click here to continue the story...]
[...and here...]
[and if you want a little tangent on that sandwich, click here]
4 comments:
Jay-dub jay-dub jay-dub! I thought Mormons were the only ones to call them that...
Thanks, Suzanne. I managed not to turn the story into one about somebody clubbing another to death with a wine bottle.
Against my best intentions, no less!
Hello Suzanne,
I got here from Chemical Billy's site. I took the reins from King Mondo and dragged the cart along for a while. I hope you find it fitting/fun/not too horrific. Feel free to stop by and see what's going on with Ballerino at http://lypscratch.blogspot.com/
Thx for creating such a solid foundation.
LyP
Back when you wrote this, I wrote a follow-up, but I was too slow to post it, and Mongo wrote his, and then Scratch, so that's clearly the main branch, but I finally posted my little narrative appendix here...
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