I’m bored, and I had some beer, so let’s do a story

Sure. I just got a new set of Rory Story Cubes, the action series. Let’s see what they can do. I split my sets into two small bags for self limiting reasons (also because I’m too lazy to buy a bag big enough for all the dice…)

Georgie Wynn was speechless. He’d been randomly wandering the streets of his home town on a Saturday morning, only to find a pop star window shopping a few doors away from where he stood. Flummoxed, he reached for his cell phone and tapped the camera app to snap a shot of B’trice, hoping her security detail never heard him shriek in shock at the random sight of her.

It wasn’t typical for him to be visiting the town; his parents were both dead, but a close cousin was getting married that afternoon and had insisted he be part of the wedding party. Georgie was only on Mill Street because he’d left his tie at home for some stupid reason and hoped one of the fancier tailor shops in the pricy district would have something puce, the colour his cousin, Dean, had been forced into finding for his half of the wedding party. (Georgie had always assumed it was a gross green. So wrong.)

B’trice turned and smiled at him suddenly. Georgie nearly fell off his feet with shock. Good lord, woman, you have fans around the world. Why in the seven hells would you be looking at me!? He was rooted in place as B’trice kept smiling at him and walked purposefully in his direction. The security retinue followed behind. “Do you live here?” she asked, as husky toned at 9:30 in the morning as she must sound at 1:00 am during a long show.

“Not these days, but did do, yah,” he said, stumbling over the answer. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I’d gone into that coffee shop yesterday afternoon,” she pointed toward a locally owned cafe across the street, “and had mentioned I was wanting to find a gym for a morning workout while I was here. Another customer turned out to own one and gave me the address to look for but I haven’t managed to find it yet.” B’trice called out to her main security dude, who recited the street and building number; Georgie recognized it as opposite the cinema and a street over from where they were currently standing and said as much. B’trice thanked him profusely and gestured for her crew to follow as she hurried through the empty intersection on her way to Werk-It!

While tempted to find a way to spend more time with the star, Georgie turned back to his original purpose with some regret; he still needed to buy a replacement tie for the wedding at three o’clock that afternoon. He checked his phone against the times on the tailor sign and saw the store had opened moments earlier. With faint hope, Georgie stepped in to explain his purpose. Mere moments later, he exited the small shop triumphant. He took this as a sign to take the long walk back to his cousin’s house, via the Werk-It! gym.

He’d just turned the corner when an ambulance roared past him, sirens wailing. The ambulance stopped at the curb in front of the gym and two attendants hurried around to grab the stretcher from the back and rolled it through the gym entrance. Someone worked themselves a little too hard? Georgie wondered. He was tempted to remain by the gym to see who’d roll out but it seemed a bit morbid. He continued his walk to Dean’s place to reassure the nervous young man that he’d be wedding ready and so would all his party.

That afternoon, flute music led the ladies in the wedding party down the aisle to the church altar to stand opposite the men. The audience turned in their seats to watch the lovely golden bridesmaids, then stood as the white-dressed bride herself made her appearance, nearly running down the aisle to eagerly join her future husband by the priest. Georgie smiled as the ceremony started for Dean and Mara, then strained to seem interested as it dragged on, as Catholic shows tended to do. Finally over he, and the rest of the fellows he barely knew, got the photo shoots finished with the girls and happy couple and was able to at last join the guests at the reception.

“Before we begin serving the meal,” Mr. Lanigan, Mara’s father, announced, “we sadly have to deliver a bit of bad news. Mara’s best friend from high school, Trish Marshall, will be unable to attend the evening reception. She was eager to provide us with musical accompaniment for today’s celebration but was unexpectedly taken to hospital this morning.” Murmurs from the audience. Georgie looked around. Hang on..Trish…

“Fortunately, it’s only turned out to be appendicitis, so we’re glad for that. The team at Werk-It! recognized her symptoms and called 911 immediately. She’ll be up and around in a few days and should still be able to honor any B’Trice ticket holders for the show on Thursday.” Applause. Georgie blinked several times, belated applauding as well. He’d had no idea B’trice was a home grown girl. Then he remembered; his sister, Suzanne, used to babysit for a Marshall family in town, and they had at least one daughter…wild. He’d been away from town so long, he’d had no idea whoever grew up to do what. He smiled then and called out to Mr. Lanigan. “If you can give me about twenty minutes, I can round up the rest of the old Wynn Ginbirds and fill in for your missing star. We’re a little out of practice as a group, but I still know my way around a set of drums…”

About 1minionsopinion

Canadian Atheist Basically ordinary Library employee Avid book lover Ditto for movies Wanna-be writer Procrastinator
This entry was posted in writing and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.