I Am Not Happening
"I'm just not hip. Any more." He added the any more, hoping that slipped in there and wouldn't receive a rebuff.
"Any more?" No such luck. She was a sharp one, all right.
"Sorry? Listen, this connection isn't great." He decided to take evasive maneuvers. "So anyway, what did you want, again?"
"What do you mean? I just called for a chat."
"Ah ha. That."
"Well, Jesus, you don't have to make it sound like you're picking up dirty diapers. We're just having a chat."
If he had owned a corded telephone he'd be completely and utterly bound up in the cord right about now, and would be able to spend the next few minutes on the phone disentangling himself from the cord and making the sort of noises you do when you're doing that into the receiver.
As it happened, he was on a cordless, and as much as he'd been turning, he wasn't tangled up in anything. "Isn't it weird how you can't get tangled up in a cordless phone?" he asked.
"What? Are you twirling around with the phone again? I thought that was a girl thing, at any rate. Are you still doing that?" He stopped.
"Well, no, not right now." He grasped for the nearest kitchen chair and slumped into it. And missed.
The phone, rather unfortunately, kept working after slamming off the corner of the table and down on to the floor and under the kitchen table. It rotated lazily on the linoleum.
"Hello? J---? What the hell just happened?"
He crawled towards the phone, which was nearing the end of its spinning. He watched it for a little bit, letting it wind all the way down. When it had stopped he picked it up again. "Umm, yeah, sorry about that. I, umm, fell."
"You fell? You had been spinning again, hadn't you? Jeez. You're one odd duck, sometimes, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." He looked up at the underside of the table. He wondered idly what the metal latches were for. Actually, he didn't wonder what they were for, he knew they were there in case you wanted to unhitch the two halves of the table and slide in a third piece of table to create a bigger table when you had company over. The last time he'd used the latches was two nights ago, in fact. He'd been entertaining (and he liked that phrase, as it made him feel good about himself, using it in conversation never drew questions or sarky comments – well, almost never) a few friends and opened up the table to accommodate everyone around the table. They wound up playing "War" the card game where you slap down the next card on the top of the stack on the top of someone else's and hope it has a higher value to let you win the battle. He liked this game because it required very little skill and/or interest in cards. He was reluctant to develop any sort of skills in card games in case it turned out he was Mormon, because he thought Mormons weren't allowed to partake in games of chance. He was pretty sure he wasn't Mormon, but, then, you can never really be certain about anything in life, he'd noticed. Well, not noticed, but read somewhere once.
"You still there?"
"Oh yeah, sorry. Still here. Under the table, in fact."
"Ah ha. I have to tell you, this is the oddest sex chat line I've ever called."
disclaimer:
We have no bananas today. Now. We had one earlier. And that is our protein for the day.
That and some beef. Apologies to PETA and all you vegans out there.
So. How you been?
The janitor's sister is out this week, visiting, taking the proverbial tour of the Sane Magazine offices. Well, not proverbial, really, she's taking the actual tour. Proverbs never dealt with anything like our offices.
Speaking of our offices, in the next few weeks, and possibly in our forums, you will be able to choose the name for our new offices! We'd tell you more, but, well, we're lazy this week. Maybe we'll get around to it next week.
In the meantime, enjoy the horoscopes and the issue, we have to go prevent the janitor's sister from accidentally sitting on our production server...
Discuss this in the forums
Discuss the horoscopes in the forums
Forum hosting provided by forumthing.