(no subject)
Mac was facing off against the clothing box. Again. You'd think that eventually it would have given up, but apparently not. "I am almost positive we've had this conversation before," she said to it, cross-legged in front, pulling clothing down. "Me and thongs are not friends."
The clothing box apparently didn't agree, because she just pulled down more. "Neither are mini-skirts, really," Mac said, peering up into the box. "If you could just give me a pair of jeans or shorts and maybe a t-shirt, I'll leave you to your business."
The contents didn't change.
"Oh, well, in that case," Mac said, reaching in. "I suppose this is war."
[It'd be a great time to meet Mac, and old friends (or nemeses) are always welcome.]
The clothing box apparently didn't agree, because she just pulled down more. "Neither are mini-skirts, really," Mac said, peering up into the box. "If you could just give me a pair of jeans or shorts and maybe a t-shirt, I'll leave you to your business."
The contents didn't change.
"Oh, well, in that case," Mac said, reaching in. "I suppose this is war."
[It'd be a great time to meet Mac, and old friends (or nemeses) are always welcome.]