Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Water Song.

Never one to be known for impersonations, Daryll realized that in order to convince Trisha from accounting to go out on a date with him, he would need to pretend to be somebody else. It could be anybody, really, so long as it wasn't himself, and it would only need be for a handful of hours. At least until she'd said yes to their date; at least until he had tricked her into bed with him.

He decided to use a commanding personality. Someone strong and domineering, with a staggering gait and a smile so thin it could just as easily be a scowl. He thought for thirteen minutes before deciding on The Searchers John Wayne.

Unfortunately for Daryll, Trisha hated westerns. She hated deserts and she hated sand, she hated Arizona and she hated New Mexico. The sight of large, red rocks in old films made her uneasy, and the idea of riding horses to chase Indians made her visibly upset. Once, she even went so far as to poison a small cactus someone kept in their cubicle.

Almost seemingly unrelated: Trisha was a talented ventriloquist.

When Daryll finally worked up the nerve to ask Trisha out, he did so in a studly, cowboyesque drawl. Panicking, wide-eyed, not knowing what to do, Trisha grabbed a cup of water on her desk and began drinking from it furiously. With her hand, she made a mouth. Fluttering it open and closed, never once moving her lips, she sang to him: "No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

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