Snow White faces the Real World.

[giftapfel]

One more week and then I'm done forever with screaming French chefs, managing nineteen year olds, coddling those same new kids when they chop off a fingertip, aquiring debt, and spending hours redoing mise en place.

Now the question I have left, is what in the world am I going to do with it all?

Comments

[pappybear]

Oh fine. What about a Lifetime made for TV movie produced by Oprah?

[giftapfel]

I was thinking about Babbo.

You're in an awfully good mood, Sir.

[pappybear]

Believe it's becoming a habit.

Not going to tell anyone, are you?

[giftapfel]

Promise.

How did you catch this horrid affliction?

[pappybear]

Just lucky I guess.

[giftapfel]

It isn't contagious is it?

[....]

[Private David]

Sorry about that, had to take the cheese straws out of the oven.

So why so happy? How are your meetings going?

[pappybear]

God, I hope so.

[Edie]
The meetings are going well, once you get past Crosby's 'dude chill' motto on life you can put up with anything.

[...] Judge is making a ruling next month, Edie. It's no use telling you how scared I am.

Private David.

[giftapfel]

Yeah, he isn't that bad.

If the judge has any sense you'll get at least partial custody, Aileen is a fucking bitch, and even I can see that. I don't think she can hide that even with her veneered smile, you know?

I don't think you should have anything to worry about. If you need to get out though, I'm about to have a lot more free time on my hands.

Private to Edie.

[pappybear]

She's not so ba Yeah.

I might just take you up on that offer, what with me going insane with cheerfulness.

David.

[giftapfel]

Of course. It'll be nice to see you smile for once.

Speaking of smiles, what does the birthday boy want this year as opposed to his traditional bottle of Glenlivet?

Edie.

[pappybear]

Shit, I forgot all about that.

Birthday boy's got a party at Miles' apartment to go to and demands that one Edith Steinlen come along for moral support.

David.

[giftapfel]

When is this party, Mr. David Gwynn Fisher?

Edie.

[pappybear]

Ha ha.

[A good fifteen minutes later as David searches through his Compendium.]

Jesus. I can't find where Miles wrote the time. Must be getting old.

David.

[giftapfel]

You're not old, Sir. These things just move too fast for anyone to keep up with.

Call him and find out, I'd be happy to escort you as long as you don't leave me stranded. Though that hardly qualifies as a gift, anything else on your wish list besides the usual supper? Or do I have to get creative?

Edie.

[pappybear]

Yeah, especially old fogies. However, I'll phone Miles later on today.

Scotch Not a thing.

David.

[giftapfel]

Creative route it is then.

Let me know the time and details on...Saturday.