Post by Deleted on Sept 27, 2018 13:15:11 GMT -5
"Cold pop-tarts and Mountain Dew. My kind of breakfast." Maverick groaned at the pathetic meal sitting on his plate. As he leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his hands, he studied the so-called meal with a critical eye. One of the pop-tarts had a bite taken out of it, which he had promptly swallowed after finding it to be chewy from the package being open all night. After eyeing the drink, he shifted his arm to grab the bottle and popped it open with a quick twist. When the container didn't hiss at him, he took a quick swig and cringed. "Why did I not go to the store?" he muttered. He had just been out yesterday. He could've stopped and picked up good, healthy food. No effort there. And yet, he didn't.
His stomach growled in protest as he rose up from his chair and gathered the dishes, spewing expletives in the form of rough murmurs. Part of him condemned himself for being such an idiot and not writing a note. The other part reminded him that he had an excuse. Several concussions resulting in short term memory loss. You can't help it. But Maverick could have remembered, if only he had taken the time to write a note. He hated feeling stupid like this. "Hasta la vista, breakfast," he snarked, tossing the old pop-tarts and soda into the trash. "Time to go get something decent to eat."
A complaining mrrrow from the ground next to him signaled the arrival of none other than James Bond himself. Maverick glanced down and over to see a orange tabby cat with a protruding belly. The cat glared at him with mustard eyes, then meowed again, louder this time. The man shook his head and heaved up the cat, causing the feline to groan in protest. "You be quiet," he chided. "You've already eaten, tubby." He frowned at the cat's now obvious belly. "In fact, you've been eating a little too much." He put the cat back down and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, producing a notepad with a floral design and a blue, chewed up pen. Inside the notepad were a variety of scribbly notes done in tall handwriting.
Feed J.B.
Eat dinner
Call mom
Finish grading papers
He scribbled down Ask vet about J.B.'s weight before sticking it back in his pocket. "Now, then. What did I need?" He paused a moment, rifling through his mental notes. His stomach suddenly snarled, reminding Maverick of both the neighbors' temperamental basset hound and his current task. "Food." A quick breakfast at a fast food place would work perfectly. "Alright, double-oh-seven. Go lay down. I'll be back," he called out into the house, even though he knew it was not needed. The tabby would be somewhere sleeping, stretched out, trying to soak up the hazy sunlight. Lazy bum.
He headed for the front door and paused next to it, glancing at the several hooks sporting a variety of shiny keys. He checked the labels above each hook, trying to find which ones he needed. Front door. No. Garage. No. Here we are. He nabbed the ones deemed Car + house. He quickly twisted the top and bottom locks before pulling open the door. A small breeze flitted in like a mischievous bird; papers on the table were scattered across the floor. I'll get it later. He stepped out and began to pull the door shut behind him, but hesitated and turned back to face the inside again. "Bye, tubby," he called out. Then he shut the door. He paused only a moment to figure out which key was for the door, before taking a guess and getting it right.
Two speedy twists of the wrist, and he was speed-walking to the garage. The air was cool outside - cool enough that he regretted not bringing some sort of jacket. He instead rubbed his arms with his hands and made a final sprint to the garage. He popped upon the door, stepped inside, and relaxed at the warmth enveloping him. Cold air was certainly not his favorite.
Mere moments later, he was in the car and starting it up. "Please don't give me a fit today. You're better than that," he mumbled. The dented vehicle huffed in response. It wasn't the best car, but it got him where he needed to go. Sometimes, though it could be temperamental and throw a tantrum. However, today it was cooperative, and started with a humming roar. "Thank you." It wasn't a huge deal if it didn't start up. He biked if he really needed transportation. He clicked his seat belt on when he noticed the neon blue sticky note on the dash that read Seat belt.
He punched some buttons and searched for fast food on his GPS. When he found a McDonald's that was less then twenty minutes away, he clicked it and set his path to breakfast. "Take me there, Susan," he said to the directional device. The GPS responded with, "Pull out of driveway."
"Food, here we come," he said as he backed out of the driveway and began his short journey, guided by the ever-lovely Susan.
It was when he pulled into the parking lot of McDonald's did he realize that he had forgotten his wallet.
I originally posted this back in October. Here's a slightly modified version one year later.
Character is my own.
His stomach growled in protest as he rose up from his chair and gathered the dishes, spewing expletives in the form of rough murmurs. Part of him condemned himself for being such an idiot and not writing a note. The other part reminded him that he had an excuse. Several concussions resulting in short term memory loss. You can't help it. But Maverick could have remembered, if only he had taken the time to write a note. He hated feeling stupid like this. "Hasta la vista, breakfast," he snarked, tossing the old pop-tarts and soda into the trash. "Time to go get something decent to eat."
A complaining mrrrow from the ground next to him signaled the arrival of none other than James Bond himself. Maverick glanced down and over to see a orange tabby cat with a protruding belly. The cat glared at him with mustard eyes, then meowed again, louder this time. The man shook his head and heaved up the cat, causing the feline to groan in protest. "You be quiet," he chided. "You've already eaten, tubby." He frowned at the cat's now obvious belly. "In fact, you've been eating a little too much." He put the cat back down and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, producing a notepad with a floral design and a blue, chewed up pen. Inside the notepad were a variety of scribbly notes done in tall handwriting.
Feed J.B.
Eat dinner
Call mom
Finish grading papers
He scribbled down Ask vet about J.B.'s weight before sticking it back in his pocket. "Now, then. What did I need?" He paused a moment, rifling through his mental notes. His stomach suddenly snarled, reminding Maverick of both the neighbors' temperamental basset hound and his current task. "Food." A quick breakfast at a fast food place would work perfectly. "Alright, double-oh-seven. Go lay down. I'll be back," he called out into the house, even though he knew it was not needed. The tabby would be somewhere sleeping, stretched out, trying to soak up the hazy sunlight. Lazy bum.
He headed for the front door and paused next to it, glancing at the several hooks sporting a variety of shiny keys. He checked the labels above each hook, trying to find which ones he needed. Front door. No. Garage. No. Here we are. He nabbed the ones deemed Car + house. He quickly twisted the top and bottom locks before pulling open the door. A small breeze flitted in like a mischievous bird; papers on the table were scattered across the floor. I'll get it later. He stepped out and began to pull the door shut behind him, but hesitated and turned back to face the inside again. "Bye, tubby," he called out. Then he shut the door. He paused only a moment to figure out which key was for the door, before taking a guess and getting it right.
Two speedy twists of the wrist, and he was speed-walking to the garage. The air was cool outside - cool enough that he regretted not bringing some sort of jacket. He instead rubbed his arms with his hands and made a final sprint to the garage. He popped upon the door, stepped inside, and relaxed at the warmth enveloping him. Cold air was certainly not his favorite.
Mere moments later, he was in the car and starting it up. "Please don't give me a fit today. You're better than that," he mumbled. The dented vehicle huffed in response. It wasn't the best car, but it got him where he needed to go. Sometimes, though it could be temperamental and throw a tantrum. However, today it was cooperative, and started with a humming roar. "Thank you." It wasn't a huge deal if it didn't start up. He biked if he really needed transportation. He clicked his seat belt on when he noticed the neon blue sticky note on the dash that read Seat belt.
He punched some buttons and searched for fast food on his GPS. When he found a McDonald's that was less then twenty minutes away, he clicked it and set his path to breakfast. "Take me there, Susan," he said to the directional device. The GPS responded with, "Pull out of driveway."
"Food, here we come," he said as he backed out of the driveway and began his short journey, guided by the ever-lovely Susan.
It was when he pulled into the parking lot of McDonald's did he realize that he had forgotten his wallet.
I originally posted this back in October. Here's a slightly modified version one year later.
Character is my own.
