In which I all but dare karma to bite me in the ass
The scene: an apartment in Harlem, NYC. Our protagonist is pacing and talking to himself out loud, as he is wont to do.
Flint: The food poisoning is way too heavy, definitely can't use the food poisioning. [Shakes head in frustration and then heads resolutely to the bathroom, flushes and then sits down right outside the door, picks phone up annd dials the already lit up number.]
Flint: Hello? Brazilian. Hey, how are you?
Brazilian: I'm good, went to the Empire state building today, finally doing all these tourist things before I leave. I went shopping afterwards and I'm home now. How are you?
Flint: Err, I've had better days.
Brazilian: Oh? Are you okay?
Flint: I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. I had dinner with a friend in some random place last night and it really didn't agree with me. Spent the day hugging the bathroom
Brazilian: Oh, that sucks. Do you need anything.
Flint: No, I'll be alright. I'm drinking seltzer and holding on. But I really can't do anything tonight. How about we see each other on Sunday or something?
Brazilian: Ok, that's fine. If you need anything, give me a call.
Flint:Thanks, you're too sweet. Take care.
Brazilian: Beijos, bye.
End Scene.
Right then, back to watching the Sopranos and stuffing my face with pizza, as one does when they're in a funk the night before their birthday (which the Brazilian has not been told about or invited to join in since the whole relationship is slightly dodgy and under wraps). Yes, I am aware that my soul is in dire danger here, but hey. If you're going to make an excuse for ducking out at the very last moment on a friggin Friday night, it'd better be really good. Now I have to invent an entire scenario involving some strange ethnic food consumed in some less than ideal locale of the city, kept deliberately vague so as not to hurt any real and existing business, etc. Sigh. This is the second time I've used food poisoning. The first tim was when I wanted a day off work so I could read some novel (Jonathan Strange and Dr. Norrell?) that was rocking my world. I'm anticipating that karma will catch up with me somewhere 15,000 miles above sea level on a flight where I'm sitting next to some pretty girl who won't understand why my stomach sounds like a demented three penny opera and my general area smells like something Ozzy regurgitated.
Flint: The food poisoning is way too heavy, definitely can't use the food poisioning. [Shakes head in frustration and then heads resolutely to the bathroom, flushes and then sits down right outside the door, picks phone up annd dials the already lit up number.]
Flint: Hello? Brazilian. Hey, how are you?
Brazilian: I'm good, went to the Empire state building today, finally doing all these tourist things before I leave. I went shopping afterwards and I'm home now. How are you?
Flint: Err, I've had better days.
Brazilian: Oh? Are you okay?
Flint: I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. I had dinner with a friend in some random place last night and it really didn't agree with me. Spent the day hugging the bathroom
Brazilian: Oh, that sucks. Do you need anything.
Flint: No, I'll be alright. I'm drinking seltzer and holding on. But I really can't do anything tonight. How about we see each other on Sunday or something?
Brazilian: Ok, that's fine. If you need anything, give me a call.
Flint:Thanks, you're too sweet. Take care.
Brazilian: Beijos, bye.
End Scene.
Right then, back to watching the Sopranos and stuffing my face with pizza, as one does when they're in a funk the night before their birthday (which the Brazilian has not been told about or invited to join in since the whole relationship is slightly dodgy and under wraps). Yes, I am aware that my soul is in dire danger here, but hey. If you're going to make an excuse for ducking out at the very last moment on a friggin Friday night, it'd better be really good. Now I have to invent an entire scenario involving some strange ethnic food consumed in some less than ideal locale of the city, kept deliberately vague so as not to hurt any real and existing business, etc. Sigh. This is the second time I've used food poisoning. The first tim was when I wanted a day off work so I could read some novel (Jonathan Strange and Dr. Norrell?) that was rocking my world. I'm anticipating that karma will catch up with me somewhere 15,000 miles above sea level on a flight where I'm sitting next to some pretty girl who won't understand why my stomach sounds like a demented three penny opera and my general area smells like something Ozzy regurgitated.
posted by Flint at 5:35 PM
1 Comments:
I know, I know. I'm not superstitious, but I'm truly scared actually.
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