A.E.L.E.O.P.E. Where Line Eats Line...
I got really involved on doing rewrites for a novel I've been hacking away at, so all I got in my pocket, today, is a story that started yesterday by y'all. It seems to me, there is a bit of writer eating writer going on as this tries to move forward, but let's see where it goes. Any of you bloggers out there out of ideas or wanting a break, run off with this blogger tale, get your readers to add some more, then bring it back. Heck. I'm easy. I just wanna see how far this story goes...
---------------Patchouli Coffee----------------
The late day sun struck the Mercedes at the most inopportune of angles, spreading a sheet of intense light across the dirty windshield.(1)I braked, hard, but not hard enough....The coconut colored coffee tattooed my uniformed legs...(2)
"Perfect, just fucking perfect," I thought, looking down at the stains- both the old and the new. (3) "There was no way I was going to meet his parents, LOOKING LIKE THIS!" (4)
I wondered if that offbeat little store on the way might have something that could pass as clothing.(5) I banged the Mercedes into reverse, and prayed....for bandannas, flags, souvenir towels...anything I could pretend was retro or noveau... or that I could simply squeeze my skinny little fanny into.(6)
Steam rose from the front grill and shrouded the Mercedes emblem in a surreal fog. (7) The sounds of the engine hissing and ticking made me realize I was gonna have to hoof it to that fucking offbeat store.(8)
"What the fuck am I doing?" I thought, "this is Seattle, where EVERYONE has coffee stains on them somewhere, right?" (9)
But I wasn't right. I was wrong. There indeed was one person in Seattle minus coffee stains. And it wasn't me. It was that shining being directly ahead of me, ducking and covering in a futile attempt to avoid the rain splatter. I caught a whiff of patchouli, and then the shop door shut quickly behind the running effort of my predecessor.(10)
The shining and stainless fellow looked like a hot prospect but for his stench of patchouli which, I quickly surmised, was more related to being an aging pothead than a young metro-sexual wearing Prada eau de parfum.(11)
I took a deep breath, ducked under the rusty rain spout, clunking my head on the wind chimes, and followed him in.....hell, maybe I'd follow him anywhere.... (12)
7 comments:
but for now, I was compelled to follow him into the danky little shop. (13)
I like those fish. Is that what they call a head job.
(14) Scratching around, I managed to find a tasteful lime-green poncho, some contrasting orange shorts, and a pay-phone (out of order), however, upon enquiring at the counter, Mr.Iwillmakeyoubeautifulbabies, overheard my dilemma and offered to step up to the plate (swoon).
I keep coming back waiting for a half assed sentence to strike me... Still waiting ...but~~~
I am oddly drawn to that photo.. I find it sick and handsome all at the same time~
(15) The pitch of his voice was at once deep and melodic.
I've just read your comment on "It's the little things ", and want to shake your hand.. good on you, my man! x
hell, maybe I'd follow him anywhere... Then again, maybe not. Experience had taught me that I didn't exactly have what you'd call faultless taste in men (13).
There y'all go. My little contribution.
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