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capeandcowl2011-07-06 02:15 pm
watchovers.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowl2011-07-06 02:15 pm
Entry tags:
[video]
[There's a woman in an MAC apartment! She is blonde and early middle-aged and sitting at her MAC standard-issue kitchen table, with an empty plate in front of her. Her hair has been tied back sternly from her face.]
The fourth was quiet. I mean--obviously, the nonstop explosions weren't. But for me, it was pretty quiet, comparatively. Back home, we'd have gotten half the family together for a cook-out, and nobody would stop talking. The dog would be going crazy at the grill--we were never able to train him out of that, screw Cesar Milan--the kids would be screaming and scraping their knees. I'd be driving myself crazy trying to get everything ready. I mean, this is all hypothetical, since it was November back there the last time I checked, but from what I'm hearing time is the least crazy thing about showing up here. Anyway, the night before last I watched the fireworks and got some lousy Chinese. There was a sort of peace to it, but peaceful isn't really what I signed up for. If I signed up for anything. Which I didn't, but hey, who cares, right?
[She pauses in her speech, and her shoulders sag.]
I didn't want to do this--you know, the whole introduction thing. It makes this seem real, and a part of me was really hoping that it would go away. I keep thinking that this is some crazy dream, and I'll go to sleep and wake up next to Joey with the damn dog drooling on the comforter where he doesn't even belong. But I've been pinching myself a lot, and every time I wake up, here I am. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't think I've got much of a choice about this anymore, especially if it's making our personal Guy Noir look at me the wrong way.
[A weak smile.]
My name's Michelle, and I'm going to stop talking about myself now now. I'm on the fifth floor of the MAC, the door's open, and there's kielbasa on the stove if anyone wants some. Hey.
The fourth was quiet. I mean--obviously, the nonstop explosions weren't. But for me, it was pretty quiet, comparatively. Back home, we'd have gotten half the family together for a cook-out, and nobody would stop talking. The dog would be going crazy at the grill--we were never able to train him out of that, screw Cesar Milan--the kids would be screaming and scraping their knees. I'd be driving myself crazy trying to get everything ready. I mean, this is all hypothetical, since it was November back there the last time I checked, but from what I'm hearing time is the least crazy thing about showing up here. Anyway, the night before last I watched the fireworks and got some lousy Chinese. There was a sort of peace to it, but peaceful isn't really what I signed up for. If I signed up for anything. Which I didn't, but hey, who cares, right?
[She pauses in her speech, and her shoulders sag.]
I didn't want to do this--you know, the whole introduction thing. It makes this seem real, and a part of me was really hoping that it would go away. I keep thinking that this is some crazy dream, and I'll go to sleep and wake up next to Joey with the damn dog drooling on the comforter where he doesn't even belong. But I've been pinching myself a lot, and every time I wake up, here I am. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't think I've got much of a choice about this anymore, especially if it's making our personal Guy Noir look at me the wrong way.
[A weak smile.]
My name's Michelle, and I'm going to stop talking about myself now now. I'm on the fifth floor of the MAC, the door's open, and there's kielbasa on the stove if anyone wants some. Hey.
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