|Jack Sloper (jackisnimble) wrote in wished,|
@ 2010-09-18 19:09:00
|Entry tags:||!2003: 09, !complete, andrew kirke, jack sloper|
Who: Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke.
When: September 18th. Evening.
Where: Their flat.
What: Jack is waiting for Andrew to get home from his date with the knobhead.
Jack was stewing. Which meant that he was pacing. All around the flat, enough that it was sort of surprising that there wasn't a track laid down from his footsteps, walking back and forth, round and round. All over the flat, because he couldn't sit still. He'd tried. Sitting down on the sofa, or on his bed, or at the kitchen table. But every time, he sprung back up again, bouncing to his feet to pace some more.
And he was also muttering to himself. About giant knob heads and best friend stealing prats. His trio of cats had watched him with feline amusement for a while, before ambling off to hide in the bedroom, lest he accidently walk over them in his pacing.
Jack just could not believe that Andrew had actually gone out with Frank. Frank! What kind of name was Frank anyway? The name of a giant knobhead, that's what. It was hardly a good name at all. Andrew and Frank? No no no, that just sounded like rubbish.
He checked the clock about every two minutes. Not that it did any good. Time didn't suddenly start flying, and besides which, he had no idea what time Andrew would be returning at. Or even where, specifically, he had gone. Where Frank the knob had taken him. What they were doing. They could be snogging RIGHT NOW! That made Jack see red, briefly.
Really, he didn't know why he was so worked up, only that he was. This Frank bloke was all wrong for Andrew, he knew that much.