Janet Wilson wears the black velvet band (littlewilson) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-08-31 23:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | kermit the frog, pretty colleen |
Who: Jim and Janet
What: Nocturnal dancing
Where: Janet's dream
When: Tonight
Warnings: Be warned: this crack might be so gleeful and ridiculous that it may cause irreparable sugar imbalances in your blood.
Under normal circumstances, Janet might have wondered how she ended up in a malt shop on the moon. Now, it seemed like a normal thing, almost boring. She sat on the backless stool with her knees brushing the counter top, elbow resting on the counter almost boredly. She had been here for almost fifteen whole minutes and nothing interesting had happened yet. In the back of her mind, she suspected that she was supposed to meet someone here. For the life of her, though, she couldn't figure out who it was or when it was supposed to be.
She decided that she had been stood up, and took this realization with a pout. Who would stand her up? Well, if it was a friend, the bitch (or bastard) would be sorry later. And if it was a date, well, he'd be sorry to learn he missed it. After all, she was all dolled up, and when Janet dolled up, she turned heads. The boy behind the counter couldn't stop staring - though perhaps it was a side effect of puberty, as he couldn't have been out of high school - and spilled her drink twice as he made it.
Finally, she received her elusive vanilla malt, topped high with whipped cream and a cherry. Clapping once in glee, she slid the glass towards herself and poked a crinkle straw through the delicate whipped topping into the drink itself. Her ruby lipstick left a faint ring around the straw as she pulled back, smiling in satisfaction. It was delicious, of course. But she knew it would be. She had been here many times, she was sure of it, and it was the most popular malt shop in the entire town. Which was funny, because outside the window she could only see gray craters and steep hills.
Despite its location, the shop was quite busy, full of couples in booths sharing drinks. Though most of the patrons were teenagers or young adults, nobody looked disheveled or in disarray. In fact, everyone seemed to have stepped off a movie set. Shoes were shined, skirts were pressed, and hair was styled to a T. Janet shifted slightly in her seat, smoothing the skirt of her polka dot dress. Her hair was done in perfect red ringlets that were held back from her face by white barrettes, the tips of her curls brushing her shoulders lightly.
With a sigh, she picked up her malt and twisted in her chair to better look around the shop as she sucked on her straw. She didn't recognize anyone she knew, which meant that she was up for a terribly boring evening.