Saturday, February 22, 2014

Fanciful & Unfounded IX

Journal Assignment #9: In Which Sylvie is Blind

Write a story in which the main character desperately needs to clean his/her room.
- Professor Brink
I needed to clean my room.  It was a fact that had been communicated to me by my RA.  Noting the dirty plates lining the floor and the cookie crumbs on my desk, my RA informed me that I was now in violation of the health code.  Normally I am not threatened by such empty citations, but last night I heard scurrying sounds, which might not have been from the pipes overhead.  So I had decided that today was the day that the mouse buffet ended, and I regained my coveted status as sole mammal residing in room 513.
I had just turned on my boy band Pandora station and armed myself with rubber gloves and a dustbuster, when I heard a knock on my mostly closed door.  I vacuumed my way over, and opened it.
“Hey!  Jameson asked me to see a movie a few days ago, and I totally forgot to tell you.  The Foxy is showing a bunch of old movies today.  Most of them look pretty good.  Do you want to go?”  Sylvie asked from my doorway.
I quickly abandoned my armaments and settled on the hall floor with her as we scrolled through the list of movies on her laptop.
“I say we go with Bringing Up Baby.”
“Why?” asked Sylvie.
“It has Cary Grant and a leopard.”
“Anyway,” Sylvie said slowly, contemplating, “Are you sure you don’t want to see The Wizard of Oz?  Glorious Technicolor splendor,” she promised.
“Nien.  Leopards.  I stand firm.”
“It seems like your choices are seeing a movie with me and Jameson, or cleaning your room.  So honestly, beggars,” she paused for effect, “cannot be choosers.”
“You’re right.  I will see whatever you want.  As long as it doesn’t involve vacuum cleaners.  They disturb me.”
“Well since The Brave Little Toaster isn’t an option, I think you’re safe.”
The conversation continued in this vein until it was time for us to leave.
When we finally arrived at the movie theater, I spotted Jamie though the window.  I waved, but he was looking past me towards Sylvie.
“Hi Jameson!” Sylvie called out, rushing up to him.   He was holding a bunch of sunflowers and wearing grey pants and a navy crewneck sweater.   He looked better than usual.  Cleaner.  I was skeptical of this.  I was about to voice my concern/confusion when –
“Hey Sylvie,” he said moving towards us.  He shot me a confused glance.  Was there something wrong?  As I was pondering this, Sylvie pulled me toward the ticket counter.
I flashed my student ID and claimed my ticket.  As I walked toward the popcorn, I could hear Jameson’s deep voice intoning that he would like two student tickets.  “Two!”  I thought.  Then, “No,” Then “How?” And finally “Why?”  It dawned on me.  I was a date interloper.  Albeit an unintentional one.   While this relationship was strange and unexpected, the last thing I wanted was to get between them.
I contemplated my options.  The obvious first step was to buy the biggest bucket of popcorn available.  I pondered my next step while watching the mesmerizing yellow kernels fall like a buttery waterfall.  I could make my excuses and trudge back up the hill carrying my popcorn and not see The Wizard of Oz, which I now had a strange, bursting, desire to watch.
Maybe I could just not sit with them.  Yes, that seemed right.  That seemed like a non-awkward thing to do.  Maybe.  Maybe if I sat next to Sylvie it would be like I wasn’t there.   It would be like I was at the movie with Sylvie, and Sylvie was there with Jamie.  It would be like a friend date next to a date date, but with one person being shared.  Kind of like a weird three-legged race.  It seemed awkward, but I liked it.
I wandered into the dim theater with my toilet-bowl sized container of popcorn (I was promised a free refill if I consumed all of the popcorn before leaving.  It would essentially pay for itself.)
“Alexa!” Sylvie called, jumping up from her seat.  Jameson did not move.  It’s cool I thought.  It’s not ideal, but it’s cool.  Kind of like when you want macaroni and cheese and all they have is fettuccini alfredo.  Okay, not like that.  More like when you want macaroni and cheese and all they have is crashing a date with your best friend and your childhood friend when you didn’t even know they were dating.  
“Hey.” I said and sat down.  Maybe if I look away.  Yes, maybe if I stare only at the screen (and occasionally at my popcorn) for the duration of the movie, this situation will be okay.  I shared an awkward glance with Jameson as Sylvie turned off her cell phone.  I tried to mouth “Sorry,” but I’m not sure if he saw.
“I love this movie.” Sylvie was saying.  I decided to start my plan of attack.  Screen. Popcorn.  Trivia about Matt Damon.  Buttery kernels of joy.  Trivia about Jennifer Aniston.  Tasty –
“Alexa.  Alexa!” I looked over at her.  “I was asking you if you thought it would be better if she wore the silver shoes.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised to see that she was not entangled in Jameson’s embrace, but was instead turned, with her back to him, asking me a question.
“I don’t know Sylvie.  Why don’t you ask Jameson?” I said uncomfortably.  Jameson, who had apparently given up hope on his date, was now sketching bridges on the back of his movie ticket.
“No, he doesn’t know anything.”  Sylvie said glancing back at Jameson.  And even though it was dim.  I know I saw a tear glistening in the corner of his eye.  I’m sorry Jameson.  I will never unintentionally date crash you again.


I may have strayed from the prompt per se slightly.  To my credit, there IS a messy room which someone was supposed to clean. Next time, I will be better.
Cordially yours,
Alexa


There are many things unfactual about this.  Not the least of which would be the title.  I have 16/20 vision.  More figuratively, I’m not the one seeing bouquets of flowers that weren’t there.
---Sylvie

1 comment:

Steve (angrybabboon) said...

Dear Samu and AreeRee,

Much like the friendship between Alexa and Sylvie, this blog lives on!

This particular post raises so many questions.

Why would Sylvie agree to see a movie with Jameson but not acknowledge it as a date? Did she know what was happening? If so, why would Sylvie sabotage her own date? Also, why didn't Alexa escape the situation once she realized what was happening?

The descriptions alone, such as "my toilet-bowl sized container of popcorn" take this blog to another, higher level of the blogosphere. Wait, do people even say "blogosphere" anymore?

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