I was watching this episode the other day, and Vince's eagerness to talk to Howard just seems… suspicious. In an adorable-ness way. So I wrote this. Please review!
The loud click-clack of the typewriter fills the small room, and I frown. Why can't they make a nicer noise? Imagine if there was a typewriter that played a note of a Gary Numan song every time you pressed one of the letter thingys. That'd be amazing! I'll tell Howard my idea.
I open my mouth, and close it again. What in the sacred name of Jagger is Howard doing? He types one or two letters, then pauses to think, and continues, all the while pulling his 'thinking' face. It makes him look like that guy off his Jazz records, I'm not sure which one. The one who looks a bit constipated. Although, that's all of them - they're all the same to me. Howard's writing his book, I know that much.
Howard likes books. He once told me that, to him, there is nothing more attractive in a person than the ability to write books. Soon after, I created Charlie, but Howard said Charlie is stupid. I only wanted to impress him…
I pick up a banana from the fruit bowl beside me - the fruit bowl that Howard insists on having so we don't get a 'vitamin defififisciency'. Or something. I don't know. It's funny though, it turns out fruit just tastes like sweets! Howard said that I was an idiot when I told him that, but I think it's a pretty amazing discovery. People should know these things.
I twist my lips into a wry expression as I think about what Howard would say if I told him that. He'd tell me that I'm a simpleton, and that I should stick to things I'm good at, like making glitter cards (sold in all good stockists). He's right, of course. He's right about everything. But that's Howard for you. And that's why I love him.
He's still hunched over his typewriter, concentrating hard. I don't like him paying attention to anything other than me. Talk to me, Howard. He doesn't, though.
I guess I'll have to speak first, and then we'll have a conversation, and then (maybe) he'll call me Vincey-boy, as he sometimes does.
I like it when he calls me Vincey-boy. It's like a pet name, an affectionate nickname. I can almost pretend we're a couple when he calls me that. Almost, but not entirely.
'Howard?' I say, while peeling my banana. He ignores me.
'Howard?' He still blanks me, although it's obviously difficult. I bite into my banana.
'Howard. Howard! Howard? Howard. Howard! Howard? Howard. Howard. Howard!' Each time I say his name I savour the feel of it against my tongue, and let thoughts of him fill my head.
'Howard?' I say one more time, and he spins to face me, eye twitching slightly.
'This better be good.' he says, his tone weary.
'You know the black bits in bananas?' I say, widening my eyes innocently. 'Are they tarantula's eggs?' I (try to) coyly take a bite of my banana, while looking in is eyes. It didn't seem to work though, and he looks incredibly annoyed.
'Please don't ever speak to me again.' he says, in that dignified way he has of speaking.
I plaster a pretend grin on my face, and go back to my magazine, mindlessly chewing my banana. That didn't go right at all. I thought that maybe he would laugh, or we would get into an argument, or maybe a heated debate. I didn't think that he'd be angry, though. I only wanted to talk to him, and now he doesn't want me to speak to him ever again in my life.
I bite my lip, and smile. I'll try again, but this time talk about something he's interested in. Then maybe he'll enjoy having a conversation with me.
Maybe.
So yeah, that's it. PLEASE REVIEW! It gives me faith in what I'm writing, because otherwise I just think everyone hates my stories :/
Love and unicorns,Wisegirl xx