Yesyesyes, she strikes again.
This morning I missed my bus. For about 30 seconds.
So far so good.
About a minute after I had reached the stop, guess who came whistling round the corner??? David everything-I-learned-for-life-I-learned-from-Harry-Houdini Finlay! If I had run for the bus (haha, fat chance!)we would have missed each other for some rediculous 57 seconds or so. Anyway, I had last heard of Dave on saturday two weeks ago when he called me to say he would be at my place at eight o'clock the latest and never showed up (a phenomenon that, as the detention board in the staff base teaches, is called "no-show", often accompanied by the word "again"). As I said, two weeks ago. No call, no mail, no message, no nothing; he could have flushed himself down the toilet this time for all I knew.
So this morning we were waiting for the bus together and I asked the (obvious) question: "So?". Pause. "David". Pause. "Whathappend?" Erso: "Happened to what?" I actually was expecting some highly inspired and elaborate answer like "Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss Fleck, the darndest thing; I had to take my Grandmother to South America, cause she's ill and needed a special treatment consisting of some ointment which can only be won by spending two weeks sitting naked on a small plant that only grows in this remote Peruvian village. And then a monkey stole my phone...", you know, the kind of thing Sebastian Plappert would make up. What I got was "Sorry, my battery run flat." Talk about disappointing excuses.
Anyway, there is Dave Finlay; lost and found and lost and found. When he got off the bus he said "I'll definitely call you, I promise." Yeah, well.
You know Dave, if you don't call me, I will just call YOU! Mark my words: There is no escape!
7 comments:
Are we a little bit obsessed with that Finlay-Guy? What's so special about him? (Although I have to admit that his looks are quite charming.)
Da fällt mir ein, daß ich Jutta ja einen Schotten mitbringen sollte.
Hehe
Ich höre gerade übrigens Confide in Me
Why do people think that I'm obsessed with D.F.? Has the world gone crazy? No other worries? I think the truth is that YOU fancy him!! ;)
ich sah gestern eine anderthalbstuendige Dokumentation ueber Take That (...For The Record). Huebsch haesslich aber auch sehr unterhaltsam.
mmmmhhhh.... and here you had me thinking it was ewan McG you fancied... sory lady, my mystake... so it was dr F you really fancy.... how cute!!!!!!!
Oh, you know, no offence, according to the kiddies I fancy an awful lot of people. Hitler, Mr Campbell, John from the Intermediates, Miss Coughlain... so why not David Finlay. Seems obvious, doesn't it? ;)
fancy talk i get to read here, it seems. and who fancies me and who do i fancy and what is my identity, not the secret, hidden one, but the real me???
my brain is such a piece of rotten old carrot cake that not even a starving, pink bunny-rabbit would even think of trying to nibble a tiny, little, wee piece of a corner of a crumb of it.
that's how things are here. more news when i get around to baking a new carrot cake without the rotten in it.
love sends:
o.m.a
"only mildly amiss"
Dear Oma,
truth is:
we all fancy you.
And your carrot cake.
no, the truth is even more lucid than that: oma, we not only love you inspite of that rotten carrot cake: we love you because of it. go, schönes mädchen!
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