A/N: So due to the horrible weather New York has been having for the past few days and having no power the whole time, yesterday I decided to play in the snow all day before going to the movies to see Cop Out. (Which I highly suggest! Within the first thirty seconds you'll be hysterically laughing, and to top it off I spotted a Wicked poster! This made me love the movie 525,600 times more.) Anyway, hope this doesn't suck too much. Until the bohos get there, these are all pretty much direct quotes of this guy and this kid who came up to me. Haha. Reviews are golden.
"This is bullshit!" Maureen cursed and stuck her fist on the counter in frustration. "I'm so bored-" she growled and planted her head in her hands, the navy blue blanket that swathed over her shoulders slid to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a red bra engulfed with black lace and a pair of matching panties. "Joanneeeee!"
For three days the couple had been stuck inside without electricity because of the weather. Joanne was home from work for there was no power at her office either. Not to mention the weather conditions made transportation an Olympic event. The sidewalks were piled with four feet of dark snow that the plows had pushed back onto the pathway, leaving only a foot wide path to walk. Every few steps hosted another colossal structure of packed together snowfall which, without having the climbing expertise of a primate, were impossible to prevail. On every other block was a stripped power line wrapped around a telephone pole impeded with orange traffic cones, leaving most of the city without power.
Both Maureen and Joanne had done anything and everything to keep themselves occupied. That included multiple six hour runs of Monopoly, numerous games of Go Fish that mostly ended with Maureen accusing Joanne of cheating, several failed attempts of I Spy, and lots and lots of sex.
They had contemplated on making a trip to the loft but there weren't many cabs willing to travel to East Village in the blizzard and they weren't too keen on the idea of making the walk.
"We can play twenty questions," Joanne suggested with a chuckle while pouring hot water into two mugs that each contained a tea bag. She, unlike Maureen, comfortably sported an oversized maroon Harvard sweatshirt, a pair of black sweatpants, and white socks. The temperature in their apartment hadn't peeked past fifty in days and currently apprehended a frigid forty two.
"No," Maureen bluntly retorted and made eye contact with Joanne to show her annoyance. She picked up the tall, thin, red candle that effectively lit the kitchen area; tipping it over to spill a few drops of the heated pink wax on to her hand; letting it cool before rolling it between her middle and index fingers.
"Well, when you think of anything, let me know. " Joanne stirred the a scoop of sugar into the tea with a metal spoon before taking a small taste from the scalding liquid. "And put some clothes on. You'll freeze to death."
Maureen's eyes lit up, her mouth fell slightly ajar and then turned into a grin. "Wanna have sex?"
"Sorry Honeybear, I'm all sexed out for the next decade." Joanne took another sip from her tea and collected the bedspread from the floor and draped it over Maureen's body.
"Not possible," Maureen groused to herself. "Joanne! I'm going to die!"
"No one has ever died of boredom Maureen," Joanne rationalized.
"I'm one of a kind," she countered with a forged smirk, earning an exaggerated eye roll from the lawyer.
After several minutes Maureen finally retreated to the bedroom to get dressed. Fumbling, through the closet she found a heavy black ski coat of Joanne's. She raised her eyebrows and threw it on the bed and ran to the dresser, pulling out the first two pairs of pajama pants she found and another one of Joanne's old Harvard sweatshirts.
Ten minutes later Joanne sat on the couch reading a book that looked as if it had bed through both world wars, the title barely legible on the torn and eroded cover. Her attention was redirected to Maureen when she wobbled out of the bedroom door. "Where are you going?" Joanne asked, stifling a laugh by pressing her lips forcefully together until her cheeks inflated at the site of her girlfriend.
"On an adventure," the diva stated and glanced at the full length mirror in the hallway, letting a small giggle escape from her own lips.
"You look like a snowman."
Her legs were clad in red plaid flannel pajama pants that covered an additional pair underneath. Both were tucked into the black snow boots that were two too sizes big for her and only fit because of the four sets of socks she was wearing. Her torso was swallowed by the oversized ski jacket that's sleeves were longer than her own arms. On top of that her hands were enclosed in bright red-orange bulky gloves. Maureen knew her attire made her completely disproportioned and she did in fact resemble a six year old's feeble attempt to create a life sized snow creature. Despite this, Maureen pulled together an all too serious face and readdressed her concentration on her girlfriend, "Fuck you Joanne."
Joanne just shook her head and continued reading while Maureen stomped out the door and into the building's hallway.
Maureen shuttered as the skin blistering cold air hit her face when she opened the door to the brownstone apartment construction. "Stupid weather," she mumbled while shuffling across the sidewalk, kicking up white powder with her feet.
Sighing, Maureen leaned over and picked up a lump of snow in her hand and began packing it together, until it made a perfectly round ball. She smiled to herself, surprised she was still able to make the flawless globe of semi frozen liquid, and tossed it between her hands before flinging it onto the window to their living room, where she expected Joanne to still be lying.
Laughing, Maureen darted to the alleyway of the building where none of the snow had been touched. She got on her knees and with her hands made a wall of snow that stood approximately three feet tall, and then began mass producing snowballs.
Within twenty minutes she had made enough snowballs to equip a small army. With a content sigh Maureen parked herself next to her pile of ammo waiting for the next individual to stroll by.
A man in his late fifties carrying a brown paper bag filled with what Maureen presumed were groceries, sauntered down the side of the road, keeping his attention on the ground to avoid slipping on any ice.
Maureen hurriedly chucked a snowball in the man's direction, only to miss him by a mere three inches. "Shit," she muttered and ducked back underneath her wall.
"Hey, what are you doing?" the man scolded and approached Maureen from the other side of the barrier.
"Huh?" Maureen replied, taking on the role of an innocent bystander.
"What the hell are all of those snowballs for?!" He accusingly pointed to the heap of snowballs.
"What snowballs?" Maureen cocked her head to the side, pasting a baffled expression on her face.
"THOSE!" he shouted and leaned over the blockade to point once more.
"Sir, there are no snowballs there," she calmly explained.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" The man shouted and picked up a snowball, crushing it in his hand.
"You're going to have to pay for that. You break it, you buy it." Maureen suppressed a laugh by pulling her lips between her teeth.
"I'm not paying for shit!"
"Sir," Maureen began with an offended and hurt tone, making sure to make eye contact before continuing. "Why are you yelling at me?"
The man threw his arms up in defeat and plodded away.
Maureen laughed to herself and took another handful of snow to what the man just destroyed.
"Aren't you a little old to be playing in the snow?" a young voice questioned.
Maureen looked up to see a little boy hovering over her. "Aren't you a little young to be hitting on me?"
"Hitting on you?" He scratched the yellow hat on his head that contrasted with his mocha skin.
"Never mind." Maureen took hold of a snowball and tossed it between her hands. "Do you need something?" she inquired slightly agitated that the boy wasn't leaving.
"What are all of the snowballs for?"
"Zombie apocalypse. Why, are you one of them?"
"I don't think so…"
"Alright then!"
"Can I play with you?" he requested in a hopeful voice as he smiled, flashing Maureen a grin.
"This isn't a game kid. This is life or death. You get attacked by a zombie and you're gone for good."
"Can I help you then?"
Maureen pondered for a moment, unable to resist the little boy's smile that was missing two front teeth. "One condition. You replace every snowball you throw with another."
"Okay," the little boy agreed and sat down next to Maureen, taking a snowball into his own small hands.
Maureen nodded to herself. "Actually… two conditions," she added while a devious grinned played on her face. "You take the blame for any and every snowball thrown in our mission."
"Mission?"
"Hit any zombie who walks by." Maureen elaborated with a shrug.
"Deal!" The little boy held out his hand to shake Maureen's. "I'm Andrew and I'm eight."
"I'm Maureen and I'm… 21," Maureen lied and shook the boy's hand. She turned her head towards the street when she noticed various pedestrians. "Quick, get armed!"
"Are those zombies?"
"Yes," she whispered and held her finger to her lips. Hastily they plucked a few snowballs from the giant stack and knelt behind the divider. Maureen held out her hand, signing the numbers, 'One… Two… Three…'
"Fuck, you've got good aim!" Maureen complimented him with an astonished smile as she ducked back underneath the wall. He had nailed all three 'zombies' square in the back while Maureen only managed to hit one 'zombie' on the shoulder.
"You cursed," he scolded her.
"And just when I thought you were cool," she shook her head and made a clicking noise by pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth. "Get used to it kid."
Maureen's head perked up when she heard a familiar cluster of voices.
"Mimi, you'll fall!" Angel warned Mimi as she climbed the mound of snow.
"Who cares? If I do I'll fall in the snow!" Mimi replied, her arms held out beside her to keep her balance while Mark filmed her.
"I'd join you, but I'm stoned," Collins muttered as he took another hit off of his joint and supported himself on Angel.
Roger trailed behind the group as he made a several snowballs that he tucked between his arm and chest.
"Get them!" Maureen quietly squealed and began bombarding the bohos with snowballs, Andrew quickly following suit.
"What the fuck?" Collins dove into the snow and covered the back of his head with his arms.
"Maureen!" Mimi shrieked as she was knocked in the stomach with the snow. Laughing she swiftly retaliated by making her own and flung them towards the excited brunette.
Angel carefully leaned over to pick up a mound of loose snow that fell apart in the air. "Shit. I'm on your side!" she yelped and skipped over the obstruction that hid Maureen and the little boy.
"Zombie!" the little boy yelled and backed behind Maureen who refused to stop what she was doing.
"Angel's not a zombie. She dresses too well," Maureen calmed him while dodging snowballs coming from Roger's direction.
"Aw, thanks Chica." Angel gushed and crouched down.
"Guys, my camera!" Mark whined as he dashed away from the alleyway and to the front of Maureen and Joanne's apartment building, still making sure to film every moment.
"Dammit!" Roger yelled and scrambled to make more snowballs.
"What is going on out here?!" Joanne interrogated as she observed the snow ball fight between her friends.
"FIRE!" Maureen bellowed and flung snow at her lover. Soon Roger, Mimi, Angel, Collins, and Andrew were doing the same until they ran out.
Joanne still stood in the same spot, her body shaking from the cold powder she was just attacked with. "I was gonna ask if anyone wanted hot chocolate," she muttered staring at her feet and swaying back and forth.
"Aw, Pookie!" Maureen ran up to the lawyer, engulfing her in a giant hug. "I'm sorry. We thought you were a zombie."
"That is… what happened." Roger nodded and smiled, placing a hand on Joanne's shoulder.
"Sorry Jo," both Mimi and Angel apologized in unison.
"This isn't my fault. I'm stoned," Collins defended himself and took another hit from his joint.
"I'm sorry too!" Andrew spoke as he approached Maureen and Joanne. "She told me to." He looked up at Maureen critically. "I'm Andrew and I'm eight."
"Hi Andrew, I'm Joanne and I'm older than you."
"Are you 21 like Maureen?"
Joanne snorted and glimpsed at Maureen.
"You're no longer my zombie slaughtering partner," Maureen sputtered.
"So who wants hot chocolate?" Joanne clapped her hands together and started inside, the bohos not far behind her.
"Fine," Maureen huffed and grabbed Andrew's hand. "You're my zombie slaughtering partner again. Now let's go get hot chocolate."