Trisher Nicole Married Who

By:

LiL Pippin Padfoot

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Disclaimer: Gotta love Aubs, she's the best. Her and Chelly and Katie. Yup.

I swear, I must be a slut. Trisher thinks I like Forsyth, Chelly is convinced it's J-Bob, Aubs thinks it's Austin, and Katie thinks it's Fish!

HEY EVERYONE! I FIXED THAT DOUBLE CHAPTER! SO GO VISIT CHAPTER 63 IT'LL HELP YOU CATCH UP IF YOUR CONFUSED!

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Chapter 76

Wonder Who That Could Be?

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That night, when Trisher returned to the library, she found me sprawled on the short couch, with my CD player, that I had found in one of the obscure pockets in my duffel.

"Hi." Trisher said. "How was your day? Mine was completely boring...Are you even listening?" Trisher leaned over and hit the 'Pause' button on my CD player. I looked up confused.

"Hey Trisher!" I said. "When'd you get here?"

Trisher rolled her eyes.

"And what were you listening to that was so enthralling?"

"Uh, Forsyth's Favorite song."

"I see." said Trisher. "You miss him?"

"Now why would I miss Forsyth?" I asked.

"'Cuz you have a crush on him."

"I so do not! I do NOT know where you guys get this crap."

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Wonder who that could be?" I asked "Why don't you get it?"

"Why should I get it?"

"Because I'm lazy." I said.

"Yeah, you are." said Trisher, walking toward the door. When she opened it, there was a candystriper, which I found highly amusing, considering it's like, Gondor, not like New York or something. He had a bunch of red roses. Red roses. Oooh, Faramir was good. What a romantic. And he was all mine. That thought made me happy.

"Paige!" said Trisher. "Flowers for you."

"Huh?" I asked

"Huh?" said the candystriper. "Um, actually, it's for Trisher, from your loving husband Boromir."

I had to cough to stop my laughter. Then I decided, I should just laugh, otherwise Trisher would suspect me. So I laughed, because, it was funny. I was laughing so hard I even rolled off the couch. Okay, so it was that funny, but the look on Trisher's face was priceless. Priceless.

The candystriper left, leaving a rather flustered Trisher and a hysterical me.

"I-I-I-I-I-I" Trisher was stuttering.

"You don't know?" I asked.

"Yeah." she said. "I totally don't know."

Me, being totally prepared had hidden a vase with water nearby, took the flowers from a stunned Trisher, and put them in the vase.

Trisher kept the card and continued to stare at it, and I turned my CD player back on, and this time I picked Tim McGraw's Country Boys and Girls Gettin' Down on the Farm.

All of a sudden Trisher was talking. And I wasn't paying attention. She once again interupted my song by hitting the pause button, and then she yanked the cord, ripping the earphones out of my ears.

"What this time?" I asked.

"The handwriting." Trisher said, shoving the card under my nose.

Okay, so I could tell what was wrong. Faramir's handwriting is much like mine, large sweeping letters, and very fine, almost elvish, with the exceptions of my 'S''s, it's all pretty elvish looking. And the note was written in bery elvish looking handwriting, except messier. See, what Faramir and I did was this, I wrote the note for Trisher, making it look like a girl's handwriting, because, obviously, Boromir would recognize Faramir's handwriting, and obviously, Trisher would recognize mine. So I wrote a note to Boromir. (To my wonderful guy, Trisher), and Faramir wrote Trisher's. What we didn't think about was that Trisher and Boromir wrote alike. They both wrote with small blocky letters. And we had over looked the fact that both Boromir and Trisher had seen each other's handwriting (when Trisher and I saw the copies of the Blue Notebook, and Boromir read the Blue Notebook).

Trisher was standing there tapping her foot.

"Yeah?" I said. "What's wrong with the handwriting?" I was calm and collected.

"What's wrong with it?" Trisher asked. "Boromir writes like me, and this doesn't look like my handwriting!"

"Well," I said. "Perhaps Boromir decided to learn to write better?"

Trisher snorted. "Yeah, right. And decided to take up ballet."

"That's wonderful." I said. "I've always wanted to do ballet."

Trisher hit me.

"Fine," I said. "Can't you just except that maybe Boromir really is a nice guy!"

Trisher gave me a murderus look. "Sorrrrrrrrrrrrry." I said. And that was the end of that.

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AList09: But on the other hand...

MiNtYgUrL1232: You have five fingers.

AList09: LMFAO. Damn straight.