Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Slight Return

When one — in this case this one — poises the ol' digits over a certain old digital board, he must, as a matter (of course), come to firm grips with what's been writ hitherthen, not only by the self but by the entire conglomerate of grubby fingers out there, and if then he's not sufficiently put-off by the prospect of justifying the spotlight, he must still bear down and come through with the goods, knuckles down, eyes locked. And it was with such hubris — deeply considered hubris, but hubris nonetheless — that I tapped (surprise, surprise) Ben in the shoulder region and steered his formidable gangle my way.

Yes?" he said, glaring as per.
"Nothing," I shrugged. "I just thought, you know, we could get to having an amusing* conversation or something — like old times."
Ben sighed (also as per).
"Must we?"
"Well, I sort of promised I'd do something today, and—"
"But why me?"
"What?"
"Why not one of your other readers?"
We laughed for several minutes before Ben clarified.
"No really, why not The Other, for instance?"
"The Other?" I looked puzzled. (I was puzzled.)
"Yes, The Other."
"Oh yes," I said, puzzled no more, "The Reluctant Revolutionary."
"I prefer Pop."
"Not Pops?"
"No. Just Pop."
"I prefer... Cynthia Rose — or just Cyn."
"Um... What?"
Ben posed a handsome puzzler, all right.
"You know — Starfish And Coffee."
"No."
"Well, it's—"
"I don't care," he said, sneezing. And with that he grabbed onto the side of a van and whizzed off.

Typical. Now I had no one to have amusing* conversations with. Scowling at my shoelaces, I returned home, free from any foreseeable deadlines but burdened by a lack of Ben. I washed dishes — The Gold Experience. Sometime later I remembered. Racing back to wherever that street was, I found the conjured and subsequently abandoned Ms. Rose standing near a bakery, dramatically soaked by a recent shower. She peered down at me angrily.
"Next time," I said, and raced off.

*Adjective does not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of The Times or any of its affiliates.

29 comments:

Not Quite Yoda said...

Let it be known that female bloggers are the new Other.

Actually, it is kinda disturbing the way our fictional encounters have become hate-filled and venomous these days. Ah well, far be it from me to dissuade you from portraying me in such a way. It's nice to know some form of myself is getting out the ol' emotions.

Happy Jourth, you ol' souse.

Not Quite Yoda said...

Unrelatedly - Holy crap, pinter and lovelegs now actually exist.

Kathryn said...

An amusing* read.

Does "peered down" make you vertically challenged or me vertically gifted?

Hugh said...

You're right, Ben. Perhaps it stems from the hip-hop thing. I remember in the earlier encounters you were a sort of benign existentialist most of the time.

It makes me vertically taller-than-Prince and vertically about-Buster-Keaton. In other words, Napoleonic. Although, granted, the "peered down" does depend on an assumption of your height. Next to Ben, it's certainly true — the little bugger's a giant.

Not Quite Yoda said...

I make up for it with a child's mind, though.
How on earth does disliking hip-hop make me a more hateful person? Shouldn't it be the opposite?

Kathryn said...

"Next time" better make up for the transgression, else I'll peer angrily up at you. :p

(I'm vertically about-Prince.)

Tom said...

just a gentle reminder we're seeing Yatch-Sea 6pm on the 10th or Jenth if we book the tickets in time.

Hugh said...

"How on earth does disliking hip-hop make me a more hateful person?"

It doesn't make you a more hateful person, it makes me more likely to portray you that way. But I think the real reason is merely that I feel it's getting somewhat repetitious and I use you to excise my culpability.

"Next time" better make up for the transgression, else I'll peer angrily up at you. :p

Audience expectation? Gah! Curse my jumping-to-conclusionness. And curse Ben and Harry for being skyscrapers. Much better weather down here, no?

Interestingly, Napoleon wasn't actually all that small — roughly 5'7". And at the time, that was taller than the average Frenchman. Small man syndrome loses its best argument.

"just a gentle reminder we're seeing Yatch-Sea 6pm on the 10th or Jenth if we book the tickets in time."

Awrighty.

Not Quite Yoda said...

If Yahtzee is free, may I trouble you to book for me? I don't know where to go or what to do.

While I'm not entirely comfortable being represented as a culpablator, I guess turning up in every damn story is acceptable if it's either that or get repetitive.

So Napoleon wasn't a short man but a tall poppy? Curious. He'd still be about Dudley-difference from my Cook, though.

Hugh said...

I meant the ones with you were getting repetitious. Or rather, using you all the time was getting repetitious. Or rather rather, using you all the time in similar scenarios was getting repetitious.

True, but we're the best Cook and Moore.

Kathryn said...

I was referring to the fictional abandonment (and fictional anger), not the jumping-to-conclusionness. :p

Hugh said...

Ah. Well, sorry about that. It wasn't too wet, I hope?

Kathryn said...

And curse Ben and Harry for being skyscrapers. Much better weather down here, no?

Yes, better weather and fewer obstacles.

It wasn't too wet, I hope?

Wet enough. Speaking of which, my fictional counterpart was pretty foolish not to take cover. Unless she likes being soaked, I suppose.

Not Quite Yoda said...

Perhaps she was just that stunned at being caught in bad weather all the way down there?

Come to think of it, masses of my social circle are dwarfs like you two. Maybe it goes some way towards explaining why I wouldn't trust many friends as far as I could throw them.

Kathryn said...

Yup, that could explain it.

Come to think of it, masses of my social circle are dwarfs like you two.

Oi! I might be short but I'm otherwise normally proportioned. Although I'm probably not short enough to qualify for true midget status.

Maybe it goes some way towards explaining why I wouldn't trust many friends as far as I could throw them.

Now I see why Hugh portrays you as venomous. You heightist bastard.

Not Quite Yoda said...

Midget status is 4'10. Just trust me on this.

And Hugh doesn't portray me as venomous for that. It's because my bite can paralyse, and possibly kill the frail or small.

And because I'm full of hate.

Not Quite Yoda said...

Also, now I re-read the bickering's source - I prefer Pops. Or Cornelia.

Kathryn said...

Malign, hate-filled, venomous, skyscraperish, heightist.

Boy am I glad you dislike hip-hop. The list is long enough already. :p

Not Quite Yoda said...

Of charms or deficiencies?

Kathryn said...

Charms, of course...

Oh, and I forgot the photogenic crotch.

Hugh said...

Taking this place as a whole, I'd say there'd be more instances of nice-Ben than evil-Ben. Under that formidably proportioned exterior, he's just a big baby, really.

(Incidentally, with the inclusion of Ms. Rose, the vertically 'just right' now outnumber the vertically grotesque in this revolution/renaissance/getonwithit/blah thingo. All is right.)

Cynthia all the way, man. At least compared to Cornelia.

Not Quite Yoda said...

The vertically likely to require the vertically-apt to grab things off higher shelves for them are not what I'f call "just right", but okay.

And I totally am a big baby. Like a monstrous skeletal teddy bear that just wants a hug.

What's wrong with Cornelia? It combines all the best elements of Cordelia (everybody's favourite Shakespearean character) with Cornelius (everybody's favourite ape in Planet Of, bar Dr. Zaius).

Hugh said...

The 'corn' makes me think of foot ailments, and isn't it the name of that Weakest Link lady?

Cynthia takes the "cyn" of the title and adds the aptly sized Prince.

Prince vs. Shakespeare + Planet Of The Apes...

I think the little guy could take them.

Hugh said...

(Although, I hasten to add, the monickered should get a say in the matter!)

Kathryn said...

The monickered agrees with Hugh.

Hugh said...

Monica it is.

Not Quite Yoda said...

Hear! Monica!

Kathryn said...

Hmm?

Hugh said...

Yeah, that's about as far as I got in my ventriloquist act, too.