Ivy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ivybgreenflower) wrote2004-04-13 10:09 pm
ivybgreenflower) wrote2004-04-13 10:09 pm
I can't think of a title. Sue me.
Just chalk it up to Lennon/McCartney.
I'll get right to writing now.
"I want to go home."
"Don't be silly, we just got here."
"It seems like we've been here for ages."
"No, seriously, we just got here. We didn't even order yet."
"...Oh."
Samara didn't want to be here, but here she was. And it was almost as if Someone Upstairs had it in for her- like it was some kind of comedy, where it was all set up. Well, at least then the actors got to go home at the end of the day. They had to sit in a booth, and of course he and Alicia sat across from her. She was stuck staring at them. At least from this angle she could easily lodge her spoon in between his ribs.
That bi... banana stole my hairstyle, she thought. Well, it couldn't be that hard to blow dry hair straight and spritz it with hairspray, but, for the millionth time, that was besides the point. Samara didn't like looking at Alicia. It was like looking in a mirror, but one of those fun house mirrors. Samara had naturally long, thick black hair; so did Alicia and darned was she if there was an inch difference in the lengths. They both had stunning blue eyes and the kind of fairy-tale light skin seen on Cinderella. But while Samara had picked out a modest black skirt and white top with red heels, Alicia had decked herself out in a purple top with a plunging neckline and matching skirt with a slit up the side. Samara had to bite her tounge from telling Alicia that her underwear was showing, or her bra; because it was quite possible that before this lunch was over, something would show, unless she'd held it all together with duct tape. Which seemed like something she would do, although Samara didn't know her at all.
The time creeped by as slowly as possible, but far from being relieved when the lunch was over, she was even more horrified at what happened next.
"Alicia just loves a good cup of coffee, right, honey?"
"Right, snugglebunny."
"Well, Sam works in a coffee shop just around the corner."
"We should go there."
"I agree."
And so it was decided. Since Samara didn't have a ride home and not enough money for a taxi, she was roped into going.
When they got there, Samara's friend Vicki was working her shift and Samara made a beeline for the counter.
"Who's the new chick with your ex?"
"His new girlfriend."
"I hope she knows that if she stands on a street corner tonight, she could get a lot of money."
"I'm sure she does."
"He's got some nerve, bringing her in here with you..."
"Tell me about it. But I can't do anything about it, can I? Unless... could you do me a favor?"
"No. I am not dropping hot chocolate in her lap."
"Honestly, do you really think that's what I was going to... I was only going to ask for a sticky bun."
"Still no."
"Jelly doughnut?"
"Negative."
"Ice cream?"
"No go, sista'."
"A sugar packet?"
"Stop acting desperate, Sam."
Vicki gave Samara little apologetic glances, but they didn't make matters any easier.
The icing on the cake of hatred was when he dropped her off and suggested they come inside.
"No, really, the house is a mess."
"Looks fine to me-"
"Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving. We'll have to do it again sometime really soon, definitely, Ihadalovelytimeokbye."
She closed the door in his face and threw her shoe at it.
She'd plugged the record player back in for some wacky reason, and at that moment "Besame Mucho" began to play the most depressing line ever, "If you should leave me,then each little dream would take wings and my life would be through."
She threw her other shoe at it and succeded only in raising the volume.
Depressed by the fact that she wasn't wearing any more shoes, and afraid the speakers might explode, she strode over to the record player and ripped the cord out again, this time yanking it out of the player itself. She threw it across the room in frustration and ran into her bathroom to clean the mascara off of her cheeks and get a tissue.
How do you do what you do to me? I wish I knew. If I knew how do it to me, I'd do it to you.
Ivyette @ 10:13ish PM
I'll get right to writing now.
"I want to go home."
"Don't be silly, we just got here."
"It seems like we've been here for ages."
"No, seriously, we just got here. We didn't even order yet."
"...Oh."
Samara didn't want to be here, but here she was. And it was almost as if Someone Upstairs had it in for her- like it was some kind of comedy, where it was all set up. Well, at least then the actors got to go home at the end of the day. They had to sit in a booth, and of course he and Alicia sat across from her. She was stuck staring at them. At least from this angle she could easily lodge her spoon in between his ribs.
That bi... banana stole my hairstyle, she thought. Well, it couldn't be that hard to blow dry hair straight and spritz it with hairspray, but, for the millionth time, that was besides the point. Samara didn't like looking at Alicia. It was like looking in a mirror, but one of those fun house mirrors. Samara had naturally long, thick black hair; so did Alicia and darned was she if there was an inch difference in the lengths. They both had stunning blue eyes and the kind of fairy-tale light skin seen on Cinderella. But while Samara had picked out a modest black skirt and white top with red heels, Alicia had decked herself out in a purple top with a plunging neckline and matching skirt with a slit up the side. Samara had to bite her tounge from telling Alicia that her underwear was showing, or her bra; because it was quite possible that before this lunch was over, something would show, unless she'd held it all together with duct tape. Which seemed like something she would do, although Samara didn't know her at all.
The time creeped by as slowly as possible, but far from being relieved when the lunch was over, she was even more horrified at what happened next.
"Alicia just loves a good cup of coffee, right, honey?"
"Right, snugglebunny."
"Well, Sam works in a coffee shop just around the corner."
"We should go there."
"I agree."
And so it was decided. Since Samara didn't have a ride home and not enough money for a taxi, she was roped into going.
When they got there, Samara's friend Vicki was working her shift and Samara made a beeline for the counter.
"Who's the new chick with your ex?"
"His new girlfriend."
"I hope she knows that if she stands on a street corner tonight, she could get a lot of money."
"I'm sure she does."
"He's got some nerve, bringing her in here with you..."
"Tell me about it. But I can't do anything about it, can I? Unless... could you do me a favor?"
"No. I am not dropping hot chocolate in her lap."
"Honestly, do you really think that's what I was going to... I was only going to ask for a sticky bun."
"Still no."
"Jelly doughnut?"
"Negative."
"Ice cream?"
"No go, sista'."
"A sugar packet?"
"Stop acting desperate, Sam."
Vicki gave Samara little apologetic glances, but they didn't make matters any easier.
The icing on the cake of hatred was when he dropped her off and suggested they come inside.
"No, really, the house is a mess."
"Looks fine to me-"
"Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving. We'll have to do it again sometime really soon, definitely, Ihadalovelytimeokbye."
She closed the door in his face and threw her shoe at it.
She'd plugged the record player back in for some wacky reason, and at that moment "Besame Mucho" began to play the most depressing line ever, "If you should leave me,then each little dream would take wings and my life would be through."
She threw her other shoe at it and succeded only in raising the volume.
Depressed by the fact that she wasn't wearing any more shoes, and afraid the speakers might explode, she strode over to the record player and ripped the cord out again, this time yanking it out of the player itself. She threw it across the room in frustration and ran into her bathroom to clean the mascara off of her cheeks and get a tissue.
How do you do what you do to me? I wish I knew. If I knew how do it to me, I'd do it to you.
Ivyette @ 10:13ish PM
no subject
Now I feel like writing...hahahaha! like that'll ever happen.
no subject
If you do write, gimmegimmegimme because I want to read. :)
Ivyette
no subject
It's random thoughts of mine provoked by song lyrics.
no subject
Ivyette
no subject
no subject
Ivyette
no subject
Her good-bye line reminded me of kthnkxdie.
no subject
And yeah, I guess that was kind of the point. I like to run words together like that because it reminds me of the way real people talk.
Ivyette