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Post by olive on Aug 6, 2009 15:47:13 GMT -5
Petunia's Prized Poodle Paralyzed!
Thursday, August 6th: tragedy strikes the home of Rosemary Petunia, proud owner of popular floral boutique Petunia's Petunias, as prized poodle Picadilly, pride and joy of Seattle, WA, lies paralyzed!
Picadilly was assaulted by an automobile in a brutal hit-and-run on the evening of Wednesday the 5th. Assailant has not been acquiesced, but authorities assure fans that all is being done to apprehend him. Fans speculate that attack was not an accident, but an assassination attempt by angered arch-rival, Archibald Augustine... [/color] "This stinks!" Declared one Olive Minkowski, slamming her pen down in frustration. "Like, how am I supposed to get on the front page when this is the best I have?! I interviewed like...three whole people so far...and the best I've got is a paralyzed poodle?! That won't ever make the front page!"
In fact, Olive had even less than a story about a paralyzed poodle, as nearly everything about it was false.
The dog upon which the account was based was not named Picadilly, nor was he prize-winning, paralyzed, or even a poodle at all, but a golden retriever named Lolly. The owner was not named Petunia Rosemary, or Rosemary Petunia, or anything at all having to do with flowers or herbs, but Virginia Dilcott, and she was an orthodontist. She had no arch-rivals and never had entered Lolly in any type of contest, but she could make a mean apple pie.
But being that she had so little to work with (the woman was in a hurry to get her dog from the vet and scarcely said anything else), Olive was proud of her story, and soon accepted it as fact. But liking it and believing it would not change the fact that people thought poodles were boring, and so it would never make the front page, and so Olive was sinking into a temporary depression which could only be cured by inhaling tons and tons of french fries.
"Like, not even alliteration could save this story! Ugh!" The young blonde told her companion, and promptly poured him over her french fries, for she had been venting to a ketchup bottle. |
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Aug 7, 2009 7:51:54 GMT -5
It was hard to say when it began, but Eiji was slowly, or at a pace similar to slow, beginning to edge back into his old skin. Of course he could go places without Elliot, it wasn't like he needed her to hold his hand, or like he was afraid of what could happen if he wasn't around her; but she made things a little more comfortable, and in the weeks previous, he wasn't too willing to leave the penthouse without her. Today, not only did he come out into town on his own accord, but he was wearing a small smile as he sat in his friend's mother's diner.
Charlotte was taking a much needed rest from the register, and while he loved talking to her (she wasn't his mother, no, but he liked so much how she always told him to brush back his hair out of his eyes and to not play with his food), he had insisted he didn't need anymore company, not with the diner filling up at the rate it was with lunch nearing. Instead, she was somewhere in the back office, balancing the books or something equally suicide inducing; for him anyway, but she promised him she'd be back out before the rush began, wrists intact.
He passed his time helping out the girls who were waiting tables, even braving an apron around his waist while profusely hoping that Tristan, Draco, Eve or any of his friends wouldn't walk in just so he could avoid the gay jokes. As he worked, his thoughts flew to Angela and her baby, to Elliot, to his friends, to what he was going to do after Christmas break; anything but the cause of his change all those months ago. It was better this way; while he hadn't yet come to peace with it, with himself, he was trying anyway and his best foot forward seemed to be enough.
His smiles and manner were slight, but he was polite and subtly charming to leave the regular old ladies swooning. Eiji approached a booth near the front of the diner, hearing the commotion before he saw the occupant. A wry, amused look passed over his face as he glanced at the top of her head, bent over a bowl of fries, to the discarded pen and paper.
"Can I get you anything else?" he interrupted, appearing as amiable as he could be.
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Post by olive on Aug 7, 2009 18:59:50 GMT -5
Ever ladylike, Olive shoved a handful of fries into her mouth and chewed contemplatively, pondering the possibility of more french fries. Though she hadn't yet finished her first order, she felt as if it was going to be a long, uneventful day, and on long, uneventful days, she required enough fries to feed an elephant.
"Uh, yeah, I think I'll have another order?" She answered as politely as she could manage, offering the boy a forced smile. She nearly snapped that she'd like a good cover story, but obviously those weren't on the menu, oh, ever, but he was cute and he seemed nice, so she would vent to her ketchup, instead.
But as she stared thoughtfully at the boy, she noticed something, or rather, two somethings. The first was that he looked entirely out-of-place in that apron; he looked much too pretty, and it looked much too plain. She supposed he probably didn't really work there, being as immaculate as he was, and he was only pretending to, perhaps due to his unusual fondness for aprons.Apron Thief Strikes Again! No, that simply wouldn't do!
But luckily, there was the something else about him, and that would brighten her demeanor considerably: he looked familiar. It took her a moment, but...
"EIJI ALMASY!" She realized, so loudly that she startled some of the diners nearby.
"Omigosh, I know you! You went to our school, you're like, totally famous! I knew a girl who knew a girl who knew a girl who was on my floor - Sylvia McCormick, you remember? - who was totally obsessed with you! In fact, I think she still is!"
She lowered her voice so that not everyone in the establishment could hear her, and, eyes wide with awe, revealed:
"She said you can go for six. hours."
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Aug 12, 2009 1:01:15 GMT -5
It wasn't that he was famous or anything, that he had to flinch when she yelled his name; it was more that he wasn't infamous yet, just another expensive carbon-copy face in the crowd, still somewhat anonymous that he could go by without all his misadventures and bad habits making the front cover of papers and magazines. On this continent anyway; it wasn't the same story back in his native world of Europe. Both his parents were a little too high-profile, his father one out of One Hundred Men of the Century according to both Times and Forbes, and his mother the pitied footnote in every article regarding his family.
He'd learned from a young age to duck and run if he was recognized in public, and for a split second while facing this girl, that same urge pressed at him until it was noticeable in the creases of his eyes, the stiffness in his movement. It would have been strange if he'd bolted though, and if he was being rational, it wasn't anywhere near possible that the girl with the bowl full of fried knew him for all the right reasons. The more she talked, the less stricken he felt, and slowly, without even being aware of it, an amused grin was working its way onto his face. Six hours? Well, it certainly wasn't the worst thing he'd heard about himself.
Eiji shrugged, a casual acknowledgment of her rumor, because while he wasn't going to confirm anything she said, he certainly wasn't any less full of himself to deny it either.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, in that public, I'm-a-total-sweetheart-I-could-never-be-a-jerk tone of voice, "I don't think I know who you're talking about."
And he really hoped the person she knew wasn't fifteen or something, because he would feel like the biggest creep alive if girls as young as that were devoting their time to thinking he was their end all. It really wasn't as fun as most guys liked to think it was.
"So another serve of fries?" he repeated, trying to get back on track and avoid the sudden attention and finger-pointing he was receiving. Oh, not from the patrons; how many times had he strolled into the place tripping out, wearing yesterday's clothes and sometimes doing positively embarrassing things with either Kenneth, Draco or Elliot? It left most employees, Charlotte, and regulars less starstruck than they started off with. It was weird, being regarded in the way he was then, by this girl, and while he didn't enjoy it, he couldn't say it was all bad.
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Post by olive on Aug 13, 2009 21:11:32 GMT -5
Olive's fries sat ignored as she set to work scribbling down notes on her notepad, little meaningless things like "yes, he really is that tall" that would be hardly useful in a story. It seemed, by her excited fidgeting and constant glancing-at-her-ketchup-bottle, that she wanted to gossip with someone, only there was no one around, and Eiji was too close by for her to continue conversing with condiments. The notepad took it's place, as no one really knew what it was she was writing, and she was sure some girl on her floor would be happy to hear her findings later that evening.
In paying so much attention to Eiji, she was ignoring him, and when he said "sorry," she jumped slightly and regarded him curiously. She shrugged off the apology at first, and continued scribbling "possibly steals aprons from unsuspecting restraunt owners, but very charming," but immediately after she completed the last comma, she froze. Her cheeks flushed red in embarassment, and she childishly sank down into her seat. Could it be that he meant that she had mistaken his identity, not that he didn't know Sylvia?
"Wh-what?"
Her thoughts were racing as she tentatively poked her fries with one finger. Did she mistake him? Did anyone see? Of course they saw, she practically yelled his name! Hopefully no one recognized her...her reputation could be ruined! She could see the headlines now: 'Formerly respected reporter-slash-journalist, desparate for story, filed with harassment...'
She sank a little further down, eyes level with the top of the table, worriedly finger-smearing ketchup all over her fries.
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Aug 25, 2009 4:28:39 GMT -5
So she was a little odd; and when he meant a little, he really meant a lot. He couldn't understand a single thing she was doing; was she writing down her order for him? He didn't think another serve of fries was too hard to remember, or that there was a customer in existence who was nice enough to take their own orders. A dubious look passed over his face when she wasn't looking at him, but his expression smoothed over not a moment later because he wasn't so rude as to reveal that he thought her to be strange.
However, even with all the weird things she was doing, even with her abrupt outbursts and random tidbits of information, it wasn't hard to recognize her sudden case of embarrassment. Was it something he said? Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to suggest more food for a tween girl; she probably thought he was trying to make a pass at her nonexistent weight. Eiji bent down a little, waving a hand in front of her face, and then leaning in a little closer so she could properly see him, if she was looking.
"Hey," he said, a curtness to the word, trying to get her attention, "are you all right?"
He thought of how Angela went into labor in the very same diner; he didn't think Charlotte needed anymore people passing out or breaking their waters.
"Maybe you want a milkshake instead?" he asked, unusually coaxing; he was forgetting she was just a girl, and if anything, he'd do whatever it had to in order to handle the situation with care.
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Post by olive on Sept 5, 2009 13:15:08 GMT -5
Holy cows! I had a 90% finished post saved on my computer and I forgot all about it! Sorry sorry! D:
The too-nice apron-stealer who was not Eiji Almasy was really pushing her buttons! Her brows were knit together in frustration, her lips pouting, as she glared at him an icy glare. Normally, she was called 'fairly pretty,' but now, now, she was feeling so many unpleasant emotions that trying to express them made her look like rather like a bulldog.
"Am I all right? Am I all right?!" She snapped once she remembered speech. "You must be kidding! Clearly I'm having the worst day in my whole life!"
She shoved a handful of fries into her mouth and chewed furiously, getting ketchup all over her face in the process.
"Don't you know who I am?! I'm only the greatest reporter-slash-journalist of all time! And now, my reputation is ruined!"
She tried licking the ketchup off her face with her tongue, but alas, she could not reach. She used the back of her hand, instead, and triumphantly licked the ketchup off it.
"All cause you're just some boring old apron-stealer!"
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Sept 15, 2009 6:08:43 GMT -5
He thought he was being patronizing, perhaps that was why she was glaring at him like that. Did the milkshake line not go down well? Was she closer to fifteen and not twelve? He remembered being that old and not liking it when people thought they could treat him like some average kid. In fact, he still hated it; Eiji Almasy was never simply just average.
Eiji winced as a response and backed away a little. Asking her something redundant must have been a mistake too. For a moment, he wondered if he was really so out of touch with people, with girls, that he could no longer charm all of them into smiles and generally brighter dispositions. He refused to believe that was the case; being domesticated and dealing with other, less happy shit, didn't always equate to sudden social retardation.
Standing fully when she started licking herself, Eiji paused for a moment, letting her continue with her rant; she probably needed it, even if he had no idea what she was yelling about. Some of the customers were even craning to look at his table, and the cute waitress he made Tristan keep around, was gesturing to the back office, wordlessly asking if he needed Charlotte. He shook his head once and waved low a negative; he didn't want to bother her, and plus, he totally had this.
The decision to join her at her booth was sudden, made last minute based on the gut feeling that it would do her some good, somehow. Thankfully, his side of the table was clean, and he could rest his elbows on the tabletop without the niggling need to wipe at the surface; he definitely didn't want to offend her.
"Whatsup?" he asked her, the uncustomary question from an 'employee' spilling from him like anything else he said; naturally, fluidly. His smile was mild and he decided not to say anything about how she looked more like an angry child, in need of a parent to clean them up; she wouldn't appreciate it, plus, he kind of liked her.
"And I didn't steal this apron," he added, "my friend's mum owns this place. I'm only helping out."
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Post by olive on Sept 30, 2009 11:31:13 GMT -5
Eiji didn't seem to know who she was. Neither did any of the customers who were craning their heads for a better look at the commotion. But she thought she said enough already! Why, she practically gave it away, though the diner-dwellers seemed to live in holes cut off from the rest of the world, and when it was practically given away, she might as well give it away once and for all!
"I'm Olive Lynette Minkowski. The fifth." She told Eiji snappishly when he invited himself to sit with her. "Like, only the most famous and sought-after and world-known reporter-slash-journalist of all time!" From her pocket she pulled a pair of thick, glassless black glasses, and put them on so they hung off the tip of her nose. Those were the glasses she wore not for reading or seeing, as her vision was perfect, but when she thought herself on the trail of a very important story. She looked around the room expectantly, as if expecting everyone to suddenly realize there was a celebrity in their midst. To her confusion, not a single jaw had dropped.
"And you just ruined my reputation!" She accused, crossing her arms over her chest and hmph-ing. She ignored him for a few moments, until she realized he claimed not to be an apron-stealer, to which she shouted "A likely story!"
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Oct 7, 2009 10:08:11 GMT -5
"I'm sorry?" he offered, not too particular about the fact that it was more a question than a real apology. The girl was confusing, stark-raving mad for all he'd seen so far; if he wasn't the kind to keep his mouth shut, sometimes, when he had nothing good to say, which was almost always, then he probably would have let her know. As it was, he didn't pity her, mostly because he didn't think she'd like that too much, rather, he was kind of taken by her, enough to at least try to make her feel less upset.
"I'm Eiji Almasy, the first. And probably the last, and not really a reporter. Certainly not as important as you are," he told her, handing her a napkin in a discreet manner, instead of proffering her his hand in greeting. That could come later. He'd walk her to the bathroom if she showed any indication of wanting to shake his hand right away.
"I didn't mean to make your day worse, Olive," he said, sounding sincere this time, "if it makes you feel any better, I'll buy the next round. I really do know the owner of this diner. She's a real nice lady. Her son's a good friend of mine."
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Post by olive on Nov 9, 2009 8:26:22 GMT -5
Flattery was Olive's one true weakness, and she couldn't help but crack a smile when he reminded her of just how important she was. She decided in that moment that she would forgive him; surely he didn't know what he was doing or who he was addressing, and he had promised milkshakes. And he was like, really cute, and even if he told lies, she might be able to get a good story out of him sometime.
And like...really cute.
She accepted the napkin and wiped off her hands, offering Eiji a cheerful smile. "Thank you. And I forgive you." She said politely, before getting to the point. "Do you have chocolate with a cherry on top?"
She swung her legs happily under the table as she daydreamed up the perfect milkshake. She never had anyone buy anything for her before, unless they were family, and so she was rather excited. Certainly not from a boy...wait. Wasn't there a rule about boys buying girls things?
Was this a date?!
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Nov 16, 2009 23:05:09 GMT -5
Eiji grinned at the change in Olive's mood, feeling like he'd accomplished something during his day by making someone else feel better; because simply volunteering his time at his friend's mother's diner totally didn't count.
"Of course," he answered promptly, "hold on a second."
He beckoned over a passing waitress and told her the order; a chocolate milkshake with a cherry on top, and another for him with skim milk and no cherries, extra cream.
He returned his attention to her, looking polite once more, especially through watching the different thoughts play over her face. Thankfully, and he really would thank every God for this, he wasn't privy to what she was thinking, and he figured that he didn't want to be either. Olive was a strange girl; nice, but unusual.
"So, what are you reporting? Am I allowed to know your story?" he asked, kind of curious because he could be a little nosy sometimes, and plus, the girl had self-declared her importance and he wanted to know what it was that made her say and believe it.
"Is it 'confidential'?"
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Post by olive on Nov 30, 2009 20:26:43 GMT -5
Confidential? Olive furrowed her brow in concentration. Confidential. Where had she heard that word before? It was kind of...big. She tried sounding it out in her head - con-fid-en-tial - but it didn't seem to help. She glanced at Eiji helplessly. Should she ask him? Should she pretend she knew what it meant?
No, she couldn't ask him. He'd think she was like, stupid or something! She couldn't fake it either, cause he might figure it out! She'd just have to find out what it meant!
A con is like a lie. She realized, trying to break the word into easier-to-understand pieces. Wait, does he think I'm making the story up?! No no WAIT! Confide is like when you tell someone something. Well like, of course I'm gonna tell people it...so like...oh! He's asking if it's a secret!
"I get it![/b]" She blurted, before she could realize she was thinking outloud. The waitress looked at her strangely as she went to fetch their milkshakes, and Olive was left staring sheepishly at her french fries.
"I mean like...no, it's not confidential. I mean like, just don't go telling everyone before I publish it cause then there's totally no point in publishing it." Olive slid the notepad toward him and pointed to 'Petunia's Prized Poodle Paralyzed!' "It's not very good, but it's the best thing I have today." The first thing, really. That apron story turned out to be a real miss.[/color]
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Post by Eiji Almasy. on Jan 10, 2010 23:58:59 GMT -5
The bemused look on his face could not be played off, no matter how good he was at controlling his expressions. He couldn't remember girls being this weird when he was at that age - thirteen, fourteen, fifteen? He couldn't be too sure how old Olive was, but then, he supposed that he also actually only had one recollection of any girl from that age and that was of Estelle, his kind-of-then-later-on-for-real girlfriend.
Attempting to ignore her outburst, he accepted the notepad and began reading her article. It was a far cry from the girl sitting in front of him. Olive had that terrible tendency that most teenage girls did; talking like a teenage girl. She wasn't nearly as obnoxious as others he had met, but the article was kind of in English and readable, something he could honestly say he hadn't expected.
"No, it is good," he told her, nodding to emphasize his point; and he grinned too.
"It's really entertaining. I like it. Did Archibald Augustine really try to kill Picadilly?"
While he wasn't used to actively talking to female adolescents (and he sounded so old saying that), talking to Olive wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. He figured all it took was absolutely no bullshit and not too much sincerity so as not to appear cheesy. Plus, he figured he was just good with kids or something; he literally had a million cousins to interact with every holiday or impromptu visit back home.
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Post by olive on Jan 16, 2010 13:17:42 GMT -5
"Like, of course he did! I mean, it says it right there!" Olive insisted, pointing pointedly at the villain's name. "And I got it from a very reliable source - none other than Rosemary Petunia herself!"
She jumped to her feet, hands raised, ready to illustrate just what really happened.
"He was driving along in his big fancy car he got from getting second place in all those dog shows," She started, steering an invisible steering wheel, "And he just so happened to find Rosemary Petunia and Picadilly walking down the street! Picadilly saw the vile villain and bravely barked - ow owww! - a warning to Rosemary Petunia. She gasped in horror and tried to run into a red-roofed rug store, because there's no road in stores so like, how could he follow them? But alas," Her hand flew dramatically to her forehead, "Their efforts were in vain! The villain's voluminous wheel struck Picadilly as he fled!"
She held her side as if just hit by a car, a pained expression spread across her face. "Poor Picadilly...then that coward Archibald Augustine drove right away! And that's how it went!"
She curtsied to the diners who were staring at her, and plopped back into her seat, her rendition complete.
"I'm like...all my stories are straight from the horses nose! One-hundred-percent factual!" Olive told Eiji, picking at her fries again. "I don't do that tabloid stuff, like, where they just write rumours on paper and make it sound all mean and sell it to everyone! I know that the people deserve to know the truth, and that's just what I give them!"
All reporter-slash-journalists should really be more like me! She thought to herself proudly.
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