RCW woke up with the sun shining in her face (which is one of the top 10 nicest ways to wake up, *I* think). She swallowed the bit of toast that she'd stolen from the kitchen and finished it up with a bar of melted chocolate from her pocket (y'know the ones that are so melted that you have to lick them off the wrapping?). She realized with a pang (at her own stupidity) that she hadn't thought to bring any water with her. She'd have to remember that for next time. Feeling quite happy overall (mainly cos of the chocolate. There's nothing like chocolate for making everything feel better - even suffocating in an air-conditionless airport with really sleazy men giving you the once over till you feel like punching their eyes out and then being assailed by what you believe is a wasp that has somehow gotten under your ankle-length skirt and proceeding to yelp and flap around (you, not the wasp) thereby attracting even more unwanted attention and almost missing your flight out of this hellhole- yeah, that's another story), she folded up her dupatta, stowed it in her bag and set off on her merry way.
By mid afternoon I'm happy to tell you that RCW was at the freeway. She had been hearing the noise of cars and trucks speeding by for almost half an hour before she caught a glimpse of the tarmac. But she was unprepared for what she saw in spite of that. The speed at which the vehicles were traveling was actually more than scary. However being a brave girl with a *lot* of gumption, she decided that the nicest thing would be to be inside one of those vehicles moving away from the blogosphere rather than standing at the side of the road, looking. She decided to hitch a ride. This is, in all cases, a very delicate venture and successes are far and few between (or few and far between). But RCW was lucky (beginner's luck it's called no?) and within 5 minutes of standing looking hopefully at passing cars did the trick. A fire-engine red BMW stopped with a screech within feet of her and the passenger side window lowered.
'Need a ride?', asked the lady who was driving, hitching her dark glasses up over her forehead. 'Umm...yes, please', said RCW hesitantly. 'Good, hop in', said Fashionable Lady with the Sunglasses and the Extremely Pretty Scarf. RCW got in to the car, feeling like she was entering a spaceship to an alien world. 'Name's Brown Magic', said the Lady, 'and boy, am I glad to get some company'. She flashed a dazzling smile at RCW. RCW gaped back at her. She could have sworn she'd seen a distinct twinkle in Brown Magic's eyes (y'know like the one in Tony Curtis' baby-blues in The Great Race? Remember?). Something told her this was going to be *quite* the ride.
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21 comments:
I drive?!? And I pick up young women and look at them with a glint in my eye?
Wow - I'm a little creepy, aren't I?
i can imagine the whistles and cheers in the theatre at BM's entry
egad... what a twist...
btw, am i still doing a guest entry?
yes, wasn't this supposed to be the guest entry? ( not that one is objecting, mind)
If she really has a BMW (fire-red or otherwise), she improves the tone of this narrative.
Can we get RCW bumped off? She's REELLY getting on my nerves. Then TR and I could subvert this to a 'Victoria No. 203' story, with perhaps BM(W) adding the glam quotient.
Diamonds. There should be missing diamonds. And a CD with Secret Plans.
Oh, and if SHE gets a BMW, I want an Aston Martin. 'Op to it!
J.A.P.
@bm: But at least creepy cool, no?
I can't wait for at least *one* of you people to appreciate the roles I give you. Tsk.
@the saint: You're fast becoming my favourite person.
@wiseling: Yeah, you are!! You're next up. Mail it to me and I'll post it.
@??!: Hmmph. And already clamoring for my head. Sigh.
@jap: Umm here I was thinking *I* was writing this story.
??!:
seems like i was the guest entry. a walk on part in a war -- thankfully, given what's happening in this commentspace :-D
tr: nooo...wiseling was supposed to be deputising for Flaffmeister. guest column, more aptly.
Good pun, though.
BM: that's what you get for listening to Journey.
@KM - just a small town girl,
living in a lonely world,
took the midnight train going any-where...
Just a city boy
born and raised in south detroit
took the midnight train going any-where
(And if we can request vehicles, I want a forrest green Jag)
The things I learn about people just by reading others blogs. SO much more fun than writing your own blog. We want more, MORE, MORE!
@tr: You're *so* not getting off that easy. You're gonna have a *pivotal* role. Pivotal, I tell ya.
@bm: Now the lady wants a jag. Sigh. Starting to feel like a used car salesman.
@ph: Psst. These people are crazy. Really, I fear we are in a lunatic asylum which would make us....ummm....
ASTON MARTIN!!!!!
PRONTO!
(and ask Q to be on his toes for this one)
(You Know Who)
And oh, please make it gun-metal grey with chrome trim, BLACK leather seats (tan seats are so declasse) by Stanley and the steering wheel by Alonso of Milan. No fancy suspension please, I prefer the 70s feel to the ride.
Got all that? Good.
You Know Who
I am not, repeat not a car salesman, used or otherwise. Jeez. People, people, let's get a grip. And black leather? Like, please! Do we have to be so predictable? *insert eye roll and raised eyebrow*
pivotal, eh? alimentary.
speaking of which, care to email me your itinerary while in the Motherland? i'll be there during the latter half of the month. (rastabula at gmail)
i think red choli wali needs a wardrobe changing, keeping with traditions and all.
and yes, i hooted and whistled at "name's brown magic." very bond girl of her.
wardrobe change. that was.
@tr: Check mail
@scout: finally some appreciation. thank you muchly
-Revealed
checked. nothing.
Tee hee! BM sounds positively porno.
Not that I know what porno sounds like of course. I am good injun girl.
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