become a handful of bright green picks.
He was ten percent certain he'd suffered irreparable brain damage at some point over the last couple of days.
"Dude?"
He turned to face the band. Maitland was scratching his ass but Gustav seemed to have a few questions. One question, actually.
"What the hell just happened?"
Lyra slipped her hand into his and Jack smiled. "We just made music."
Continuing to make music, they all lived happily ever after.
"Dude! I said no red M&Ms! What kind of a dumbass stage manager are you? Man, this show's been a total crap fest since Carson Daly left!"
More or less.
This is another title I really like. I think it's funny, and subtle, and not really subtle at all. This story contains my favourite line ever about...um... German sandals and may, quite possibly, be the strangest thing I've ever written. The story may, not just the line.
The fair is based on our local county fair, although we've never had a fortune teller and the cow-in-the-dress doorstop was actually at the summer craft show. Cynthia's reaction to Ferris wheels? My reaction to Ferris wheels.
I'm not one hundred percent positive, but I'm pretty sure that this is my first story where the characters use a cell phone. Kids, ask your parents what a tape deck is.
Symbols are a Percussion Instrument
Her cell phone rang just as they were passing through the gates. As the imperious trill rose over the noise of the fair and people turned to look, David Franklin put one hand over his eyes and sighed. "Cyn, why didn't you leave it in the car?"
"Are you nuts? Do you know how much this thing cost me?"
"Then why not leave it at home?"
"Because I feel naked without it."
"Naked might do you good."
"Don't start," she warned him as they made their way out of the stream of pedestrian traffic to the relative quiet by the chain-link fence. "This'll only take a minute."
David watched her flick the phone open and muttered, "Beam me up, Scotty," under his breath.
"Augustine Textiles, Cynthia Augustine speaking."
Turning to watch a group of shrieking children race toward the merry-go-round, David grinned as their mother – Babysitter? Teacher? – yelled that Stuart was to keep hold of his little brother. The little brother in question was about four, wearing the remains of a candy apple, and swinging from the reins of a turquoise stallion. Stuart, his own Power Rangers t-shirt none too clean, solved the problem by simply sitting on the smaller child and ignoring all protests.
"Cute kids."
"Where?" Cynthia glanced toward the merry-go-round and frowned. "I wonder who does those banners. We could prob..." The phone rang again before she finished. "Augustine Textiles, Cynthia Augustine speaking."
Not even remotely surprised that she'd seen the banners and not the kids, David waited until she disconnected then held out his hand.
"Aha." Triumphant, she passed the cell phone over. "You complain until you suddenly need to make a call and.... what are you doing!?"
He stuffed the battery into one of the outside pockets on his black leather knapsack and handed back the rest. "This is our day off. And that means we don't work."
Her eyes narrowed. "This is a recession. If the company goes under, that means you don't work."
"You have so little faith in your business that you can't leave it for a few hours?"
"Faith has nothing to do with business." She looked down at the useless plastic in her hand then up at the man who was not only the company's entire design department but also her best friend. "All right. For you. Two hours, then you give me back my battery."
David checked his watch. "Three, and I'll drive home so you can talk."
"Deal."
*
The fair mixed traditional agriculture and current trends. Ten feet from the ring where yearling beef cattle stood placidly beside their young handlers, a sign proclaimed that for a small fee attendees could have their picture and comments added to the fair's web page.
Farmers in co-op
He was ten percent certain he'd suffered irreparable brain damage at some point over the last couple of days.
"Dude?"
He turned to face the band. Maitland was scratching his ass but Gustav seemed to have a few questions. One question, actually.
"What the hell just happened?"
Lyra slipped her hand into his and Jack smiled. "We just made music."
Continuing to make music, they all lived happily ever after.
"Dude! I said no red M&Ms! What kind of a dumbass stage manager are you? Man, this show's been a total crap fest since Carson Daly left!"
More or less.
This is another title I really like. I think it's funny, and subtle, and not really subtle at all. This story contains my favourite line ever about...um... German sandals and may, quite possibly, be the strangest thing I've ever written. The story may, not just the line.
The fair is based on our local county fair, although we've never had a fortune teller and the cow-in-the-dress doorstop was actually at the summer craft show. Cynthia's reaction to Ferris wheels? My reaction to Ferris wheels.
I'm not one hundred percent positive, but I'm pretty sure that this is my first story where the characters use a cell phone. Kids, ask your parents what a tape deck is.
Symbols are a Percussion Instrument
Her cell phone rang just as they were passing through the gates. As the imperious trill rose over the noise of the fair and people turned to look, David Franklin put one hand over his eyes and sighed. "Cyn, why didn't you leave it in the car?"
"Are you nuts? Do you know how much this thing cost me?"
"Then why not leave it at home?"
"Because I feel naked without it."
"Naked might do you good."
"Don't start," she warned him as they made their way out of the stream of pedestrian traffic to the relative quiet by the chain-link fence. "This'll only take a minute."
David watched her flick the phone open and muttered, "Beam me up, Scotty," under his breath.
"Augustine Textiles, Cynthia Augustine speaking."
Turning to watch a group of shrieking children race toward the merry-go-round, David grinned as their mother – Babysitter? Teacher? – yelled that Stuart was to keep hold of his little brother. The little brother in question was about four, wearing the remains of a candy apple, and swinging from the reins of a turquoise stallion. Stuart, his own Power Rangers t-shirt none too clean, solved the problem by simply sitting on the smaller child and ignoring all protests.
"Cute kids."
"Where?" Cynthia glanced toward the merry-go-round and frowned. "I wonder who does those banners. We could prob..." The phone rang again before she finished. "Augustine Textiles, Cynthia Augustine speaking."
Not even remotely surprised that she'd seen the banners and not the kids, David waited until she disconnected then held out his hand.
"Aha." Triumphant, she passed the cell phone over. "You complain until you suddenly need to make a call and.... what are you doing!?"
He stuffed the battery into one of the outside pockets on his black leather knapsack and handed back the rest. "This is our day off. And that means we don't work."
Her eyes narrowed. "This is a recession. If the company goes under, that means you don't work."
"You have so little faith in your business that you can't leave it for a few hours?"
"Faith has nothing to do with business." She looked down at the useless plastic in her hand then up at the man who was not only the company's entire design department but also her best friend. "All right. For you. Two hours, then you give me back my battery."
David checked his watch. "Three, and I'll drive home so you can talk."
"Deal."
*
The fair mixed traditional agriculture and current trends. Ten feet from the ring where yearling beef cattle stood placidly beside their young handlers, a sign proclaimed that for a small fee attendees could have their picture and comments added to the fair's web page.
Farmers in co-op
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