VICTORY, IT TASTES SO SWEET.
WHO: Valen. Other vendors welcome as well~! (Open to anyone looking for a good deal.)
WHEN: Saturday morning, 8:30 AM. (Hours: 7 AM - 12 PM)
WHERE: The goddamn swap meet.
WHAT: Shopping and futbol (and somehow espionage).
RATING: Parental Advisory for Valen's mouth.
There were a number of reasons that today could have been a bad day. It was cold and cloudy, for one thing, because Liberty had jacked up weather that wouldn't know the seasons even if you taped a goddamn calendar to its face. Valen's ankle was still swollen from kicking some major ass just a few days ago and she hadn't really felt like getting up to go to work, even though her 'host family' had assured her that puttin' some ice on that and drinkin' some Esprite would magically heal it in time for Saturday. She couldn't even watch today's football game because she had to come help set up the stall at 6:30, which sucked because she was still pumped up about Uruguay kicking Mexico's ass and advancing at the top of their group.
But today couldn't have been better. Screw the sales, she had hassled her neighbor's stall (Guadalupe was known for having a radio that could pick up CSPN) all morning until he had finally switched it to the World Cup broadcast. Every time Suarez scored a goal, she shrieked and grappled Guad in a bear hug, no matter what he was doing or who he was talking to, and started shouting at any passerbys demanding to know their exact paternity; the one time that Korea actually managed to score, she spent the next ten minutes glowering at anyone who dared to come near the stall and muttering vehemently under her breath.
Needless to say, she didn't get much inventory sold within the first 90 minutes of the morning. She was calmed down now that the match was over and in a much pleasanter mood, despite having to hobble around with most of her weight on one leg, but it was apparent that she was still brimming with residue adrenaline from the enthusiastic way that she accosted all of her customers to regale them with the news of Uruguay's victory.
Play by play.
In Spanish.
WHEN: Saturday morning, 8:30 AM. (Hours: 7 AM - 12 PM)
WHERE: The goddamn swap meet.
WHAT: Shopping and futbol (and somehow espionage).
RATING: Parental Advisory for Valen's mouth.
There were a number of reasons that today could have been a bad day. It was cold and cloudy, for one thing, because Liberty had jacked up weather that wouldn't know the seasons even if you taped a goddamn calendar to its face. Valen's ankle was still swollen from kicking some major ass just a few days ago and she hadn't really felt like getting up to go to work, even though her 'host family' had assured her that puttin' some ice on that and drinkin' some Esprite would magically heal it in time for Saturday. She couldn't even watch today's football game because she had to come help set up the stall at 6:30, which sucked because she was still pumped up about Uruguay kicking Mexico's ass and advancing at the top of their group.
But today couldn't have been better. Screw the sales, she had hassled her neighbor's stall (Guadalupe was known for having a radio that could pick up CSPN) all morning until he had finally switched it to the World Cup broadcast. Every time Suarez scored a goal, she shrieked and grappled Guad in a bear hug, no matter what he was doing or who he was talking to, and started shouting at any passerbys demanding to know their exact paternity; the one time that Korea actually managed to score, she spent the next ten minutes glowering at anyone who dared to come near the stall and muttering vehemently under her breath.
Needless to say, she didn't get much inventory sold within the first 90 minutes of the morning. She was calmed down now that the match was over and in a much pleasanter mood, despite having to hobble around with most of her weight on one leg, but it was apparent that she was still brimming with residue adrenaline from the enthusiastic way that she accosted all of her customers to regale them with the news of Uruguay's victory.
Play by play.
In Spanish.