Last week, I asked ya’ll to give me a list of words and I’d write a story/scene out of them. This wasn’t easy! But it was certainly fun. Thanks for the challenge. I had a great time.
Here’s the list of words you sent:
- dick
- poo
- passive-aggressive
- reefer
- mongoose
- egg whites
- tape
- mini pad
- unicycle
- duckbilled platypus
- gargantuan
- gargoyle
- fuzzy
- stickie
- crystal
- flux capacitor
The ONLY word I couldn’t get into the scene was flux capacitor (sorry, Leigh, hehe). Everything else is there, in some form or another. I’ve put the words in bold so you can spot them. Enjoy!
~*~*~
“Have you ever seen a duckbilled platypus?” Dick asked.
“What?” I asked.
Generally, I tuned Dick out. I mean, the man talked about nonsense most of the time. He was a bit of a weirdo, after all. And what was up with him riding a unicycle to work every day? I just wished the cubicle wall between us was sound proof.
“A duckbilled platypus,” he said. “Have you seen one of those?”
First of all, why would I want to? “Are they fuzzy?”
“I’m not sure. I was just wondering if you knew.”
I heaved a sigh. It wasn’t as though our jobs were that mentally stimulating. I mean, we edited copy for the nature magazine, Our Fertile Earth. It covered everything. There was even a story about a mongoose that saved the life of some unfortunate human in the middle of some rain forest in South America. Apparently, the mongoose had been in the right place at the right time because the venomous snake that was about to take a bite out of the man had, instead, gone after the mongoose. True story.
Wondering about this duckbill platypus thing, I decided to Google it. Who knew the thing was fuzzy after all? I grabbed a mini-pad stickie note and scribbled some stats about the animal. I figured I could toss it on Dick’s desk before I headed to lunch. Grabbing my crystal, I mentally prepared for the experience of stepping foot near his cube.
It wasn’t that I was a freak – I just had this purple protective crystal I kept on my desk. It was the only way I could deal with my neighbor on a daily basis. Having a reefer would make it that much better.
Did that make me passive-aggressive?
Shrugging, I parted my love beads – yeah, I had love beads hanging from the ceiling covering the entrance to my cube – I stepped over to Dick’s. Reaching around the wall, I placed the stickie note on his desk.
I swear, I didn’t get how he worked in such a big pile of poo. The man never threw anything away. Ever. He went beyond the worst packrat. He was obsessive compulsive. I guess that made us good neighbors. I was passive-aggressive, he was obsessive compulsive. Right?
Anyway.
“Hey, thanks,” Dick said. “Off to lunch?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Alone again?”
Oh, thanks, Dick. Thanks for the reminder that I am in fact a total loser and still, after a year and a half at this job, have no friends. “Yeah,” I said.
He paused, looking at me in a sort of thoughtful way. And it occurred to me at that moment his face reminded me of one of those gargoyles you see carved into the side of buildings. He had sort of a misshapen oversized nose, weirdly shaped eyes, thick eyebrows, and the thickest, fattest lips I’d ever seen.
And did he realize his head was sort of this gargantuan oddity attached to his body?
I suppressed the shudder that wanted to course through. Yeah. He was just freaky looking.
“See ya.”
Whatever.
I headed through the front of the office and out the doors. There was a café in the lobby of the building and that’s where I frequented. They served breakfast, lunch and brunch. And you could get these really good egg white omelets for lunch. And I knew that’s exactly what I wanted. Taped up on a board outside the entrance to the café were the daily specials. Cheeseburger and fries. Pancakes, sausage and bacon.
But I was still leaning toward that omelet.
”The glass is half-full.”
