Writing Practice
Just felt like writing nonsense so here it is._______
"It's in the eyes. It says it all." I said casually with my mouth open as I continued to chew my sandwich. He took a break from eating his to absorb what I had just said. And as I glanced up to see his expression I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about. The look of "D'uhh, what?" was slapped all over his face. But then I guess that's why he's sitting here bothering me, preventing the enjoyment of this truly great tuna sandwich. I take one more glance at the tuna and think if I should take another bite, but that anxious look on his face shows that he's waiting on the edge of his seat for me to elaborate. "Look, you just got to see if she has the goo-goo eyes." I tell him.
"The what?" He asks quickly.
"The goo-goo eyes." I repeat. My hunger no longer patient forces me to consume one more bite. I no longer care about being polite and speak with a mouthful, "It's that look. When the eyes are all puppy dog-ish and she has that look on her face that says pass me the butter big boy!" I do a little motion of a growl with my face and make the noise "Rawr!" which I'm sure he got a glimpse of handfulls of tuna stuck all between my teeth. But I own him right now with what I'm saying so I know he won't do a witty insult.
In a confused, frantic speech he replies, "Well... but... what's that look? How will I know it when I see it???" His face so desperate for an answer, I hope he isn't this pathetic in front of her.
I fold the wrapper of my sandwich tightly back up, stand up and look at him one more time and chuckle. I put my hand on his shoulder and say "No worries man. The second she gets close enough to kiss you, she'll probably smell that stanky breath and wonder who took a shit down your throat."
The seriousness in his face turns quickly to a laugh held in, "You son of a bitch!" he returns instantly. "I guess that's what I get for asking advice from a guy who looks like he just ate out the little mermaid."
Ouch! Damn, that was a good comeback, I think to myself. "Haha... Well I'm out of here. Say hi to your left hand tonight. Because I know that's the only play you'll see this evening." I attempt one last comeback as I walk away hoping to come out on top.
"Up yours!" he replies. "You're wrong. I'm right-handed..."
posted by Ghetto FOBulous @ 8:09 PM
5 Comments:
Now craft this scene into a bigger story and I'll really be impressed, bonehead.
Maybe seeing how the advice turned out might be the ticket...
If I could do that, then I'd be the writer and you'd be the one living off the booze.
A sense of mild cliffhanger and a humour sprinkled at the right moment.
I want more !!!!!! ^_~
If I could live off of booze I'd have to come to your place everyday. I bet you just naturally sweat the stuff with the amount you've drunk in your life so it'd be free.
har har har...how's that for a fake laugh :P hahahah
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