Who: Demi and Charlie with an appearance by Morticia What: He has to get his presents and she has to play the song that she wrote for him. For his birthday. When: Around now (10 am) Where: Demi's office, C211 Warnings: Language, probably.
She would probably never tell him what she had gone through to get his gift, if he asked she would make it sound like it was no big deal. But the truth was that it had been a pretty big deal, actually, and she was nervous as all hell.
It had all began Sunday morning. Demi had crashed after her Saturday night cabaret show only to wake up around nine with the thought that Charlie's birthday was the next day and she had no earthly idea what to do for him. She ran around the house panicking for several minutes, played her new song on her piano, and then panicked some more. Nothing was open, and anything that was open wouldn't have what she wanted, and she didn't even yet know what she wanted. It was awful.
Pulling out the phone book, she called every specialty shop in a hundred mile radius and finally someone picked up. But they told her they were closed and that this was their cell phone number, and that they wouldn't open shop for one customer no matter who they were. She begged, pleaded, cried, and finally just wrote down the address and drove eighty miles to the little store. Banging on the door until she go an answer, the shop keeper was so impressed that he let her in, which he regretted an hour later when she hadn't picked anything. She kept replaying every conversation that they had thus far had in her head, over and over again, trying to glean some new fact that she may have overlooked before. Sharing her plight with the frustrated shop keeper, he told her to stick with something simple, like a journal...which sparked a thought about Charlie and his writing. She gave the shopkeeper a huge kiss on the cheek and promptly spent another forty-five minutes picking out exactly the right journal. She discovered their limited-edition wooden fountain pens, choosing the ebony because it somehow looked like it would fit better than the others. She paid double the price tag price becuase of all the trouble she caused on the poor man's day off and then she went home...after buying a world map to wrap it in.
The card, at least, she had at home, waiting to be written in.
Now she had been sitting at her desk for two hours, too nervous to do anything productive. She kept listening for him, her door cracked slightly open, hoping that he would at least show up and that all of her shenanigans would not have been in vain...