Vegetable shopping was always tricky.
Don't get her wrong, Bree knew the importance of greens. But you have to inspect them really thoroughly. You don't want bugs, or scratches, or heaven forbid, squishiness in all the worst possible ways. You also have to check and see if something's in-season. You don't want to pay more money than you were planning on. Great thing about greens, though, was that there was usually at least one in-season.
But it's good to take all these into account when it comes to good veggies.
Top 40s music played throughout the supermarket, occasionally interrupted by an employee over the intercom. Right now it was "Havana," barely audible over the the din of customers. Maybe she shouldn't have come on noon on a Saturday. Bree didn't want to push through gazillions of people and then wait in line for the rest of Senior year. She had better things to do, thanks.
Eh, at least it wasn't that packed.
Bree stood in the produce aisle, a canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder. Currently, she was holding a bundle of kale. Her fingers gently brushed through it. Seemed fresh, had no signs of bugs chowing down. Maybe this?
It'd be something a pleco would enjoy. Maybe a zebra snail would enjoy a few bites, as well. And humans, of course, love it too.
Survival of the Fittest, Leonard!
((Andy Silverman continued from Just Chill))
You had to give Andy credit: he had actually been trying to do his homework. He'd been lounging in the kitchen, his book and notebooks arranged all nice on the table, and then Clove and Mikey had to start with the fucking racket in the backyard. They'd gone out to throw a baseball around or something, something to do with Mikey wanting to go up for the JV team at their school, and then the bickering had started. It was more accurate to say that Clove started talking shit and Mikey just responded, but whatever. It went off and on, interspersed with some actual throwing and hitting of the ball, but it gradually began to wear on Andy's nerves, and of course he didn't know where his headphones were so he could block it out.
So Andy did the brotherly thing to do, which was to stick his head out the battered screen door and yell at them to knock it off with that shit, he was trying to work.
And that's when he got nailed in the face with the baseball that Mikey had sent flying wide with a clumsy swing of the bat.
So anyway, that was the reason why Andy was wandering around the supermarket a couple of days later with a bag of frozen beans draped across his head and over his left eye.
The reason for the beans, that is. He was just at the supermarket because picking up groceries every other week was the chore he'd inherited from Basil after Basil decided to go off and be a productive member of society or some shit. He'd grabbed the beans along with the other things that he needed from the frozen foods aisle because the shiner Mikey had given him was throbbing like a bitch.
It was a chore that Andy didn't particularly mind; his parents left him the money, and he got to drive around town a bit and mill around if he felt like it. If there was enough money left after he got all the essentials, he'd usually pick up some snacks to bring to the band's next get-together or whatever party he was going to where he knew someone would be providing pot. Everyone liked the guy who brought snacks when things were getting dank.
It was pretty crowded, but Andy was in a pretty good mood, black eye and all, so he didn't mind having to steer his cart through the crowd on his way to the produce section. He was a big guy, and people kept giving him weird looks thanks to the bag of beans (the bean-bag, if you will) so he was being given decent space. And wouldn't you know it, there just so happened to be someone he knew up ahead.
Not somebody he liked, but somebody he knew nonetheless.
"What's up, BJ?" Andy asked, parking his cart next to Bree so that he could dig the crumpled grocery list out of his jeans pocket and see what he was supposed to get from this part of the store.
You had to give Andy credit: he had actually been trying to do his homework. He'd been lounging in the kitchen, his book and notebooks arranged all nice on the table, and then Clove and Mikey had to start with the fucking racket in the backyard. They'd gone out to throw a baseball around or something, something to do with Mikey wanting to go up for the JV team at their school, and then the bickering had started. It was more accurate to say that Clove started talking shit and Mikey just responded, but whatever. It went off and on, interspersed with some actual throwing and hitting of the ball, but it gradually began to wear on Andy's nerves, and of course he didn't know where his headphones were so he could block it out.
So Andy did the brotherly thing to do, which was to stick his head out the battered screen door and yell at them to knock it off with that shit, he was trying to work.
And that's when he got nailed in the face with the baseball that Mikey had sent flying wide with a clumsy swing of the bat.
So anyway, that was the reason why Andy was wandering around the supermarket a couple of days later with a bag of frozen beans draped across his head and over his left eye.
The reason for the beans, that is. He was just at the supermarket because picking up groceries every other week was the chore he'd inherited from Basil after Basil decided to go off and be a productive member of society or some shit. He'd grabbed the beans along with the other things that he needed from the frozen foods aisle because the shiner Mikey had given him was throbbing like a bitch.
It was a chore that Andy didn't particularly mind; his parents left him the money, and he got to drive around town a bit and mill around if he felt like it. If there was enough money left after he got all the essentials, he'd usually pick up some snacks to bring to the band's next get-together or whatever party he was going to where he knew someone would be providing pot. Everyone liked the guy who brought snacks when things were getting dank.
It was pretty crowded, but Andy was in a pretty good mood, black eye and all, so he didn't mind having to steer his cart through the crowd on his way to the produce section. He was a big guy, and people kept giving him weird looks thanks to the bag of beans (the bean-bag, if you will) so he was being given decent space. And wouldn't you know it, there just so happened to be someone he knew up ahead.
Not somebody he liked, but somebody he knew nonetheless.
"What's up, BJ?" Andy asked, parking his cart next to Bree so that he could dig the crumpled grocery list out of his jeans pocket and see what he was supposed to get from this part of the store.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Bree took a sniff of the kale as another test. Smelled good. That was another plus. It was fresh, and aromatic, and most likely good for plecos, snails, and people alike. Krusty needed a varied diet. He had some wood, and he got algae pellets, but nothing was quite like fresh veggies for plecostomus.
She heard the squeak of a cart next to her, and turned her head. That was Andy, from the basketball team. They were both sports team captains, but despite that, they didn't really talk much, she didn't think? Wasn't he also part of a band? She heard something to that effect. Eh, he was alright, she guessed. A little bit of an overreactor, but not hugely terrible.
Though, BJ? Really?
That wasn't important right now, though. What was important was that, for some reason, Andy had what looked like a bag of frozen beans held to his face. Was he seriously going around the store like that? Did he like, hit his head or something? Was he even going to buy those beans? So many questions.
Bree frowned.
"What happened to your face?"
Straight to the point.
She heard the squeak of a cart next to her, and turned her head. That was Andy, from the basketball team. They were both sports team captains, but despite that, they didn't really talk much, she didn't think? Wasn't he also part of a band? She heard something to that effect. Eh, he was alright, she guessed. A little bit of an overreactor, but not hugely terrible.
Though, BJ? Really?
That wasn't important right now, though. What was important was that, for some reason, Andy had what looked like a bag of frozen beans held to his face. Was he seriously going around the store like that? Did he like, hit his head or something? Was he even going to buy those beans? So many questions.
Bree frowned.
"What happened to your face?"
Straight to the point.
Right to the point without even saying hi back. Good old BJ. Andy lifted the bag just a bit to let her get a glimpse of his blackened eye, half-grinning.
"It's baseball season, and my little brothers are out for my blood, man." He re-adjusted the bag to cover his eye again. Moisture was starting to gather on it, getting his hair wet and plastering it down in places, but he'd committed to the look but slapping the bag on his face in public, so he just moved it around until it was more or less balanced and keeping the cold pressed to the bruising around his eye. "How's the kale smell?"
He glanced back down at the grocery list while waiting on her answer. Some of it was hard to make out; nobody in his family had great handwriting, honestly. Having only one good eye might not be helping. Well. It definitely wasn't helping, he just wasn't sure if it was hurting anything. Besides the literal hurting, that was.
Andy squinted at the list for a minute more, tapping his fingers on the handle of the shopping cart, index, middle, ring finger, ring, middle, index. He gave up pretty quickly and turned back to Bree to brandish the note in her direction.
"Hey, can you tell if this says peppers or potatoes? I'm blind right now." Or the handwriting really was that smudgy. Probably Column B, to be honest.
"It's baseball season, and my little brothers are out for my blood, man." He re-adjusted the bag to cover his eye again. Moisture was starting to gather on it, getting his hair wet and plastering it down in places, but he'd committed to the look but slapping the bag on his face in public, so he just moved it around until it was more or less balanced and keeping the cold pressed to the bruising around his eye. "How's the kale smell?"
He glanced back down at the grocery list while waiting on her answer. Some of it was hard to make out; nobody in his family had great handwriting, honestly. Having only one good eye might not be helping. Well. It definitely wasn't helping, he just wasn't sure if it was hurting anything. Besides the literal hurting, that was.
Andy squinted at the list for a minute more, tapping his fingers on the handle of the shopping cart, index, middle, ring finger, ring, middle, index. He gave up pretty quickly and turned back to Bree to brandish the note in her direction.
"Hey, can you tell if this says peppers or potatoes? I'm blind right now." Or the handwriting really was that smudgy. Probably Column B, to be honest.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
((Forrest Quin continued from Save Tonight))
The naming of the produce aisle always confused her because technically everything in the grocery store was produced by someone no? They didn't just come into being or spring forth fully-formed when you hit the ground enough to break it. Maybe it was more based on the actual process of having to grow the things, but then the canned goods still had to be grown at some point in their lives, even if it was in a dark warehouse and out of season. It did still count as being grown she supposed. Maybe it was a moral issue and there was the good and evil veg that were separated by the perceived freshness of their growth processes. Regardless she was here to buy more produce.
Why, you ask?
Because she needed those vegains.
Pun and the morals of what qualified as produce aside she did spend a lot of her grocery shopping time in the produce section since she needed fruit and veg above everything else. The diet she had chosen earlier on her life was strict about that one. Proper food freedom was always just out of her grasp as some aisles were forbidden to her. The headphones that rested on her head of all place were pounding out the beats of some of her latest work as glided through the store, a pale ghost from lack of sun, basket over one arm. It already contained a few bits she had been asked to pick up. The social contract of announcing you were going to the shop dictated that you were making an open offer to get what others wanted. So she had been dispatched to acquire cereal and coffee as well as what she personally wanted. Her dads were big on coffee. It made sense, their jobs involved a lot of late nights and early mornings. The twilight times when a lot of the important but lesser seen work and deals got done. So a caffeine kick was needed, she always needed a caffeine kick because of her life choices so in a way she understood their needs.
The beats continued to pound away at a steady rate like the hits of a hammer as she moved through the grocery store. She was working on some new mixes and was testing out the result of those projects. So far she had found a few things she wanted to change and some additions that she felt needed to be made but on the whole, she was happy with the late night/early morning rush of inspiration. She did need to drop some signature sound effects of hers in as well. Really give it that DJ HELLKITTY vibe.
As she came up to the produce isle, there probably was an island of produce thinking about it. A mysterious land coated in a thick layer of fog and radishes. As she put some carrots in her basket she looked up and spotted two people she knew from school. One Bree Jones, or BJ for obvious reasons. She was one of the swim team which Forrest didn't know much about other than the fact they swam. Her status as captain meant she was probably pretty good at it but compared to a penguin she probably looked like an amateur. The other was Andy Silverman, who was a friend. They had dated before, lost in a sea of hormones like every relationship but she had ended it and said she liked him better as a friend. She blinked a little as the memory swam in her vision.
Pulling her headphones down and silencing the thumping she crept around the stand towards them, once she got close enough she leaned in over Andy's shoulder.
"Can I have a look?"
The naming of the produce aisle always confused her because technically everything in the grocery store was produced by someone no? They didn't just come into being or spring forth fully-formed when you hit the ground enough to break it. Maybe it was more based on the actual process of having to grow the things, but then the canned goods still had to be grown at some point in their lives, even if it was in a dark warehouse and out of season. It did still count as being grown she supposed. Maybe it was a moral issue and there was the good and evil veg that were separated by the perceived freshness of their growth processes. Regardless she was here to buy more produce.
Why, you ask?
Because she needed those vegains.
Pun and the morals of what qualified as produce aside she did spend a lot of her grocery shopping time in the produce section since she needed fruit and veg above everything else. The diet she had chosen earlier on her life was strict about that one. Proper food freedom was always just out of her grasp as some aisles were forbidden to her. The headphones that rested on her head of all place were pounding out the beats of some of her latest work as glided through the store, a pale ghost from lack of sun, basket over one arm. It already contained a few bits she had been asked to pick up. The social contract of announcing you were going to the shop dictated that you were making an open offer to get what others wanted. So she had been dispatched to acquire cereal and coffee as well as what she personally wanted. Her dads were big on coffee. It made sense, their jobs involved a lot of late nights and early mornings. The twilight times when a lot of the important but lesser seen work and deals got done. So a caffeine kick was needed, she always needed a caffeine kick because of her life choices so in a way she understood their needs.
The beats continued to pound away at a steady rate like the hits of a hammer as she moved through the grocery store. She was working on some new mixes and was testing out the result of those projects. So far she had found a few things she wanted to change and some additions that she felt needed to be made but on the whole, she was happy with the late night/early morning rush of inspiration. She did need to drop some signature sound effects of hers in as well. Really give it that DJ HELLKITTY vibe.
As she came up to the produce isle, there probably was an island of produce thinking about it. A mysterious land coated in a thick layer of fog and radishes. As she put some carrots in her basket she looked up and spotted two people she knew from school. One Bree Jones, or BJ for obvious reasons. She was one of the swim team which Forrest didn't know much about other than the fact they swam. Her status as captain meant she was probably pretty good at it but compared to a penguin she probably looked like an amateur. The other was Andy Silverman, who was a friend. They had dated before, lost in a sea of hormones like every relationship but she had ended it and said she liked him better as a friend. She blinked a little as the memory swam in her vision.
Pulling her headphones down and silencing the thumping she crept around the stand towards them, once she got close enough she leaned in over Andy's shoulder.
"Can I have a look?"
"Eh, pretty good. Has that nice, earthy, planty smell that kale should have, you know?"
But oh. Bree kind of cringed a bit when he removed the beans. Did did his brothers throw a baseball at his head? That black eye didn't look pleasant, and she could only imagine what it would be like when it first connected. Was it even a good idea to go grocery shopping like that? Bree didn't know. He didn't specify how recent, but maybe it was better to lie down, or go to a doctor, or something. For all they knew, it could have been more than a black eye.
Bree leaned in, looking at the piece of paper he pointed at. That was kind of atrocious handwriting, and it wasn't helped by the smudges. She had to squint a bit, but her guess was "potatoes."
Honestly, even people with two working eyes had difficulty.
Oh, and hi Forrest.
Bree wasn't sure if she talked to Forrest often, either, but she had an idea. Another music type. She also heard somewhere that she had plenty of reptiles, which was cool. Bree was always a fish person, but she had an appreciation for snakes. She wasn't really sure about that hair, though.
But she was more sure that Andy and Forrest were close, or at least close enough. So she shrugged a bit.
"Sure. Hey, by the way."
Bree squinted for another second, then spoke.
"I think that says potatoes. It's messy and smudged, though."
Looking back at Forrest. Might as well.
"Second opinion?"
But oh. Bree kind of cringed a bit when he removed the beans. Did did his brothers throw a baseball at his head? That black eye didn't look pleasant, and she could only imagine what it would be like when it first connected. Was it even a good idea to go grocery shopping like that? Bree didn't know. He didn't specify how recent, but maybe it was better to lie down, or go to a doctor, or something. For all they knew, it could have been more than a black eye.
Bree leaned in, looking at the piece of paper he pointed at. That was kind of atrocious handwriting, and it wasn't helped by the smudges. She had to squint a bit, but her guess was "potatoes."
Honestly, even people with two working eyes had difficulty.
Oh, and hi Forrest.
Bree wasn't sure if she talked to Forrest often, either, but she had an idea. Another music type. She also heard somewhere that she had plenty of reptiles, which was cool. Bree was always a fish person, but she had an appreciation for snakes. She wasn't really sure about that hair, though.
But she was more sure that Andy and Forrest were close, or at least close enough. So she shrugged a bit.
"Sure. Hey, by the way."
Bree squinted for another second, then spoke.
"I think that says potatoes. It's messy and smudged, though."
Looking back at Forrest. Might as well.
"Second opinion?"
Andy didn't know, because he didn't like kale. Kale tasted like lawn clippings. Kale deserved to be stood in the corner and shamed in comparison to other, better greens. Kale-
Andy didn't get to finish that thought, because Forrest suddenly appeared out of the blind spot created by the bag over his eye and nearly gave him a heart attack. "Jesus fuck, hi Forrest. Are you trying to kill me?"
His brain took a couple of seconds to catch up with his mouth and hey, hi Forrest, his ex-whose-best-friend-is-his-girlfriend-now, no that didn't make things weird. It was fine. Mikki was fine with it, so Forrest was probably fine with it. Andy wasn't going to ask.
"Um." He thrust the smudged grocery list out towards Forrest before any of that could come spilling out. "Peppers or potatoes?"
Andy didn't get to finish that thought, because Forrest suddenly appeared out of the blind spot created by the bag over his eye and nearly gave him a heart attack. "Jesus fuck, hi Forrest. Are you trying to kill me?"
His brain took a couple of seconds to catch up with his mouth and hey, hi Forrest, his ex-whose-best-friend-is-his-girlfriend-now, no that didn't make things weird. It was fine. Mikki was fine with it, so Forrest was probably fine with it. Andy wasn't going to ask.
"Um." He thrust the smudged grocery list out towards Forrest before any of that could come spilling out. "Peppers or potatoes?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
"That," She began, pausing to build up the antici-and to actually try and read the rorschach smudge that occupied the space on the note. It looked like peptatoes or poteppers, but honestly, it was impossible to say.
As for the whole Andy thing. It was a super simple story involving them meeting at a party and then starting to date as you did with people you met while drunk at a party, nothing weird there. Then stuff happened and she ended up breaking up with him, it was fine. They were fine. He'd taken it well and not long after started dated Mikki. She had no problem with that, he could do what he wanted.
It was fine.
Ok, that wasn't totally true. It was fine for her because she'd done what she always did.
Something stirred as if to remind her of what happened and why. She felt it snake up her around her leg and take in the scene.
Her smile twitched at the corners as the feeling slunk away.
"Poteppers."
-pation
As for the whole Andy thing. It was a super simple story involving them meeting at a party and then starting to date as you did with people you met while drunk at a party, nothing weird there. Then stuff happened and she ended up breaking up with him, it was fine. They were fine. He'd taken it well and not long after started dated Mikki. She had no problem with that, he could do what he wanted.
It was fine.
Ok, that wasn't totally true. It was fine for her because she'd done what she always did.
Something stirred as if to remind her of what happened and why. She felt it snake up her around her leg and take in the scene.
Her smile twitched at the corners as the feeling slunk away.
"Poteppers."
-pation
Bree shrugged again.
"Well, that's helpful, I guess."
It seemed Forrest didn't know, either. The handwriting really was that smudged and illegible. "Potatoes" was Bree's best bet, but "poteppers" was an option too, maybe. For all they knew, it could have been "papaya."
Hm. Maybe they can figure out how to solve this.
"Andy, did anyone in your family plan something in particular that involves one of the two?" she asked.
Might be helpful to narrow it down. If it turned out someone was planning on making some homemade chips, as an example, it might help figure out the intent. Some part of her doubted that one of the brothers would in between baseball lobbing, but you never know.
That eye, though. Bree continued to cringe each time she looked at it.
"Well, that's helpful, I guess."
It seemed Forrest didn't know, either. The handwriting really was that smudged and illegible. "Potatoes" was Bree's best bet, but "poteppers" was an option too, maybe. For all they knew, it could have been "papaya."
Hm. Maybe they can figure out how to solve this.
"Andy, did anyone in your family plan something in particular that involves one of the two?" she asked.
Might be helpful to narrow it down. If it turned out someone was planning on making some homemade chips, as an example, it might help figure out the intent. Some part of her doubted that one of the brothers would in between baseball lobbing, but you never know.
That eye, though. Bree continued to cringe each time she looked at it.
Poteppers. Pot-eppers.
"Heh," Andy laughed a little, because he was actually twelve. Man, he loved Forrest.
Like. Friend-loved her. Not love-loved her, because he was dating her best friend.
"I dunno what anybody's planning to make," Andy said to Bree, shaking off those lingering thoughts. "I'm not to be trusted in the kitchen." He'd set the fire alarms off enough times that everyone just erred on the side of caution and usually didn't make (or allow) Andy to attempt cooking.
He shrugged. "I'll just get both. You can't have too many veggies. Unless you hate them, or you're allergic." Tapping his fingers again, he moved on to the next item on the list, which was either corn or porn. That one was easier to figure out. Critical thinking skills.
"What's up with you?" He asked Forrest. "Besides helping me and BJ decode the mystical secrets of my mom's grocery list."
"Heh," Andy laughed a little, because he was actually twelve. Man, he loved Forrest.
Like. Friend-loved her. Not love-loved her, because he was dating her best friend.
"I dunno what anybody's planning to make," Andy said to Bree, shaking off those lingering thoughts. "I'm not to be trusted in the kitchen." He'd set the fire alarms off enough times that everyone just erred on the side of caution and usually didn't make (or allow) Andy to attempt cooking.
He shrugged. "I'll just get both. You can't have too many veggies. Unless you hate them, or you're allergic." Tapping his fingers again, he moved on to the next item on the list, which was either corn or porn. That one was easier to figure out. Critical thinking skills.
"What's up with you?" He asked Forrest. "Besides helping me and BJ decode the mystical secrets of my mom's grocery list."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Gliding through the sea of life with no real goal or destination was what she was doing. Of course, that didn't make for a very good answer to the question she had been asked. It was a little bit out there by a lot.
Shit, why was she in the grocery store? It took her a second to regather all her thoughts from where they had scattered.
She shrugged and moved around so she wasn't stood directly behind. Not that it was getting weird, she had stood behind him before and vice-versa and versa-vice.
"Not much, just out here to buy some food so I can get those vegains."
An old joke but a good one. Ok, it was about two minutes old but that wasn't the point. Neither BJ nor Andy had heard it before so it was new to them. That was the important part. "I was also sent to get cereal and coffee," she said raising the basket and patting the side of it. "But as you can see I achieved that."
All of a sudden a memory came racing back, crashing into the back of her eyelids as it did so. Playing a moment she remembered in the smokey dream of a memory. It made her smile as she thought about it. The smoke coming out of the oven, their coughing, a lazy day up in her room. No worries.
Her attention turned to Bree as the smile stayed in place.
"Kitchen's are like his arch-enemy. He offended the oven gods long ago but not praying to the spatula hard enough and they've cursed him so that whenever he walks into a kitchen something bursts into flames," She held up a hand and started counting items off on her fingers. "Like our brownies, our popcorn, our other brownies, our weed brownies and the rainbow brownies."
She let the raised hand reach over to grab a bag of bananas and deposit it in her basket.
"Then again I've also cooked a vegetarian lasagna while drunk, put it on a plate, taken it into bed and then fallen asleep in it. So I'm not sure who's actually worse here."
Shit, why was she in the grocery store? It took her a second to regather all her thoughts from where they had scattered.
She shrugged and moved around so she wasn't stood directly behind. Not that it was getting weird, she had stood behind him before and vice-versa and versa-vice.
"Not much, just out here to buy some food so I can get those vegains."
An old joke but a good one. Ok, it was about two minutes old but that wasn't the point. Neither BJ nor Andy had heard it before so it was new to them. That was the important part. "I was also sent to get cereal and coffee," she said raising the basket and patting the side of it. "But as you can see I achieved that."
All of a sudden a memory came racing back, crashing into the back of her eyelids as it did so. Playing a moment she remembered in the smokey dream of a memory. It made her smile as she thought about it. The smoke coming out of the oven, their coughing, a lazy day up in her room. No worries.
Her attention turned to Bree as the smile stayed in place.
"Kitchen's are like his arch-enemy. He offended the oven gods long ago but not praying to the spatula hard enough and they've cursed him so that whenever he walks into a kitchen something bursts into flames," She held up a hand and started counting items off on her fingers. "Like our brownies, our popcorn, our other brownies, our weed brownies and the rainbow brownies."
She let the raised hand reach over to grab a bag of bananas and deposit it in her basket.
"Then again I've also cooked a vegetarian lasagna while drunk, put it on a plate, taken it into bed and then fallen asleep in it. So I'm not sure who's actually worse here."
Bree blinked. That was a lot of "brownies."
Though, that reminded her that they were like, potheads or something? Honestly, Bree couldn't give too much of a damn about what people decided to smoke, or eat, or whatever. Well, okay, maybe the harder life-destroying stuff, sure. But she wasn't personally. She'd drank a few times, who didn't sneak some booze when their parents weren't looking? It was more of a "special occasion" thing, though. Anyways, she only judged too hugely if it was like, something that'd effect stuff. She didn't because she valued her place on the swim team, thanks, and hopefully the rest of her team did as well.
Though. Had to give props for Forrest being so brazen about weed brownies and drunk antics in a public place, if she heard that right. That took some balls.
Yeah, admittedly she had to chortle a bit at the description of falling asleep in lasagna. And all the brownie-ruining. It was... a mental image.
Bree made a face to suppress the laughter for a moment.
" Eh. If it helps, I once tried to frost a cake while it was still hot. Still tasted good, but you know."
Cooking had all these rules that didn't seem immediately obvious until you actually went out and did it. Then again, you could say that about a lot of things.
Bree glanced down at the kale she was holding, then back at the price. It looked okay, she guessed. It was on sale, at least. Then back at Andy.
"Oh, are you sure your eye's alright? Like... not doctor-worthy, I mean?"
Though, that reminded her that they were like, potheads or something? Honestly, Bree couldn't give too much of a damn about what people decided to smoke, or eat, or whatever. Well, okay, maybe the harder life-destroying stuff, sure. But she wasn't personally. She'd drank a few times, who didn't sneak some booze when their parents weren't looking? It was more of a "special occasion" thing, though. Anyways, she only judged too hugely if it was like, something that'd effect stuff. She didn't because she valued her place on the swim team, thanks, and hopefully the rest of her team did as well.
Though. Had to give props for Forrest being so brazen about weed brownies and drunk antics in a public place, if she heard that right. That took some balls.
Yeah, admittedly she had to chortle a bit at the description of falling asleep in lasagna. And all the brownie-ruining. It was... a mental image.
Bree made a face to suppress the laughter for a moment.
" Eh. If it helps, I once tried to frost a cake while it was still hot. Still tasted good, but you know."
Cooking had all these rules that didn't seem immediately obvious until you actually went out and did it. Then again, you could say that about a lot of things.
Bree glanced down at the kale she was holding, then back at the price. It looked okay, she guessed. It was on sale, at least. Then back at Andy.
"Oh, are you sure your eye's alright? Like... not doctor-worthy, I mean?"
Andy nodded along with the cadence of Forrest's list, holding a respectful moment of silence for all the brownies lost. Especially the weed brownies, that was a few dozen dollars up in almost literal flames. Definitely up in literal smoke. Press F to pay respects.
"You're lucky the lasagna didn't come to life and smite you for your crimes," he said once she'd finished. He remembered hearing about that one, not to mention the Snapchat he'd gotten of her hungover and covered in cheese and sauce. She was still cute when covered in food, for the record. The platonic friendship record.
The frequency of Andy's fingers tapping against the shopping cart's handle picked up a bit.
Bree was saying something though, not to his face but about it. Well technically she was saying it to his face also, since she was asking him a question, but whatever. More specifically, they were back to his eye. Andy shrugged in response. "Eh, I've had worse. You should have seen it yesterday."
He'd been good and pissed about it, for sure, yelling and swearing at Clove and Mikey until one of the neighbors shouted over the fence that they'd call the cops if the three of them didn't shut up. (An empty threat and more or less routine, but it still worked as intended just in case.) It still hurt, and he was sure that it looked awful, but he'd resigned himself to dealing with it. He could kind of see out of it, nothing felt like it had been knocked loose, and doctor's offices made him... antsy.
"Anyway, I guess if it's poteppers, then I'll just get both. Unless poteppers is like, a thing by itself now and GMOs have reached the next level." Andy wasn't sure that was exactly how GMOs worked, but being organic and whatnot wasn't much of an issue in his life (see: his thoughts on kale). Both were a little ways down the aisle, so he glanced down at the list again and decided to follow suit with Forrest in selecting a bunch of bananas to plop into the cart. He was pretty sure that next thing was bananas. Probably.
"You're lucky the lasagna didn't come to life and smite you for your crimes," he said once she'd finished. He remembered hearing about that one, not to mention the Snapchat he'd gotten of her hungover and covered in cheese and sauce. She was still cute when covered in food, for the record. The platonic friendship record.
The frequency of Andy's fingers tapping against the shopping cart's handle picked up a bit.
Bree was saying something though, not to his face but about it. Well technically she was saying it to his face also, since she was asking him a question, but whatever. More specifically, they were back to his eye. Andy shrugged in response. "Eh, I've had worse. You should have seen it yesterday."
He'd been good and pissed about it, for sure, yelling and swearing at Clove and Mikey until one of the neighbors shouted over the fence that they'd call the cops if the three of them didn't shut up. (An empty threat and more or less routine, but it still worked as intended just in case.) It still hurt, and he was sure that it looked awful, but he'd resigned himself to dealing with it. He could kind of see out of it, nothing felt like it had been knocked loose, and doctor's offices made him... antsy.
"Anyway, I guess if it's poteppers, then I'll just get both. Unless poteppers is like, a thing by itself now and GMOs have reached the next level." Andy wasn't sure that was exactly how GMOs worked, but being organic and whatnot wasn't much of an issue in his life (see: his thoughts on kale). Both were a little ways down the aisle, so he glanced down at the list again and decided to follow suit with Forrest in selecting a bunch of bananas to plop into the cart. He was pretty sure that next thing was bananas. Probably.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
"There's still time for the lasagna god to smite me." Forrest said in reply to Andy.
She was a danger to food when she was drunk, that was pretty clear. Everything in her kitchen cowered in fear when she returned in the early hours of the morning, unsure of who would be chosen to be the next victim. That was true terror.
As the conversation continued she realised that she had somehow managed to completely miss the fact that Andy had the worlds biggest black eye currently occupying half of his face. It reminded her of that super old moon image from that film. Kinda maybe she guessed? That mental image could have used a bit more work. Still, it looked painful, like it must have sucked to have. As she observed it, her hand started to move up of its own accord in an effort to maneuver Andy's face so she could get a better view but she caught it halfway up.
"Went a bit heavy on the mascara huh?" She said as she lowered her hand back down, letting it sink back beneath the sea of everything unsaid and never done.
She turned and gazed out over the produce aisle and gave a wistful sigh.
"One day we'll have roid onions. One day."
She was a danger to food when she was drunk, that was pretty clear. Everything in her kitchen cowered in fear when she returned in the early hours of the morning, unsure of who would be chosen to be the next victim. That was true terror.
As the conversation continued she realised that she had somehow managed to completely miss the fact that Andy had the worlds biggest black eye currently occupying half of his face. It reminded her of that super old moon image from that film. Kinda maybe she guessed? That mental image could have used a bit more work. Still, it looked painful, like it must have sucked to have. As she observed it, her hand started to move up of its own accord in an effort to maneuver Andy's face so she could get a better view but she caught it halfway up.
"Went a bit heavy on the mascara huh?" She said as she lowered her hand back down, letting it sink back beneath the sea of everything unsaid and never done.
She turned and gazed out over the produce aisle and gave a wistful sigh.
"One day we'll have roid onions. One day."
And Bree was lost.
Roid onions? What the hell did that mean? Some kind of GMO joke, she guessed. Of course, Andy had already joked about the unholy fusion of peppers and potatoes, so that was only natural. Hell, for all they knew, that atrocious handwriting could have been referring to that, of course. Some kind of GMO monstrosity that she didn't know about until now.
Anyways, roid onions. Super big onions, she guessed. Or onions that had the effect of steroids. Either-or. Or maybe both. Wouldn’t be surprised nowadays.
“Right, uh…”
How do you respond to people suddenly bringing up “roid onions”? She didn’t think Forrest was high, just saying stuff.
Of course, Andy said he was fine, but she still had to cringe a little bit.
Wait, Forrest did remind her.
“Oh, speaking of which, I think I need onions too.”
Well, it was an in.
Fish didn’t eat onions. But people did. It went great in a soup. Or perhaps a sandwich. Bread, that was another thing she needed to find.
Roid onions? What the hell did that mean? Some kind of GMO joke, she guessed. Of course, Andy had already joked about the unholy fusion of peppers and potatoes, so that was only natural. Hell, for all they knew, that atrocious handwriting could have been referring to that, of course. Some kind of GMO monstrosity that she didn't know about until now.
Anyways, roid onions. Super big onions, she guessed. Or onions that had the effect of steroids. Either-or. Or maybe both. Wouldn’t be surprised nowadays.
“Right, uh…”
How do you respond to people suddenly bringing up “roid onions”? She didn’t think Forrest was high, just saying stuff.
Of course, Andy said he was fine, but she still had to cringe a little bit.
Wait, Forrest did remind her.
“Oh, speaking of which, I think I need onions too.”
Well, it was an in.
Fish didn’t eat onions. But people did. It went great in a soup. Or perhaps a sandwich. Bread, that was another thing she needed to find.