it was the best of timing. it was the worst of timing.
Today I helped my friend Brittany with her film project. She has to make a three minute action sequence. I went with her to Wal*Mart to pick out an air gun for Mendeley to use to hold up a gas station during the shoot before fleeing the scene of the crime and hiding in the back seat of my car. There he waits for me to come along so he can issue driving instructions in a threatening voice while holding me at gunpoint. Tomorrow I will be angrily directed to a field and shot down while taking flight from my captor. I really hope it goes well.
In between filming and reviewing the footage I went home to make dinner. Knowing Mikey would be coming home today, I thought it’d be nice to at least take out the trash that had made its way to the pail. Returning from the dumpster, I was unhappy to find that I had locked myself out with the oven on. My panic lead to unreasonable behavior. “Shit! Shit! What am I going to do?” I asked at top volume into the void. I then attempted to break the door down. I soon realized that this was perhaps not the most prudent course of action. I dashed to the upstairs apartment to warn my neighbors of their impending doom if they could not immediately provide me with the landlord’s phone number. Pounding on the door with my left hand, I flipped open my phone with my right and dialed a friend who has the same landlord. While on the phone, I ran downstairs praying that I had left my keys out in my car. They weren’t there. When who should arrive to save the day? Mikey, back from Spring Break in the nick of time.
I then went back to Mendeley’s to see Brittany’s footage. It looks promising so far. Afterwards, instead of going home and working on my neglected homework, I stayed to watch Shaun of the Dead. When I eventually came back to my apartment, I was tired from the day’s excitement and feeling a little caught up in the spirit of the zombie movie. Getting milk out of the refrigerator, I noticed the container of fake blood Mikey had used for one of his films that he had decided to save for some event that might require half a gallon of imitation hemoglobin. Trying my best to be quiet about it, I took the blood to the bathroom and applied it liberally to my face. This, I thought, is going to be good. Turning my right foot inward to induce a limp, I staggered with arms outstretched into the living room to give Mikey an unexpected laugh at my ghoulish appearance.
No reaction.
No reaction why?
Mikey wasn’t home. My cat cast a disinterested eye at my display and shuffled discretely out of the room to spare me further embarrassment. I washed the mess from my face and decided that I had better write this before going to bed so I can at least go to sleep with the satisfaction that my ill-fortuned practical joke could be shared to some degree. That being said, goodnight.
In between filming and reviewing the footage I went home to make dinner. Knowing Mikey would be coming home today, I thought it’d be nice to at least take out the trash that had made its way to the pail. Returning from the dumpster, I was unhappy to find that I had locked myself out with the oven on. My panic lead to unreasonable behavior. “Shit! Shit! What am I going to do?” I asked at top volume into the void. I then attempted to break the door down. I soon realized that this was perhaps not the most prudent course of action. I dashed to the upstairs apartment to warn my neighbors of their impending doom if they could not immediately provide me with the landlord’s phone number. Pounding on the door with my left hand, I flipped open my phone with my right and dialed a friend who has the same landlord. While on the phone, I ran downstairs praying that I had left my keys out in my car. They weren’t there. When who should arrive to save the day? Mikey, back from Spring Break in the nick of time.
I then went back to Mendeley’s to see Brittany’s footage. It looks promising so far. Afterwards, instead of going home and working on my neglected homework, I stayed to watch Shaun of the Dead. When I eventually came back to my apartment, I was tired from the day’s excitement and feeling a little caught up in the spirit of the zombie movie. Getting milk out of the refrigerator, I noticed the container of fake blood Mikey had used for one of his films that he had decided to save for some event that might require half a gallon of imitation hemoglobin. Trying my best to be quiet about it, I took the blood to the bathroom and applied it liberally to my face. This, I thought, is going to be good. Turning my right foot inward to induce a limp, I staggered with arms outstretched into the living room to give Mikey an unexpected laugh at my ghoulish appearance.
No reaction.
No reaction why?
Mikey wasn’t home. My cat cast a disinterested eye at my display and shuffled discretely out of the room to spare me further embarrassment. I washed the mess from my face and decided that I had better write this before going to bed so I can at least go to sleep with the satisfaction that my ill-fortuned practical joke could be shared to some degree. That being said, goodnight.