From the bitter dry dregs of the long office afternoon. An email thread between Palinode and Schmutzie to show how well-suited they are to handle desk jobs.
Palinode says:
I miss you.
More on this story as it develops.
*
Schmutzie says:
I think I just threw up a little bit. (wink)
Will I know of the arrival of your [Amazon] order by a ticket in our mailbox?
*
Yes, the ticket in the mailbox should do the trick. I'm not sure that it will be there, but the Amazon package tracker said that my order had arrived in the city and was "out for delivery," which I take to be something like "out for justice" or "out for blood".
You threw up a little bit? Wink? I'm a little lost. Please explain why my declaration of missing you provokes barf and contraction of your eye sphincter.
*
It was saccharine, and I'm a heartless bitch. NO, I thought it was sweet. My [untyped noun]* keeps seeping out.
I may step out for a nip if the books aren't in the mailbox.
*
Sounds good. If you're out when I get home I'll curl up in a ball, hold the uncomprehending cats against my chest and wail out "She's gone, kitties! She's gone!" in between sobs, until you return.
*
That's healthy. I should try that.
*
You can try it out wherever you are. If you're out for a walk, you can clutch garbage cans or shrubs. Rend your clothes, or maybe just scream out for succor. Sweet succor, from the gods.
*
Can I post this on the internet?**
*I really don't know what she meant to type here. There are so many many possibilities.
**Too late. Mwaha.
6 comments:
I remember the noun, but I'm not going to reveal what it was, because it is SO much more disgusting this way.
One day, you two, your lives will make a fantasic fictional novel.
Because nobody would believe the things that you actualy say to each other have actualy been said.
Get it?
I'm clever.
Novel? Fuck that, it'll make a fantastic movie. I'm talking action blockbuster of the summer. Imagine the trailer:
"He was a man... bent over like Yoda. She... was one woman... with a traitorous cervix. Together they talked shit for fifty years... until one day... they fell forward mid-sentence into a plate of gravy".
"Soy gravy".
YES!! Sweet Zombie Jesus, yes. I would pay dearly for a palishcmutz/schmutzinode compilation. I look so forward to these. And we were due, methinks. (you totally had a bit of a Yoda thing going on there that first night! *snicker*)
your conversations are so romantic. i only hope that someday my husband will whisper such sweet nothings to me.
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