I've spent a fair amount of time today not doing my Calc homework. Funny how that works, isn't it?

This is dedicated to my best friend, who called me last night to inform me that she was back from France... and stuck overnight in the Atlanta airport. Poor Jenni. She had to spend the night in a place called "Dusty's." The name itsel is ominous enough.

Pride and Prejudice: Abbreviated and Un-fabricated

Wa-da-tah.

I opened one eye.

It hurt. I closed it again. Oh, it was silly to try and wake up anyway. This bed was soft and fluffy; I saw absolutely no real reason for ever getting out of it. But then I remembered that this was…

"Danny Dardy! Why am I sleeping in your bed?" I asked, rushing into the nice little sitting room in a huff, my headache laying forgotten back in Danny's bed.

Danny immediately sat up groggily. It was rather amusing the way his head just kind of popped out from behind the couch. "Wha?" he grunted rubbing his eyes. He looked up at me, wrapped up in one of his sheets, and his eyes just seemed to pop out of his head. I briefly wondered how if it hurt him when his eyes bugged out that far. "Oh," he sighed. "You kind of passed out in the airport so I put you up for the night." His voice was muffled again, because my one ear still hadn't popped from the airplane, and I had to turn sideways so I could comprehend his mumbling.

"And why," I drawled, glaring daggers that he couldn't even see because I was turned sideways, "am I naked?"

Danny's eyebrows shot up. "I wouldn't know. I didn't do that!"

I turned to face him, ear be damned. "Then who did?"

Danny shrugged, then squinted and looked closely at my clavicle. I briefly wondered what could be so important about my clavicle that he'd be staring at it so intently. Maybe Danny has some sort of freaky clavicle fetish? Then I briefly wondered who cam up with the word "clavicle." I mean honestly? I could so do that job. I would never have called fingers "fingers." They would be "wormies" if I had any say in the matter. In fact most body parts should be re-named. Except elbow. I mean, "elbow!" It's like a stroke of pure genius!

Danny coughed to get my attention. I suppose I had drifted off a bit there. That would explain the drool on my chin. "Carly," he drawled, still staring at my clavicle, "I'm almost positive that you are in fact, not naked."

"What?" I asked. I could have sworn we were just having a chat about clavicles. Why was he talking about clothing… or lack thereof? "How would you know if I was dressed of not?" I asked, eyeing creepy Clavicle Fetish Man with suspicion.

Danny coughed again. "Because I'm fairly positive that I can see the straps of your shirt."

I looked down. Oh! Right there, running right across my clavicle, was the strap to what I could only assume was a shirt. I lifted the sheet off my chest and peered down it. What do you know? Turns out I wasn't naked after all. What are the odds?

"Hey look Danny!" I shouted somewhat excitedly as I dropped the sheet. "I'm not naked after all!"

Danny regarded me somewhat amused, somewhat confused and somewhat alien like. That's quite a few looks to have at one. "What are the odds?" he asked somewhat sarcastically. That was weird. I could have sworn I'd thought something similar to that… I hardly stopped to ponder the odds of Danny being telekinetic; I was a bit too preoccupied with how he managed to slip "sarcastic" in amongst a myriad of other expressions.

"So, Carly, how about you get dressed so we can get to work," he suggested, blinking at me.

"I thought we just established that I'm already dressed," I pointed out. "And we're in France!" The thought finally hit me and I was overcome with sudden excitement. "It's like illegal to work in France!"

I hardly bothered to watch Danny roll his eyes at me, I was in France! What did I care if my sexy boss that I probably have a huge crush on was laying half naked (Oh? Had I forgot to mention that Danny likes to sleep without a shirt on?) on a sofa in a spectacular French villa? I rushed to the window and threw them open like they do in the movies. I almost fell out the window while trying to do so, but I feel the effect was the same.

I stared out the window agog. "Oh my!" That's how amazingly beautiful the French countryside is: I was reduced to the phrase "Oh my." It knocked me all the way to the 1960's.

"Danny!" I shouted over my shoulder. "Have you seen this place?!" I didn't stop to cosider that this was, in fact, his villa.

Danny stomped over to me after he hastily threw on a shirt. I was too preoccupied to be disappointed over him being fully-clothed… and then frustrated over my own disappointment… then analyzing over my own self-inflicted frustrations. Sometimes it's hard living in my head. It was nice to have a vacation.

"Welcome to the French Riviera, Carly," he stated as he hovered by my shoulder.

Unfortunately he was standing by the shoulder on my right side, where my ear still hadn't popped, and I couldn't understand a word he'd said.

But oh well! I was in France…!