(no subject)
Sheldon had been standing underneath a sprig of mistletoe for nearly an hour.
It had taken more than one person happening by and explaining the functionality of the magically hostile plant for him to even begin to find some plausibility in the notion, at which point he had actually clapped his hand over his mouth lest some ill-advised good samaritan attempt to free him without his consent.
Time ticked by. He looked at his watch. And began to seriously consider the potential consequences of being stuck here for an indeterminate amount of time. Weighing the horror of lip-to-lip contact versus the horror of wetting himself in a doorway.
Wolowitz, he thought, would love it here.
He leaned his head back against the door frame. He had really, honestly thought that there was no place in the world he could hate more than Texas.
It had taken more than one person happening by and explaining the functionality of the magically hostile plant for him to even begin to find some plausibility in the notion, at which point he had actually clapped his hand over his mouth lest some ill-advised good samaritan attempt to free him without his consent.
Time ticked by. He looked at his watch. And began to seriously consider the potential consequences of being stuck here for an indeterminate amount of time. Weighing the horror of lip-to-lip contact versus the horror of wetting himself in a doorway.
Wolowitz, he thought, would love it here.
He leaned his head back against the door frame. He had really, honestly thought that there was no place in the world he could hate more than Texas.