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3/12/15
Seba found himself parked half a block from an address he had retrieved from the team directory. The midday sun glinted off the hood as the engine ran, pumping the car full of cool air to fend off the Vegas heat. Despite the fact that he hated to waste the gas, Seba had been sitting here for half an hour, trying to quell the circus of his acrobatic stomach and roaring thoughts.
One last time, he told himself. Again, he rehashed the internal arguments he’d been unwillingly entertaining for the past week and which had brought him to this street this afternoon. He had gone over them so many times that he had organized them into a familiar format for logical argument:
Question: Should I march up to the door and ask Sluggy if her offer is valid--and whether I can take it?
Objection 1: Sluggy’s last sentence was an invitation to stop by “Casa QuaaJazzCon” from time to time, not to move in.
Objection 2: I am not very pleasant company, so no one would invite me to be a roommate.
Objection 3: I do not know what people--and family--would think if I moved into a house with the notorious Barnaby Jazz and his partner. On top of that, it would be on the invitation of a single female teammate. Both could be occasions of scandal, albeit not of the FMZ sort.
On the contrary, it is said that “it is not good for man to be alone.” That cannot only pertain to marriage. There have been studies demonstrating the necessity of social interaction for mental health.
I respond that my situation at present threatens my professional performance and hence the future of my career. Something must change. And, as Sluggy pointed out, this is the first time in my life in which I have lived on my own. I think I am discovering the deleterious effects of isolation on myself and should counteract them.
Reply to objection 1: We were talking about residences, in which case she was inviting him to fill one of the spots vacated by the former UFFL tenants.
Reply to objection 2: Though I fear it is prideful to say it, I know that I am a much better roommate than Coby Carson.
Reply to objection 3: Residing together is not approval, and Sluggy is just a good friend. Of course. And one much greater than I gave scandal to some in His day.
Screwing his eyes shut and inhaling decisively, Seba turned off the car and thrust open the door, letting the hot, dry air rush over him. He stepped into the sunlight. For a moment, he kept his hand on the door, readying himself to get back in and drive away. Instead, he shut the door and took a step.
His heart pounded as if he’d been on a 5-mile run as he shortened the expanse of sidewalk concrete approached the door. A last-minute panic struck him: what if Sluggy was not there? But no: her Saab was here. Shaking away the thought, he raised his hand and pressed the bell.
A few moments later, the door opened and Seba, to his relief, saw Sluggy’s barcode-patterned face. She smiled broadly, showing her flat teeth. “Seba! This a nice surprise. Come on in.” Stepping away from the door, she gestured for Seba to follow her. Caught without a chance to get in a word edgewise, Seba mutely stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. Sluggy’s hoofbeats led the way into a sitting room furnished with several plush couches.
Sluggy walked straight through into an adjoining kitchen, calling out behind her. “Take a seat! Let me get you something to drink. What would you like?”
“Water is fine,” Seba said, lowering himself onto the nearest end of the nearest couch and looking around him. For as colorful as the house’s residents’ personalities seemed to be in public, the decor was unexpectedly understated: a couple generic beachscape paintings, some framed jerseys.
The zebra returned a moment later and offered a glass with a straw, which Seba took from her with thanks. She sat down across from him and said, jovially, “How long were you out there in your car? I could’ve sworn I saw you out there about thirty minutes ago.”
This preternatural ability to keep tabs on him Seba found unnerving, but a week spent processing Sluggy’s last insights had prepared him to not show his embarrassment today. Nevertheless, he gave a nervous chuckle and sipped the water. “Yes, I was out there for a bit.” The scripts he had come up with for this moment fluttered away from his mind and he stumbled for words. He leaned forward, heart pumping again. “Sluggy, I wanted to ask something…”
At that moment, another figure stepped out of a hallway into the room. It wasn’t a seven-foot shark or a dog; it was a sheep. In fact, Seba felt like he remembered her. A second’s recollection brought up the fact that she was a nun who played for Tallahassee, but not her name.
Sluggy’s eyes brightened when she saw who it was. “Oh, Seba, you know Mary Wooten, right?” (That was it, thought Seba.) “Well, she just arrived today from Florida. She’s been traded to the Wildcards!”
Mary took a step forward and smiled politely. Seba rose, returning the expression, and shook her hooved hand. “It’ll be great to play with you instead of against you!” he said, hoping that was a good improvisation.
“Likewise!” Mary replied. “I’d love to talk, but I have to run some errands. I have to get some linens for myself. And food, for that matter.”
“Don’t want the newest Wildcard to starve!” Sluggy laughed. Mary turned back to the zebra and leaned over. They nuzzled their noses together with a smile.
Oh.
Huh.
Replacing one occasion for scandal with another, eh?
…”One much greater than I.”
Mary strode over to the door and left quietly. Sluggy, whose eyes had trailed Mary’s departure, returned to Seba still bearing her contented expression. “What was it you wanted to ask, then?”
The little interlude had derailed Seba’s train of thought and it took a moment to get it back on track. Even then, the ride was not very smooth. “Well, last week, we spoke about… well… you were right that I was lonely. So, I wanted to ask…”--he glanced from the hallway where Mary emerged--”...do you still have another room in the house?”
Sluggy smiled again. “As a matter of fact, even though Mary’s moving in, we do!”
Seba ignored his thumping pulse. “Bueno… would you all mind if we added ‘Couscous’ to the mailbox?”
“I think we it would fit!”
A smile of gratitude spread across the toucan’s beak.
---
That was faster than I expected! The conclusion to the long-overdue story.
Also, if anyone gets the hidden reference in here... comment, and you get a sketch. It's really nerdy. :P
Sluggy © kintomythostian
Mary Wooten © illarouge
furrybasketball created by buckhopper
Seba found himself parked half a block from an address he had retrieved from the team directory. The midday sun glinted off the hood as the engine ran, pumping the car full of cool air to fend off the Vegas heat. Despite the fact that he hated to waste the gas, Seba had been sitting here for half an hour, trying to quell the circus of his acrobatic stomach and roaring thoughts.
One last time, he told himself. Again, he rehashed the internal arguments he’d been unwillingly entertaining for the past week and which had brought him to this street this afternoon. He had gone over them so many times that he had organized them into a familiar format for logical argument:
Question: Should I march up to the door and ask Sluggy if her offer is valid--and whether I can take it?
Objection 1: Sluggy’s last sentence was an invitation to stop by “Casa QuaaJazzCon” from time to time, not to move in.
Objection 2: I am not very pleasant company, so no one would invite me to be a roommate.
Objection 3: I do not know what people--and family--would think if I moved into a house with the notorious Barnaby Jazz and his partner. On top of that, it would be on the invitation of a single female teammate. Both could be occasions of scandal, albeit not of the FMZ sort.
On the contrary, it is said that “it is not good for man to be alone.” That cannot only pertain to marriage. There have been studies demonstrating the necessity of social interaction for mental health.
I respond that my situation at present threatens my professional performance and hence the future of my career. Something must change. And, as Sluggy pointed out, this is the first time in my life in which I have lived on my own. I think I am discovering the deleterious effects of isolation on myself and should counteract them.
Reply to objection 1: We were talking about residences, in which case she was inviting him to fill one of the spots vacated by the former UFFL tenants.
Reply to objection 2: Though I fear it is prideful to say it, I know that I am a much better roommate than Coby Carson.
Reply to objection 3: Residing together is not approval, and Sluggy is just a good friend. Of course. And one much greater than I gave scandal to some in His day.
Screwing his eyes shut and inhaling decisively, Seba turned off the car and thrust open the door, letting the hot, dry air rush over him. He stepped into the sunlight. For a moment, he kept his hand on the door, readying himself to get back in and drive away. Instead, he shut the door and took a step.
His heart pounded as if he’d been on a 5-mile run as he shortened the expanse of sidewalk concrete approached the door. A last-minute panic struck him: what if Sluggy was not there? But no: her Saab was here. Shaking away the thought, he raised his hand and pressed the bell.
A few moments later, the door opened and Seba, to his relief, saw Sluggy’s barcode-patterned face. She smiled broadly, showing her flat teeth. “Seba! This a nice surprise. Come on in.” Stepping away from the door, she gestured for Seba to follow her. Caught without a chance to get in a word edgewise, Seba mutely stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. Sluggy’s hoofbeats led the way into a sitting room furnished with several plush couches.
Sluggy walked straight through into an adjoining kitchen, calling out behind her. “Take a seat! Let me get you something to drink. What would you like?”
“Water is fine,” Seba said, lowering himself onto the nearest end of the nearest couch and looking around him. For as colorful as the house’s residents’ personalities seemed to be in public, the decor was unexpectedly understated: a couple generic beachscape paintings, some framed jerseys.
The zebra returned a moment later and offered a glass with a straw, which Seba took from her with thanks. She sat down across from him and said, jovially, “How long were you out there in your car? I could’ve sworn I saw you out there about thirty minutes ago.”
This preternatural ability to keep tabs on him Seba found unnerving, but a week spent processing Sluggy’s last insights had prepared him to not show his embarrassment today. Nevertheless, he gave a nervous chuckle and sipped the water. “Yes, I was out there for a bit.” The scripts he had come up with for this moment fluttered away from his mind and he stumbled for words. He leaned forward, heart pumping again. “Sluggy, I wanted to ask something…”
At that moment, another figure stepped out of a hallway into the room. It wasn’t a seven-foot shark or a dog; it was a sheep. In fact, Seba felt like he remembered her. A second’s recollection brought up the fact that she was a nun who played for Tallahassee, but not her name.
Sluggy’s eyes brightened when she saw who it was. “Oh, Seba, you know Mary Wooten, right?” (That was it, thought Seba.) “Well, she just arrived today from Florida. She’s been traded to the Wildcards!”
Mary took a step forward and smiled politely. Seba rose, returning the expression, and shook her hooved hand. “It’ll be great to play with you instead of against you!” he said, hoping that was a good improvisation.
“Likewise!” Mary replied. “I’d love to talk, but I have to run some errands. I have to get some linens for myself. And food, for that matter.”
“Don’t want the newest Wildcard to starve!” Sluggy laughed. Mary turned back to the zebra and leaned over. They nuzzled their noses together with a smile.
Oh.
Huh.
Replacing one occasion for scandal with another, eh?
…”One much greater than I.”
Mary strode over to the door and left quietly. Sluggy, whose eyes had trailed Mary’s departure, returned to Seba still bearing her contented expression. “What was it you wanted to ask, then?”
The little interlude had derailed Seba’s train of thought and it took a moment to get it back on track. Even then, the ride was not very smooth. “Well, last week, we spoke about… well… you were right that I was lonely. So, I wanted to ask…”--he glanced from the hallway where Mary emerged--”...do you still have another room in the house?”
Sluggy smiled again. “As a matter of fact, even though Mary’s moving in, we do!”
Seba ignored his thumping pulse. “Bueno… would you all mind if we added ‘Couscous’ to the mailbox?”
“I think we it would fit!”
A smile of gratitude spread across the toucan’s beak.
---
That was faster than I expected! The conclusion to the long-overdue story.
Also, if anyone gets the hidden reference in here... comment, and you get a sketch. It's really nerdy. :P
Sluggy © kintomythostian
Mary Wooten © illarouge
furrybasketball created by buckhopper
Category Prose / All
Species Avian (Other)
Size 584 x 750px
File Size 116.3 kB
Comments