It was a matter of minutes before RCW and BM were sailing back down the freeway (especially because someone - and by someone we mean the sort of dastardly old man who would compare Bridget Jones to Elizabeth Bennet- daftheadedly left the keys in the ignition). Except this time in a beautifully sweet-running grey Aston Martin. RCW was just beginning to wonder where they were headed when she saw a sign. "Portugal 60 miles that-a-way" it said. She started humming along to the radio, feeling pretty chirpy. She didn't know the words to it but she hummed anyway. BM hated people who hummed along with the radio but short of pushing RCW out of the car she could think of no way to shut her up. She was just about to suggest that any humming could be taken elsewhere (in the sort of nasty tone that comes naturally to some people and is really extremely hard to learn if you don't have the knack of it from the cradle onwards - haven't you ever noticed how some babies bawl in the nastiest of tones? Sorta like a scary Exorcist type crying) when someone cleared their throat from the region of the back seat.
"Excuse me, ladies", said an unmistakably urbane voice that RCW had often heard quoting Iranian poetry with her dad in their living room (hers and her dad's living room, not hers and Baron F's or Baron F's and her dad's which would have been a tad weird). BM almost shrieked but she was proud to think that she'd managed to choke it back in the last minute. Her arms still trembled a little bit but she bravely said, "Umm are you an axe murderer, mister? Because you need to know that I'm wanted by the cops so they could be chasing us right now!" Baron F, a little taken aback said, "No. But this happens to be my neighbour's car. Are you perhaps one of RCW's friends?", he nodded in a glacially friendly way at RCW to show peaceably good intentions (since the thought of upsetting the crazy woman driving the car while they were cruising at what seemed like 120 mph on the freeway seemed like a bad one). "No no she isn't my friend and this is the Prof's car???? OMG I had no idea I am insuchamessandnowireallydontknowwhati'll-", RCW slumped forward.
This time I have to regrettably inform my readers that BM *did* scream. It was a quickly choked off scream though (if that makes it any better). "I simply detest people who mess up their punctuations and use all those acronyms", drawled Baron F as he pocketed what looked like a Beretta. BM gulped.
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16 comments:
oooooh, Baron F turns nasty? how ungentlemanly of him.
oh good, that humming was getting on my last nerve
Well suffer the Baron F now. *I* would have had so much more fun the girls' car. Hmph.
aha...alter-egos also creeping in. or as we should say, grey shades. hmm...hmm again...interesting.
@??!: Yeah, but one feels there were justifiable circs.
@bm: I knew it would. Did it only for you *has manic, worshiping, psycho-stalker-like gleam in her eyes*
@ph: I know, I know. But I could think of no way to lump you in with them. As creativity is my witness I tried.
@cnb: We aim to interest ;)
Methinks this RCW person has transference issues, seeing as the last time I checked it was her father who was anal about spelling and punctuation. I'm just speculating, of course, but I think Baron F probably knocked her out (I'm assuming he didn't shoot her - though the effect at that range in a closed Aston Martin WOULD be spectacular) either because a) she was humming along chirpily to a song on the radio (Baron F disapproves of radio per se, so humming along to it is entirely beyond the pale) or b) Baron F thinks this BM person is interesting and wanted to get RCW out of the way.
What I really want to know is - what the hell was Baron F doing in the back of TR's Aston Martin with a Beretta in his pocket? He's a reclusive bookworm, you know, not James Bond.
@Baron F: He was drunk and passed out in the back of the Martin after a wild night of revelry and so forth. The Beretta was the Prof's of course! If people would only be patient these things would be explained in good time. Sigh.
not sure i understood what went on but sounds like a fun ride anyway.
well?
*taps foot impatiently*
*joins c&b in impatient foot-tapping*
well?
@tr: Join the Club. We're happy campers, though :).
@cnb and wiseling: A new episode fresh from the press first thing tomorrow morning (i would do it tonight only i'm gonna go out in less than an hour and i haven't even begun getting ready!)
*grumble grumble*
fine. but only 'cause it's you.
This is SO damn unfair. You take my car, my gun ...
I shall have my own turbo-charged Bentley (1954 Mark II Continental with an Arnott super-charger AND converted to a 2-seater, natch!)
And carry a Smith & Wesson
Continental Airweight .38. More stopping power, useful for use on carloads of anarchic young women.
In short, I shall go play on my own block.
J.A.P.
@revealed: all lies. where is promised episode? *glares malvolently*
*also glares with cold, unforgiving eyes* well, missy? you lied? what about the hippocratic oath eh?
@wiseling and cnb: The apologies roar and tumble in an avalanche. Tonight it shall be done. Really. I have it all planned in my head!
@JAP: Sir, I hereby formally desist from trying to give you what you ask for cos you invariably complain and grumble. No more Ms.Nice Girl! Hmmph.
PS: My sis updated the other one though :D
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