in, not sure if this attempt at twitter embed is gonna make me look dumb
|# ¿ Jul 27, 2016 23:56|
|# ¿ Feb 7, 2023 01:44|
Prompt: A croissant suddenly appears beside you. It has escaped from a panopticon in Bangkok.
Linda Who is Bad at Puns
“I’m going to need you to get over the fact that I’m a talking croissant, Linda. Your eternal happiness is at stake,” the talking croissant said.
She hadn’t dropped acid in over a year, and she hadn’t smoked since the end of the school year. Nonetheless, here was a talking croissant. It didn’t have a mouth and it wasn’t moving, but there was definitely sound coming from it.
“Do you want to be alone forever, Linda? We are on a very tight schedule.”
She had eaten the leftovers of the pasta she had made for herself last night for lunch. There was no way it had gone bad in just one night.
“Linda, for Christ’s sake”—Linda could have sworn the pastry gave a short hop—“do you even have anything better to do?”
Before she could answer, the bus lurched to a stop and the croissant slid off the chair and onto Linda’s bag. She heard the wrenching of unoiled machinery and looked up at the opening door. No one was there and the bus was still empty except for Linda, the bus driver, and the talking croissant.
Linda sighed. “No,” she answered, “I don’t have anything better to do.”
“Good!” the croissant said. “Now, if you don’t mind, could you put me back on my seat?”
Linda started to nod, but stopped herself halfway through because she wasn’t certain if croissants that could talk could also see. She leaned over and picked up the croissant gingerly. It was warm and soft, almost as if it had been pulled from the oven only minutes beforehand and not at all as if it had been sitting on a bus-seat on a winter afternoon.
“I understand that this is all a bit ludicrous, with me being a talking croissant and the like.” The croissant spoke with a certain practiced ease. “You’re going to have to trust me, though.”
The bus came to another stop. Linda looked up at the door again, but it was just a traffic light. “I’m not certain I can trust a talking croissant that popped into existence next to me only five minutes ago,” she said.
“Look, Linda, I don’t have any answers for you. I don’t know why I’m a talking croissant. I don’t know how I got to be on this bus seat. What I do know is that seven minutes ago I was about to be eaten by a prison guard in Thailand, and I’m rather pleased that didn’t happen. I also know that we have to get off in two stops if we’re going to make our schedule, and I know we won’t unless you trust me.”
It was snowing outside, and the sun was below the horizon, and it wasn’t a short walk from two-stops-from-now to her apartment. On the other hand, Linda couldn’t remember the last time she did something really dumb—maybe the last time she smoked, but school felt like another lifetime. The croissant would make, at the very least, a good story.
“What were you doing in Thailand?” she asked.
“Same thing I’m doing here,” it said, “helping people find each other. It’s what I do. I also help dogs find other dogs, sometimes.”
Linda furled her brow. “Do you bark at the dogs?”
The croissant scoffed. “I’m a talking croissant Linda, not Cesar Milan.”
“I don’t think he barks at dogs,” she said.
“I don’t think he asks stupid questions, either.”
The bus came to another stop. The doors opened again, and Linda looked up. An older man got onto the bus and, holding on the poles as he walked, moved to the back.
“I’m not actually alone, you know.” Linda whispered. “I have a cat.”
“You’re a dog person and you always have been and you hate that cat, Linda,” the croissant whispered back. “We’re going to find something better than a cat.” The bus hit a pothole, and the croissant jumped precariously close to the edge. Linda moved it back.
“And it’s going to have a better name than Paw-rack Oba-meow,” the croissant continued. “That’s not even a good pun, Linda.”
Linda couldn’t think of a good comeback so they sat in silence until the bus announced that it was approaching the next stop.
“Do you have a name?” Linda asked the croissant. She looked over at the old man to see if he had heard her, but he was staring vacantly out the window.
“You can’t small-talk you’re way out of getting off of this bus at this stop.”
“I have a cat,” she repeated.
“You hate that loving cat,” the croissant said. “Don’t settle for the cat, Linda.”
The bus pulled over and came to a stop.
“Get up, Linda,” the croissant said.
Linda turned to face the old man, but he was still staring out the window. He looked like he was either bored or sad but she couldn’t tell and—
“Linda, get off of the bus.”
The doors began to groan close.
Linda pinched the bridge of her nose. “gently caress,” she muttered, and she got out of her seat. She grabbed her bag off of the ground and grabbed the croissant and hustled down the bus and shouted “Wait!” and “Sorry!” and, panting, pushed open the rear doors.
It was colder than she had expected outside. The bus, as soon as she was out the door, lurched back into the street, leaving an exasperated Linda clutching her bag with one hand and the croissant with the other.
“Right on time!” the croissant said. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
As if on cue, a strong gust of wind slammed into Linda, who cursed and staggered and drop the croissant and then cursed some more. She turned to pick it back up. There was a boy standing there, bent over the croissant.
“Huh,” he said. “What a waste of a good croissant!” He was cute.
Linda shrugged. “Que será, será,” she replied.
|# ¿ Aug 2, 2016 03:59|
I came here for an avatar and I'm not leaving until I get it
A DOG wants to EXPERIENCE SELF-DOUBT.
|# ¿ Aug 2, 2016 06:02|
In with atompunk and a
(USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST)
|# ¿ Aug 29, 2016 20:50|