I don't own Juno. I don't own Rollo.
Um, yeah. I dunno. I was mopping at work today... and this was in my head. It's not very good. I dunno. I just wanted to write it.
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Rollo is 37 years old.
But once upon a time Rollo was 16.
He had friends and parents and school and a girl and a first name. He played guitar, even though he wasn't very good. He didn't have a lot of friends, but he didn't really mind. He was sort of weird, but was so everyone else. He was pretty happy.
But that was once upon a time.
Once upon a time Rollo was 24.
He lived with his parents, because he decided that college just wasn't for him. He played the guitar for money sometimes, and it wasn't a lot, but it was enough. He had friends and a girl, and they were all a little weird. But they didn't really mind. And he wasn't as happy as he was when he was 16, but he was doing alright.
That was once upon a time too.
Rollo is 37 years old.
Or at least he thinks so. He doesn't really think about birthdays anymore, and the days all sort of run together lately.
He lives by himself and he doesn't really have any friends. He used to have a dog, but that was once upon a time.
He doesn't play the guitar anymore, and he's alright with that, most of the time.
He gets up in the morning to his alarm clock. He goes to work. (Well, well. If it isn't MacGuff the Crime Dog.) He comes home.
Sometimes he drinks, but not really because he never liked the taste of beer. But sometimes he drinks anyways. And sometimes he thinks about a girl (because all 'once upon a time's have a girl) but sometimes he doesn't.
Rollo is 37 years old.
He gets up in the morning to his alarm clock.
Except sometimes he doesn't.