Disclaimer: So Weird belongs to Disney. The Laughing Man story belongs to JD Salinger.
A/n: I've decided that everr Fan Fiction author should have at least ONE goofy story. This will be mine.
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The 7Eleven was occupied by the Molly, Carey, Gordy, Fi, the cashier, and Annie. Molly and Carey were immersed in a controversal argument about the ownerships of cellphones. Gordy and Fi were playing catch with an empty Gatorade bottle. The cashier was leaning on the counter. Annie was leaning on the cashier.
"So, you think that, if you're related to the possessor of a cellular telephone, you have the right to use it as you please?" Molly narrowed her eyebrows, urging him to answer.
"Well.. Yeah, I guess. Actually, yes: yes, that is completely true. Especially in the case of children."
"That is ludicrous, kid. Do you know how much some adults can become attatched to their electronical devices?"
Carey bit his lip hesitantly.
"Er, um, no . . . "
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"Do you play catch often?" Fi, noting a lack of conversation, pushed their game of catch towards a more social activity.
"Not really. No one really likes hanging out with an alien. They all think I have lice." Gordy slid his hand over his bare head. Fi blinked confusedly.
"Their loss. So, where are you from?"
"Madrid. Well, actually, Andromeda -- but I've visited Madrid. Have you ever gone skiiing?"
"Nope."
"You should. What a rush!"
"You speak English very well. Is it your first language?"
"Thanks, and no, it's not. My first language was Gurfunklesnurf, but it's pretty much a dead language in other provinces of my country. That's why I came here -- everyone is pretty much bilingual."
"My brother and my.. My friend, Cluet.. They speak limited Spanish."
"Ah, so do I! I can only describe, however, bizarre fables of pants and chicken."
"Intriguing!"
The Gatorade bottle fell to the floor, and they dove into an extensive conversation in Spanish about animals, clothing, and their emotional responses to each other (hey, if you can get stuck in time with a frozen dog, you can believe that animals and clothing react mentally to certain things).
...........................................................................................................
Annie stared at the cashier boy in adoration. Her eyes, glass orbs that never blinked, penetrated him intensely. He looked a little weirded out. Expectedly, Annie did not attend to his discomfort. All of a sudden, in a disturbingly chirpy rush, she contributed a few topics for debate.
"You sing?"
"No."
"Dance?"
"No."
"Eat?"
"No."
"Drink?"
"No."
"Sleep?"
"No."
"Spontaneously combust in a swirl of liquid substance while cemented to a colorful talking tree who was set up with you on a blind date by your Uncle Stacey?"
"Erm, yeah, once, but that was a mistake."
"Cool."
All of a sudden, a rustling of brush was heard outside, and the entire occupancy of the store whipped their heads around, towards the door. They watched it rigidly, until...
((I know, great way to end a fic, heh... R/R anyway!))
A/n: I've decided that everr Fan Fiction author should have at least ONE goofy story. This will be mine.
.............................................................................................
The 7Eleven was occupied by the Molly, Carey, Gordy, Fi, the cashier, and Annie. Molly and Carey were immersed in a controversal argument about the ownerships of cellphones. Gordy and Fi were playing catch with an empty Gatorade bottle. The cashier was leaning on the counter. Annie was leaning on the cashier.
"So, you think that, if you're related to the possessor of a cellular telephone, you have the right to use it as you please?" Molly narrowed her eyebrows, urging him to answer.
"Well.. Yeah, I guess. Actually, yes: yes, that is completely true. Especially in the case of children."
"That is ludicrous, kid. Do you know how much some adults can become attatched to their electronical devices?"
Carey bit his lip hesitantly.
"Er, um, no . . . "
.............................................................................................................
"Do you play catch often?" Fi, noting a lack of conversation, pushed their game of catch towards a more social activity.
"Not really. No one really likes hanging out with an alien. They all think I have lice." Gordy slid his hand over his bare head. Fi blinked confusedly.
"Their loss. So, where are you from?"
"Madrid. Well, actually, Andromeda -- but I've visited Madrid. Have you ever gone skiiing?"
"Nope."
"You should. What a rush!"
"You speak English very well. Is it your first language?"
"Thanks, and no, it's not. My first language was Gurfunklesnurf, but it's pretty much a dead language in other provinces of my country. That's why I came here -- everyone is pretty much bilingual."
"My brother and my.. My friend, Cluet.. They speak limited Spanish."
"Ah, so do I! I can only describe, however, bizarre fables of pants and chicken."
"Intriguing!"
The Gatorade bottle fell to the floor, and they dove into an extensive conversation in Spanish about animals, clothing, and their emotional responses to each other (hey, if you can get stuck in time with a frozen dog, you can believe that animals and clothing react mentally to certain things).
...........................................................................................................
Annie stared at the cashier boy in adoration. Her eyes, glass orbs that never blinked, penetrated him intensely. He looked a little weirded out. Expectedly, Annie did not attend to his discomfort. All of a sudden, in a disturbingly chirpy rush, she contributed a few topics for debate.
"You sing?"
"No."
"Dance?"
"No."
"Eat?"
"No."
"Drink?"
"No."
"Sleep?"
"No."
"Spontaneously combust in a swirl of liquid substance while cemented to a colorful talking tree who was set up with you on a blind date by your Uncle Stacey?"
"Erm, yeah, once, but that was a mistake."
"Cool."
All of a sudden, a rustling of brush was heard outside, and the entire occupancy of the store whipped their heads around, towards the door. They watched it rigidly, until...
((I know, great way to end a fic, heh... R/R anyway!))