Drabbles A-go-go
26. Heat
"Fuck!" I yell, shaking my right hand, trying to make the pain go away. Not for the first time I ask myself why I insist on welding without proper gloves. I look at my hand and see an angry red blister appearing where I accidentally brushed it against a fresh weld. Luckily there are only a few more beads to lay before I'm finished, so I ignore the pain and go back to my project. I don't have long before someone discovers I don't actually have clearance into this metal shop, and then I'll have to dodge the real heat.
64.
No one in Boston knows how to make real tea. One would assume it has something to do with their little party they threw for us way back when. It just tastes wrong. Emma thinks I'm being pedantic when I complain about it, but really, their tea is terrible. I've visited just about every damn coffee shop in hopes one will serve me proper tea, but I'm giving up hope. In an effort to prove me wrong, Emma came home once with a bag and showed that Americans have at least one sort of tea right... Long Island Iced Tea.
53.
I've never been one to like pictures. Since I was a child, I've been photographed without my consent so often that I developed a distaste of them. If Father wasn't trying to show me off like a peacock, then the paparazzi were hoping to catch a glimpse of anything that will make a story. That theme continues to this day. At one point I did a bit of posing in a Nazi Uniform for a fancy dress party, hoping to cause a scandal, but Roger caught me before I could do any damage. I think he yelled 1000 words instead.
"Fuck!" I yell, shaking my right hand, trying to make the pain go away. Not for the first time I ask myself why I insist on welding without proper gloves. I look at my hand and see an angry red blister appearing where I accidentally brushed it against a fresh weld. Luckily there are only a few more beads to lay before I'm finished, so I ignore the pain and go back to my project. I don't have long before someone discovers I don't actually have clearance into this metal shop, and then I'll have to dodge the real heat.
64.
No one in Boston knows how to make real tea. One would assume it has something to do with their little party they threw for us way back when. It just tastes wrong. Emma thinks I'm being pedantic when I complain about it, but really, their tea is terrible. I've visited just about every damn coffee shop in hopes one will serve me proper tea, but I'm giving up hope. In an effort to prove me wrong, Emma came home once with a bag and showed that Americans have at least one sort of tea right... Long Island Iced Tea.
53.
I've never been one to like pictures. Since I was a child, I've been photographed without my consent so often that I developed a distaste of them. If Father wasn't trying to show me off like a peacock, then the paparazzi were hoping to catch a glimpse of anything that will make a story. That theme continues to this day. At one point I did a bit of posing in a Nazi Uniform for a fancy dress party, hoping to cause a scandal, but Roger caught me before I could do any damage. I think he yelled 1000 words instead.