Post by Johnny Reb on Nov 16, 2009 12:34:31 GMT -5
Monday afternoon. Lunchtime. Inside a generic casual dining establishment – the kind where they have signs and random junk on the walls, giving the whole place the atmosphere of a garage sale – Johnny Reb and Doc Henry sit at a bistro table in the bar. The restaurant is crowded with businesspeople on their lunch breaks, all absorbed in their own conversations, all checking their watches every few minutes for fear that they might be late returning to their offices.
A waiter stands at their table, listening to Johnny explain something as he signs an autograph for the guy, while Doc looks on with a bemused expression.
Johnny: …and that is what’s referred to as a “Birmingham Booty Call” …
The waiter looks a little green, as if Reb’s sordid account might make him ill at any moment. He thanks the Inveterate Confederate for the autograph, then hastens away, promising to bring the check in a few moments. Johnny grins roguishly.
Doc: Jesus, Johnny. Why you gotta tell people things like that?
Reb shrugs.
Johnny: ‘Cause they believe it… Anyway, like I was sayin’, I went back home Tuesday afternoon. The place looked so empty.
Doc: She took everything?
Reb shakes his head.
Johnny: No, not everything. I mean, all my stuff is still there. But her clothes, everything she was stashin’ in the bathroom, even all the girly decorative stuff. There’s not a speck of potpourri or an accent pillow anywhere. She even took the rug…
Doc: To be honest, Johnny… it sounds like you’re better off…
Johnny: But I liked the rug… Really tied the room together.
Henry rolls his eyes and stabs at a piece of steak on his plate.
Doc: I don’t think the rug is the issue here. You gonna try an’ get her back?
Johnny: I dunno. Didn’t sound like she was too interested in continuin’ our relationship. I reckon she got what she was after, an’ that’s that.
Doc: Too bad. She was pretty. Then again, there’s lots of pretty girls out there, an’ you’re newly single…
Johnny smiles at the sentiment. He had known that the relationship wasn’t likely to last, not in his line of work. But he’d hoped for a little more time. He really had been in love with her, and maybe he still is. Regardless, there are other things to worry about now.
Doc: So, what about your match tonight? It seems kinda…dumb.
Johnny: It seems exceptionally unintelligent, truth be told. The guy pelted me with hot dog buns, which as you know, are against my religion. So now I’m expected to show my ass to thousands of people… I don’t get it.
Doc shrugs and pushes his empty plate away.
Doc: It’s a joke.
Johnny: Yeah. But on the other hand, a paycheck is a paycheck. And I need the money so I can replace that rug.
The waiter returns, then, with their invoice, and the scene fades to black.
A waiter stands at their table, listening to Johnny explain something as he signs an autograph for the guy, while Doc looks on with a bemused expression.
Johnny: …and that is what’s referred to as a “Birmingham Booty Call” …
The waiter looks a little green, as if Reb’s sordid account might make him ill at any moment. He thanks the Inveterate Confederate for the autograph, then hastens away, promising to bring the check in a few moments. Johnny grins roguishly.
Doc: Jesus, Johnny. Why you gotta tell people things like that?
Reb shrugs.
Johnny: ‘Cause they believe it… Anyway, like I was sayin’, I went back home Tuesday afternoon. The place looked so empty.
Doc: She took everything?
Reb shakes his head.
Johnny: No, not everything. I mean, all my stuff is still there. But her clothes, everything she was stashin’ in the bathroom, even all the girly decorative stuff. There’s not a speck of potpourri or an accent pillow anywhere. She even took the rug…
Doc: To be honest, Johnny… it sounds like you’re better off…
Johnny: But I liked the rug… Really tied the room together.
Henry rolls his eyes and stabs at a piece of steak on his plate.
Doc: I don’t think the rug is the issue here. You gonna try an’ get her back?
Johnny: I dunno. Didn’t sound like she was too interested in continuin’ our relationship. I reckon she got what she was after, an’ that’s that.
Doc: Too bad. She was pretty. Then again, there’s lots of pretty girls out there, an’ you’re newly single…
Johnny smiles at the sentiment. He had known that the relationship wasn’t likely to last, not in his line of work. But he’d hoped for a little more time. He really had been in love with her, and maybe he still is. Regardless, there are other things to worry about now.
Doc: So, what about your match tonight? It seems kinda…dumb.
Johnny: It seems exceptionally unintelligent, truth be told. The guy pelted me with hot dog buns, which as you know, are against my religion. So now I’m expected to show my ass to thousands of people… I don’t get it.
Doc shrugs and pushes his empty plate away.
Doc: It’s a joke.
Johnny: Yeah. But on the other hand, a paycheck is a paycheck. And I need the money so I can replace that rug.
The waiter returns, then, with their invoice, and the scene fades to black.
