11:23
11:23
When Edward was younger he had toyed with automobiles. He had obtained a sporty car and modified it to suit his needs. A convertible, the roadster had quite managed to addict him to the wind blowing his ears back and the roar of the modified 12 cylinder making his blood boil.
This infatuation had lasted for a couple of seasons until maintenance had started to outweigh the time he had available to enjoy himself.
11:22
Last minute poetry
And this is what you throw at me
A song of love and hate and pain
So fucking trite so so insane
It makes me nuts this crazy shit
Don’t want it , Don’t like it,
No not one bit
But if he don’t ever finish this tale
That bloody author’s off straight to hell.
11:21
11:21
Yeah I, I got to know your name
Well and I, could trace your private number baby
All I know is that to me
You look like you’re lots of fun
Open up your lovin’ arms
I want some
Well I…I set my sights on you
(and no one else will do)
And I, I’ve got to have my way now, baby
(and no one else will do)
And I, I’ve got to have my way now, baby
All I know is that to me
You look like you’re havin’ fun
Open up your lovin’ arms
Watch out, here I come
*You spin me right round, baby
right round like a record, baby
Right round round round
You spin me right round, baby
Right round like a record, baby
Right round round round
Gareth staggered to his feet and headed for the washroom. “There’s gotta be some Tylenol or something there,” he muttered to himself. “My head is right spinning. Right round spinning.”
11:20
11:20
Jeezus, Mary and Joseph, what the hell was that?
Gareth was really re-thinking his relationship with Rowan right at this point. Or was it just the nerves? Still… Dead or Alive? That was just a bit too poetic. Or was that ironic…
11:19
11:19
Gareth watched the proceedings in a bit of a daze. The only thing he was really conscious of was the Bose up in the shelf. It seemed to be having a bit of an 80s moment. Unless that’s what Rowan usually listened to, and somehow that seemed doubtful.
There had been that Flock of Seagulls sing and a couple if electronic pieces that could have been DeadMaus, but they were way too damned happy.
He wasn’t sure he could take too much more of this.
11:18
11:18
“If you are going to serve me a drink couldn’t you at least make it a gin and tonic? Or a half decent whiskey.”
“Who the hell drinks a mojito!”
” Ah, old…friend. Don’t blow a bunny gasket. I thought you’ appreciate something soothing and relaxing after your long stressful wait. How was It know what you’d like to drink?” The beaver blinked his long black lashes at the outraged rabbit and continued. “Still, I suppose we could rustle up something you find more appropriate.”
Edward sputtered a little and began to retort. But barely an incoherent syllable had escaped his pink lips when he finally realized the bloody beaver was baiting him again. That stupid, impossible, oh-so annoying rodent seemed to have a knack for obfuscation through exasperation. He settled his weight back on his haunches and pointedly relaxed.
“My dear beaver,” he started again, “I am delight to see you well and in fine mettle. Shall I assume you think you have taken care of the more violent aspects of our situation and once again feel safe in your nubbly little black heart.”
The beaver quirked a slightly irritated smile and leaned toward the bunny with the new-fund attitude. But before he could snap off a retort the rabbit continued. “You are not you know. Safe I mean. You have done nothing to effectively secure the situation and more unforgivably you have gathered these people here as both unasked-for witnesses and fellow goats in your, once again, labyrinthine and tortuous plot.”
“Really, you should know better by now.” Edward seemed to swell, stood and moved across the living room with all eyes following him.
“If you have learned anything from our past… ‘encounters’ you should have at least learned that complications are to be avoided and that simplicity has its own rewards.” As Edward finished speaking he leaped suddenly to the side, moving towards the beaver while trying to ensure that no one could get between them. He was both surprised an not a little indignant when his leap ended suddenly, face first in a large fuchsia pillow with gold tassels.
Recovering, he turned his face towards the young woman wielding the offensive accessory and grimaced. “I see you’ve bought in to whatever sad tale this perfidious panderer has has been peddling. assure you young lady that your involvement is neither necessary nor requested and I would appreciate if you would move your obnoxious attempt at style from my path.”
Rowan stared back.
Edward sighed and swivelled his head back to the even-more-smug beaver who hadn’t moved at all during the preceding events. But, having lost his momentum, this time when he opened his mouth to speak, the beaver cut him off.”
“Silly rabbit; tricks are for kids…”
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11:17
11:17
“Seriously? A mojito?”
Jon Stewart is fun-nee
11:16
11:16
When Caroline came out of the kitchen, balancing the tray of drinks she was still holding her breath. She knew it was ridiculous and likely to cause her to pass out, but the lingering odour of wet beaver was a bit overwhelming and, new leaf or not, it was going to take a while to get over years of disgust.
She stepped over the small slightly damp rabbit in the middle of the living room floor. He, very definitely a he from his posture and the rage-like quivering that seemed to emanate from his tiny body, was apparently already half way into winter and his fur was an odd motley of nutmeg and snow white.
After passing the beaver his new martini, she bent down and handed the mojito to the patchwork rabbit. “We don’t have any fresh mint, so I used an infusion of dried. I hope that’s ok.” Without waiting for his reply she passed the two longnecks to the kids on the couch, grabbed the last bottle herself and, tucking the now empty tray under her arm, took a long pull from the Corona, lime bouncing in the bottle as she tried her best to drain it.
Tilting the bottle back down, she took a long breath and turned to the last occupant of the room and asked again, “Are you sure you don’t want anything? There’s a pretty well-stocked bar in there,” gesturing back to the kitchen with her bottle.
Caroline had been here about 45 minutes, and most of that had been in the kitchen, puttering around. When she first arrived the beaver had asked her to wait before saying anything and then watched her fidget for about 5 minutes before he shooed her off to the kitchen to fix drinks and see if there was any food to rustle up. Between her twitchy need to escape and the guilt she felt every time the blood soaked bandage slid out from under the robe he was wrapped in, she was glad to take on the hostess role.
She’d just chopped up some fixings for natchos and was waiting for the oven to heat up when Rowan popped her head in and told her in that odd drawl that the beaver said there was another guest coming and see if she could find something to make a half decent mojito.