Wednesday, July 3, 2013

More after supper coffees

I was leaving mom's this afternoon, when Mavis was being dropped off for her to babysit. Walsh looked like he'd been through the wringer, still dressed in his work clothes, covered in sweat.

"Two questions. One, any new progress with that chat buddy? And two, your fairy tale, feels like you're setting it up to have a big love triangle. Are you cause it would be too much like your other stuff if you do."

Me-:"No, not going to have a love triangle. There is only so much I am allowed to do given it's on the thing. And no nothing new with the chat buddy."  I walked out with him as he headed to the truck, stopping long enough to light a cigarette. "Do you like the fairy tale?"

Walsh-:"Yeah. Reminds me more of the stuff you used to write back in high school and college. The paranormal stuff. You should create an uncensored version, really let yourself go. It's too constrained. I know, it's online and the rules and stuff, but still, would love to see it uncensored. The character based on Mad Hatter, favourite so far. No love triangle, please."

Me-:"I just said I wasn't going to god. No one listens to me."

He took a long drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke in my face. "What? I wasn't listening to you." he started laughing like a lunatic. "Your paranormal stories were always better then your romances. Always. Even when we were little, your ghost stories were entertaining."

Me-:"Why does this feel like a trap?"

Walsh-:"Not a trap, just saying I think you do better with horror stories. God, learn to take a compliment for what it is. Not everyone is mocking you when they say something nice you know."  He tossed the filter onto the ground and got into the truck. "Oh and P.S. Ben, likes your fairy tale too."


Walsh-:"That new guy at work I wanted to introduce you to. We were reading the story this morning on lunch. He thought it was funny."  my cousin grinned at me like the cat that ate the canary as he started his truck and started to pull out of the parking lot.

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