| Subject: Why, hullo thar. |
Author:
A GUY
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Date Posted: 13:24:25 11/02/04 Tue
In reply to:
JJ
's message, "Re: TO WHOEVER OWNS THIS BOARD, I AM SO SORRY." on 13:16:50 11/02/04 Tue
He was having troubles with his car. Alot of troubles. With an expression of blank furusteration on his face, the guy (for, that is what we shall call him) leaned against the hood of his car and crossed his arms, shook the hair in front of his eyes back into compliance and back around his cheeks, and tapped his fingers, irritably, against his elbow.
He left his keys in the car. He forgot them.
He was forgeting everything. Later, he'd go to remember that he'd forgotten to lock the door to his house, forgotten to feed the goldfish--again (and by again we mean by the third one that week)-- and, he forgot that yesterday, the thign had died while he was away. But, anyway.
Here he was, when this guy with a scythe comes walking down the sidewalk. perkign up a bit (maybe he could help him!) the freckled troubled one stood up, walked over, and opened his mouth to talk to him. " Hey buddy, you know a locksmith? Or a lockpick?" he squitned at the scythe. Damn, it was ugly. To him, anyway. "Could I borrow that?" he asked, thinkign that maybe he could use the tip to jimmy open the door to his car.
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