Posts Tagged ‘brigid & greg’
Fictionlet
“So what exactly is your point then?” asked Isadora. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”
“Nothing terribly grand, I suppose,” said Greg. “I was just thinking, that Roy Clark is to guitar, as Victor Borge is to piano.”
Brigid wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t know who either of those people are.”
Greg winced at her. “Do you say these things just to hurt me?”
“Oh please,” said Isadora. “Do you really mean to suggest that Mr. Picking and Grinning is on the same plane as Phonetic Punctuation?”
“Suggest it? I’m stating it explicitly!” said Greg. “Look at the facts. Both extremely capable musicians. Both leaning on humor to the point of being defined by it. Both constantly being asked to ‘play something straight.’ Roy Clark doing a duet of ‘Folsom Prison Blues’ with Johnny Cash is right up there with Victor Borge and Leonid Hambro playing the Hungarian Rhapsody. The only difference is NBC or PBS.”
“Bah. Never!”
“I resent the fact that you two understand each other better than I understand either one of you,” said Brigid. “Can we talk about traffic accidents or something?”
-The Gneech
Fictionlet
Greg paused, staring at a forkful of alfredo noodles.
“What?” said Brigid.
“Do you suppose,” Greg said slowly, thinking it through, “that when Harry Nilsson starts going wah-woh-wah-wah like one of Charlie Brown’s teachers, that’s supposed to be all the people talking at him that he can’t understand?”
Brigid plunked her fork down on the table. “For fuck’s sake, Greg,” she said. “Don’t you realize how old that song is?”
He blinked at her. “I guess so?” he said. “But you still knew which song I meant.”
She winced and closed her eyes. “I hate you,” she said.
Greg shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “Next time I’ll try to be a little more gentle on your mind.”
“SHUTUP SHUTUP SHUTUP!”
-The Gneech
Fictionlet
They sat in silence.
Brigid was slumped in a chair, staring into space.
Greg had his legs up on the couch with Ozymandias in his lap, and also stared into space.
“I want to go back to college,” Brigid said.
“I want to go to college and never come back,” Greg replied.
Silence resumed.
-The Gneech
Fictionlet
“Yo, Greg,” said Brigid, wandering into the kitchen.
“Hello, hello!” he replied, sipping at a coffee and tapping away at the laptop.
She raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and started rooting through a cabinet for the english muffins. “Soooo…?” she said.
“Hmm?” replied Greg, still tapping away.
“Go on,” she said.
“Go on about what?” She just looked over at him; his expression was befuddled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really,” she said.
“Yes, really,” he replied.
“Okay,” she said, turning to her breakfast. A moment of quiet followed.
“You know,” he added, “the Hogan’s Heroes theme song is actually an incredibly dense and layered composition. It’s a masterclass in themes and sub-themes!”
“There it is,” said Brigid.
Fictionlet
Greg sat at the dining room table, tapping away on the lappie as Alex lounged on the couch messing with his phone. Quietly, and without fuss, Ozymandias hopped up onto the table, regarded Greg’s Moleskine with a vague air of contempt, and knocked it off the table before settling down into a loaf.
Greg paused, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Cats are nature’s perfect entropic engine.” He then continued typing.
Alex crinkled up his forehead. “Man, you are like peak 2007,” he said.
-The Gneech
Fictionlet
“Due to the peculiar placement of a seam,” Greg said, “my waistband reads ‘Fruit of the Lruit.”
“What in the entire realm of all human experience might make you want to think I wanted to know that?” asked Brigid.
“What in the entire realm of all human experience might make you think that whether or not you want to know something is relevant to whether I will say it?” Greg replied.
“Have you considered the fact that if you were to die suddenly, it would take weeks before even your closest friends might notice if I were clever in hiding my tracks?” said Brigid.
“Point,” said Greg.
-The Gneech
