P.S.
Maureen tries to write Mark an apology note…but she has writer's block.
A/n: Hi ya'll. I haven't updated in forever, and I just found this cute little thing. Pre-Rent. Mark/Maureen. This makes references to my other fic 'Moo With Me', but you can probably still understand it. It's short. It's silly. It's my first non-next to normal fanfiction in over two months. Tada.
Disclaimer: Would the owner of Rent neglect to update the fandom with stories for months? (I say not; therefore, I don't own it.)
#1
Dear Mark,
I know I shouldn't have thrown my box of animal crackers at you, but really, you can't just barge on me when I'm writing and…
Crumple. Groan. On the ground it goes.
#2
Dear Mark,
I regret to inform you that Maureen Johnson will be moving to Guam soon, but before she left she wanted to tell you…
Really, was she resorting to moving to Guam to apologize for Mark's glasses? No, no, no. That won't do.
#3
Dear Mark,
Do you know the side effects of the new medicine I'm taking involve bursts of rage resulting in
Seriously? The side effects for her medicine were dizziness, drowsiness (even sexual dysfunction); not screaming at your boyfriend and accidentally breaking his glasses.
#4
Dear Mark,
Having outbursts like the one that just happened isn't all new to me. It all started when Jimmy Franklin disrupted me as I was learning to write the alphabet in preschool. Remember? You were off playing with an abacus, and he kept drawing on my arm with a marker? He wanted to color with me and I was hell-bent on making my Ns not look like fucking Ms so I could finally spell my name. Since he wouldn't stop, I-
Maureen wasn't even sure the guy's name was Jimmy Franklin. For all she could remember, it could have been Roger, or she could've just made it up.
#5
Dear Mark,
I'm under a lot of stress, you know, for writing my protest and everything. Sorry I'm taking it out on you. Love you pookie!
God, that was sappy.
#6
Dear Mark,
Here's some tape to fix your fucking glasses and here's a stick to shove up your sensitive-
Ok, too mean. It wasn't exactly Mark's fault that he entered the room when Maureen was trying to write her protest. It wasn't exactly his fault that she was having writer's block. It wasn't exactly his fault that she forgot about their date that night because she spent most of the afternoon yelling profanities at her notebook. It wasn't exactly his fault that he was so sensitive; that blame would not be Maureen's fault, but Mrs. Cohen's fault.
#7
Dear Mark,
The reason I freaked out was because I heard that the movie we were planning on seeing sucked balls. So, I was saving us from going out and wasting money on it when we could be doing something cooler, like buying eggs and throwing them at things, or buying new black nail polish for Roger, or paying Benny and Collins to do a drunken duet to a Celine Dion song.
Liars went to hell. Actually, that excuse sucked; she could lie like a rug. But she wouldn't pay Benny and Collins to sing another Celine Dion song ever again. Her heart just wouldn't go on.
#8
Dear Mark,
I'm still sorry about your glasses; next time I'll remember to remember our dates and throw individual gummy bears as opposed to a huge box of animal crackers. Can I have a rain check for our date? Please, pookie?
Your insane but wonderful and sorry girlfriend,
Maureen
P.S. I still love you, even when it takes me 8 different drafts to write this, I forget our dates, and I break your glasses.