tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124895232011-04-21T14:13:15.038-07:00Out and about, the plot thickens...RangyManateehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179110871602352426noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12489523.post-1114650398237626392005-04-27T17:38:00.000-07:002005-04-27T18:06:38.240-07:00Danny - Hi Clare, how are you?<br /><br />Clare - Fine thanks, Danny.<br /><br />d - Are you sure, you just sneezed quite aggressively. Is everything ok?<br /><br />c- Yeah, stuff's fine. I hate my name being abbreviated though. Twats me right off.<br /><br />d- Me too. Disrespectful.<br /><br />c- Hmm.<br /><br />d - So, what's with the spunky face?<br /><br />c - Oh, that? Just some guy's spunk.<br /><br />d- What really? I was kinda joking.<br /><br />c- Yeah, this guy Cohuna. I don't even fancy him, he just keeps spunking on<br />my face.<br /><br />d- Oh.<br /><br />c- I know, it's mental really. I don't really like spunk all that much if I’m honest. Bit tiresome after a while.<br /><br />d- Hmm.<br /><br />c- I'm not sure I approve of the way I'm being portrayed in this conversation. I sound a bit slutty. I don't like that.<br /><br />d- Well, you've got spunk on your face Clare, what can I do? I can't just ignore that shit.<br /><br />c- Yeah, but who says I got spunk on my face? You're writing this, Danny, had you forgotten?<br /><br />d- Clare, you're making this a little too fashionably post-modern for my liking. there's something awfully morbid about the whole thing.<br /><br />c- Oh lighten up Danny, you idiot. Can't we just accept this neat literary trick and move the fuck on? See, I've changed the tone by swearing. I sound like a sweary person now. You know, tattoo, smokes, swears, wears hoop earrings and probably wonders what her parents would look like if they were given a hundred pounds and told to buy "glam".<br /><br />Gooch – What do you think is the quickest way to kill a chicken?<br /><br />c- Probably just strangle it.<br /><br />d- Wait, where did you come from?<br /><br />g- I was just crouching. <br /><br />d-<br /><br />g- Really low.<br /><br />d- Oh ok. <br /><br />g-<br /><br />d- Well why didn’t you talk to us before?<br /><br />g- I was. You just weren’t listening.<br /><br />d- But you didn’t say anything.<br /><br />g- Ah, well not out loud, no.<br /><br />c- It bums being abbreviated huh? <br /><br />g- I quite like it. g-. I sound important. Like a spy. <br /><br />c- Shall we play a game?<br /><br />g- Let’s play twister.<br /><br />d- No, no! Gooch, you’d never suggest to play twister in real life.<br /><br />g- Yes I would. Let’s play twister. Are you saying this isn’t real life?<br /><br />c- Well, what is real?<br /><br />d- Oh for Christ’s sake, don’t start that shit.<br /><br />c- But when you think about it, nothing is “real” is it?<br /><br />d- Yes it is. This is “real”-ly annoying me. This conversation. It’s boring, dude.<br /><br />c- I often wonder if I’ve seen a ghost. I sometimes look at myself in the mirror<br />at night. And it’s like a presence, you know? A presence, and I wonder, well is that real? I mean it felt real. But maybe it was just the nerves in my body moving or changing and just a chemical reaction, but I don’t know that. It feels real to me, so surely that’s as real as can be. Like a dream, a dream is real regardless of the fact that one day you have to wake up from your moment of unreality. How amazing are dreams anyway….<br /><br />d- I’m off.<br /><br />g- Where?<br /><br />d- To bed, it’s dead late, I’m tired and I've got to buy groceries tomorrow.<br /><br />g- Bye then.<br /><br />d- Bye.<br /><br />c- See ya!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12489523-111465039823762639?l=forgetthings.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>RangyManateehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179110871602352426noreply@blogger.com4