fandomtownies | The Boards, Saturday

Jon was depressed.

This was really nothing new, granted. The man who usually sat in the office at the Boards on Ssturday was generally a depressed sort of guy, and the one who was currently sitting there didn't really differ much in that regard.

There were really only a few differences. First, this one tended to suffer from a sort of general malaise, likely stemming from the fact that he was a massive dork and couldn't get a date. It was possible, too, that he was depressed because he'd woken up this morning not knowing where he was, with a black cat demanding food (which in and of itself was odd. Jon Arbuckle had never owned a cat) and a note saying that today was his day to work in this place. But mostly, this Jon was depressed because he was bored.

"I'm bored. Bored bored bored."

See?

That would probably change as soon as he realized there were costume racks in here.

[Jono has turned into Jon Arbuckle from Garfield Minus Garfield this weekend. So expect random outbursts of yelling at nobody in particular if you ping in today.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Veronica had woken up in a strange dormitory, with strange people, but there was one thing she knew: she had to practice for the performance, or that bitch Nina was going to be dancing the Black Swan. And screwing it up!

So rehearsal time it was!

She swanned in and barely bestowed a glance on the crew member before she was giving orders. "Get me an Evian. Chilled."

"Bored. Bored. Bo-"

Jon blinked up from his stupor. His bored, bored stupor. And kind of stared for a minute.

Nearly a full one, actually.

"Were you talking to me?" Don't blow this, Jon! Just because women never talk to you doesn't mean that freaking out is the proper response, here. Honest!

Just act smooth, Jon. Smooth. Like peanut butter. Like bacon grease. Maybe strained bacon grease, to get all the little crunchy bits out. Even if those were the best part... Right! Woman!

"Well, hello."

Smooth, Jon.

"Do you see anyone else I could be talking to?" Veronica rolled her eyes, then smiled sweetly. You had to be nice to the crew, or they could light you to look like a hag... within limits. "Water? Pleeease?" She started putting on eyeliner and asked, "Is the director here yet?"

"Water, right!" And then started Jon's mad scramble to find water for the pretty woman. Water. Water had to be here somewhere. Where would people put water? In the fridge? No, that would be too obvious. In the sink? Water from the sink was perfectly fine, wasn't it?

But she'd asked for something with a fancy brand name! And now she was asking more questions! Jon took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself by slicking back his hair. It was moments like that that he wished that he'd put on his fancy green checkered suit with the red and yellow polka-dotted bowtie.

"I haven't seen anybody else here today, but I'm here, Miss."

The eyebrow waggle. That would win a lady over every time. Probably.

He liked to think it would.

Still no water, though.

What was with this dork? Veronica gave him a stern look. Because hey. No stalking her. She would cut this doofus if he tried that.

"And you are?" Veronica bitchied at him. "...aside from the person not getting me my water?"

The yellow polka-dotted bowtie would have gotten howls of laughter. So.. it was a good thing he didn't have it? Maybe?

Edited 2012-03-10 21:49 (UTC)

Jon probably would have taken laughter as a sort of encouragement. If she was laughing at him, she wasn't walking out on him. Or throwing her food in his face. Or sticking bottles of ketchup up his nostrils.

"Jon Arbuckle," he introduced, patting down his pockets for his little black book. No dice. No matter, he'd just have to resort to asking out every woman in the phone book again, if he couldn't get her number before she left. "And I work here today!"

Wasn't that exciting?

"I don't actually care," Veronica went back to applying her make-up. "Except about my water." She glared at him in the mirror. "Chop chop, lamb-chop!"

Oh look. A pet name.

Edited 2012-03-10 21:57 (UTC)

"Oh! Oh, right! Yes, of course!" A beat, and then he was scrambling out of the room. A moment later he peeked his head back in, tried to look as suave as possible, and, still without any water in his hands, he had to ask. "And then after, maybe you'd be interested in going out for dinner, too?"

Look, a guy had to at least try.

Disbelief. "Look. Jack, was it?" Veronica snorted. Very un-ballerina-like. "I have four hours of practice ahead of me, after which I'll be resting and eating half an avocado, prosciutto, and some crackers. I don't 'go out' to dinner, I maintain my weight on a strict regimen that doesn't include junk food." She sneered. "So what do you think?"

Was he brain-damaged? Or just very very dim? Wait. "You're a masochist, aren't you?"

"Do you want me to be?"

He didn't even miss a beat, there.

"Sure." She could work with this. "If you get me my water, and don't let that cow Nina into the theater. She's got no business being here anyway, the wuss."

"Done and done!"

Jon had no idea who that was! But he'd do it! She'd just agreed to go out with him! On a date! For water!

It was entirely possible that he was whistling by the time he came back into the room, bottle of water in hand. Give him a few minutes, and he might even think to ask his date-to-be her name!

Oh, she was so soaking this guy for a decent meal -- albeit healthy and low-calorie-- and if he asked her name, well. He wouldn't get her real one.

... if he ever got back with her water.

Which he had, a moment ago!

But that was okay. Most women tended to look right through Jon, anyhow. He cleared his throat from the doorway, and then went into what he figured was a steep, debonair bow.

"Your water, Miss!"

Mostly he just succeeded in tearing the seat of his pants.

Well that was appalling. Veronica gave him a withering look, and took the water, checking to make sure it was the right kind.

"You can leave. To change clothes. Now, Jim."

It wasn't the right kind. Jon did not come from a world that had different kinds of water, Veronica. Take it or leave it.

Either way, Jon was blushing pretty brightly, lips pulled back in a sort of terrified rictus of a smile, as he backed toward the staircase that led back upstairs, where there would be clothing that, with any luck, wouldn't have the bum torn out of them.

Jon was running like hell.

Run, Jon, run! ... because Veronica now wants to make you pay for getting her the wrong water, too!

The Boards, Saturday

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject