George Lass (getanafterlife) wrote in parabolical, @ 2008-04-04 14:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | george lass, mason |
Who: George Lass + OPEN
Where: Coffee Shop
When: Friday afternoon
So far LA was kind of sucking. And by kind of she meant really. The constant rain, the lack of sun, the overall weirdness of it all was just beyond her. She really, really, hated Rube at the moment for even sending her here. With the sun gone death had skyrockted and the External Influences Department was overrun. So far she had yet to meet her new "foreman", Rube had describe him as a ego tripping maniac without a second to spare for the little people. So far all her post it's had found their way to being taped on the inside of her mail box in her apartment building. Oddly it suited her just fine. George wasn't happy with the people thing lately.
She glanced up at the street signs, glad to see she had finally found a job on the first try. George stole a glance to her post it again, D. Lane. She slipped into the coffee shop and took a look around. It was busy, the rain forcing people inside more than usual. As she scanned the place she could see a girl working the expresso machine with a nametag that read Doreen attatched to her shirt. "Perhaps Doreen Lane?" George muttered to herself and made her way to order.
"What can I get you?" Doreen asked and George placed a perfect half confused half recognition look on her face.
"You aren't Doreen Lane by chance are you?" She asked.
"Uh.. yeah, how'd you know?" the girl asked, giving George a look.
"We went to school together, grade three, Jane... remember?" George said, forcing enthusiasm into voice.
Doreen looked at her and then the little switch occured. George had used this rouse often, she learned early on that people would rather fake knowing you than insult by saying they didn't. It was a thing. "Oh my god, Jane, how are you?" Doreen asked, leaning forward on the counter.
"Good... good, you look really good," George said and reached a hand forward to touch Doreen's arm.
Doreen's expression changed for a split second, the feeling of something cold creeping down her spine. "You too, Jane. What can I get you?"
"Oh, you know what, I just remembered I left my wallet in the car," George said quickly and then left the store before Doreen could reply.
As she stepped out George heard the tell tale clatter of an accident occuring, and then the screams of the patrons as they realized their precious barista just lost her life to the expresso machine. A few moments later George was joined by Doreeen. "There was no Jane in my third grade class, was there?" She asked, looking at George.
George shook her head, "if there was, I'm not her," she said, pointing down the alley to where a slivery playground had appeared. "But maybe she's there," George said and watched as Doreen skipped off to her afterlife.
George opened her umbrella back up and sighed, taking a look out over the street. "LA fucking blows," she said to no one in particular.