Monday, April 16, 2012

Biff and Mary: Chapters 2 and 3

Welcome back for more adventures in the shallow-yet-extremely-well-detailed lives of Biff and Mary!

(Catch up on previous chapter first: Biff and Mary, Chapter 1)

Please note:  "The Amorous Adventures of Biff and Mary" are written for fun and as an extreme exaggeration of certain tropes and habits in over-thought and overly-descriptive writing.  I am in no way serious, nor am I basing any of this on anything or anyone.  Just hoping to give you a laugh today!  :)

Chapter 2: Wherein Mary Makes Her Way to Her Car and Enters It:

When we last saw Mary, our blonde heroine in a polyester/cotton blend periwinkle dress with matching shoes and earrings was contemplating lawn slugs, dings in her Honda Civic, and the horrific possibility of her beau, Biff, soon becoming known as Balding Hurricane Biff with a Blighting Blemish...we join her now, on the front walk, approximately one minute and twelve seconds after we left her...

Mary turned 142 degrees to her left before proceeding down the sidewalk, which had several weeds growing in between at least twenty-four of the one hundred and two bricks of which it was made. As she walked she noticed a bird flying above her. She squinted in order to discern its type, and found that it was a robin, though she could not tell whether or not it was male or female. She paused to consider following the bird, because of course knowing whether or not the bird she'd glanced at was a male or a female was of the utmost importance today, as she was due to meet Biff for brunch at Bart's Bistro and if she should decide to relate the occurrence to Biff, he was sure to want all of the details....She watched the bird alight and then hop from branch to branch on the large oak tree in the yard but soon shrugged her slender, periwinkle-clad shoulders and decided that like her, Biff would likely be too preoccupied with possibility of the "B" hurricane, as well as the unfortunate blemish between his perfectly groomed, thick, blonde-but-not-light-brown eyebrows, to want to hear about the bird of unknown gender at all. A frown, which at this stage in her hitherto un-Botoxed life consisted of merely three two-inch creases and one 3/4 inch wrinkle near the bridge of her nose, appeared slightly above her sculpted, light brown-but-not-blond-and-certainly-not-red eyebrows as she momentarily contemplated the calamities that had befallen both her and her beau Biff in so short a span of time, what with the blemish, the hurricane, the lawn slugs and the car ding, all seeming to overwhelm them at once and thus threatening their otherwise flawless and surely fated love.

Mary shook her head slightly in such a way that only a few strands of hair at her temple was disturbed by her action, and then reached her right hand, tastefully manicured with plum-colored-polished-nails, toward the chrome handle of her pearl-painted Honda Civic driver's side door and opened it. She bent at the knees, then leaned down slightly and sat inside the vehicle, alighting with right buttock first, followed by its twin, onto the gray leather captain style driver’s seat. She pulled the slate gray canvas seat belt over her and secured it, carefully pulling the material of her dress taut, so as not to wrinkle her ensemble.

Mary reached into her periwinkle and yellow checked handbag, which had two pale brown leather 12 inch straps for a handle, and unzipped the main compartment, reaching inside for her keys and brushing against a brown leather wallet (which contained twenty-two dollars and thirty-one cents, her Visa card, her license and her library card), and her yellow satin makeup bag (which held her Maybelline Perfectly Peach blush, Cover Girl Long Wear Lipstick in Coquettish Coral, and Loreal Luscious Lash Mascara in Bonny Brown), and finally found her keys, which were on a chain with a 2-inch silver tag inscribed with the phrase "Life's A Bitch And So Am I" in red letters. She took the car key and placed it into the slot on the steering column and turned the ignition, all the while thinking tenderly of her beau, Biff, praying fervently for the rapid healing of his mottled skin, and hoping that by the time she reached him at Bart’s Bistro on South Main Street, his handsome face would be miraculously clear and the hurricane would have already been named Brian...

Chapter 3:  Wherein Mary Attempts to Leave the Driveway and Go Somewhere

After turning the key in the ignition of her pearl painted Honda Civic with gray leather bucket seats and ensuring a wrinkle-free secured seat belt, Mary checked her side mirrors, glanced into her rearview mirror, and shifted her car into reverse. She considered turning on the car radio but drew her hand back at the last moment, realizing that if the news was on and the weatherman should happen to speak, he may reveal the name of the potential hurricane, and if by some chance it was "Biff" she simply couldn't bear to hear the news when she was alone.  No, best to wait until she was with her beau, and they would face it together.

She applied just the right amount of pressure to the accelerator and backed the car down the driveway. Just as she reached the end, she moved her foot to the brake pedal and stopped the car, realizing that she was still distracted by thoughts about the ding in the door, the hurricane situation, and Biff’s recent forehead eruption.  In fact, she was so concerned she no longer felt able to drive, so she moved her right hand from the steering wheel to the gear shift and shifted into “park”. 

She reached into her purse, past her wallet containing twenty-two dollars and thirty-one cents, her Visa, library card and license; past her makeup case with her lipstick, blush and mascara, and finally located her cell phone.  It was a Verizon LG Smartphone in Electric Blue, and she had a precious photo of a Siamese kitten as a wallpaper on the screen, which she had downloaded from an LOL Cats website.  She quickly located Biff’s number, which was the third listed on her Contacts, and pressed the speed dial button.

Mary waited patiently at the end of her driveway while it rang four times.  She searched the sky above her as she waited, in the fervent hope that the robin would appear once more so that she could determine its gender and share the knowledge with Biff, but it had disappeared in yet another depressing development of the day.  She soon had to endure yet another disappointment as Biff did not answer, and she listened to his ringback tone of “I Like Big Butts And I Cannot Lie” before hearing the beep of his voicemail.  “Hello, Biff,” she said, “Please call me as soon as you can.  I am desperately worried and need to speak with you as soon as possible.”  She slid the phone shut and placed it back inside her purse, between the makeup bag and the brown leather Buxton wallet. She briefly considered the relevance of Biff’s ring tone in relation to the dimensions of her own backside and whether or not he would, in fact, be truthful in its description, but forced herself to set aside such distractions for the moment. With a heavy sigh (which, this time, could definitely be heard from across at least a large dining table), she decided that yes, she could bring herself to proceed with her errand even without having spoken to Biff.

Thus resolved, she put the gear shift into reverse once more, looked left and right and backed from the driveway.  She shifted into drive and proceeded at a cautious and legal speed toward the end of her road.  Seeing the stop sign up ahead, she slowed the car from 25, to 24, to 23….finally, she came to a complete stop.  She looked left, right, and left again, and seeing no other traffic, she crossed the intersection and continued on her way, employing (as always) the method of Defensive Driving she had learned long ago during her Driver’s Ed classes.  Even driving legally and defensively, she could still make it to the post office with plenty of time to spare before meeting Biff at Bart’s for brunch.

Just as she turned into the post office parking lot, a brick building at 321 Post Street which had fourteen windows on street side, her cell phone rang.  She reached into her proper periwinkle and yellow purse and withdrew the phone.  Happily, it was Biff.

“Oh, Biff, I’m so glad you called!”
“Mary, you sounded upset in your message.  Is everything all right? I was just preparing for our brunch date.”
Mary sighed loudly into the Electric Blue Verizon LG Smartphone.  “No, Biff, everything is not all right!” she admitted. “Not only do we need to worry about that hurricane, but I realized that I still have the ding in the car, and there are slugs in my new lawn, I don't have nearly enough information about the robin, and your…” Mary paused, considering mentioning Biff’s unfortunate blemish, but decided against it for fear of upsetting him or inadvertently causing him to attempt to look at it without a mirror again.  When he’d tried that last night, he’d become very unattractively cross-eyed and odd-looking, and Mary certainly didn’t want it to happen again, even if she couldn’t see it.  It simply didn’t bear thinking about.
“Well. That’s neither here nor there, I suppose.  Although, there is one more thing,” she said quietly. She had avoided thinking about this subject all morning, but with her inability to share the correct gender identity of the bird she’d observed and the necessity of skirting around the facial eruption topic, it seemed unavoidable.  “It has to do with…unpacking boxes.”
Biff remained silent.
Oh dear, Mary thought, ignoring the honks of the motorists behind her in the parking lot who apparently disagreed with her decision to stop in the center of the lot the very moment her phone rang. What if he won’t help?  What will I do then?
As the line of cars behind her piled up – there was a blue Toyota Tercel directly behind her, followed by a white Chrysler LeBaron, a black GMC Sierra pickup truck, and now a green Volkswagon Passat, whose owner was making a gesture that didn’t bear acknowledgement by a proper young lady – Mary sat and waited breathlessly for Biff’s response...

Will Biff help Mary?
Will she ever make it to Bart's in time for Brunch?
Will she find the courage to drive out of the post office parking lot?
Did the blighting blemish clear up?
Stay tuned for the next episode!

(to be continued.....)


  1. I actually was waiting for you to say she turned the key and the car blew up. Period. LOL

    I really love these two. They're perfectly proseful in a purple and periwinkle sort of way...


  2. Yes, despite their slightly (!!) shallow personalities, they do seem to be rather entertaining in their own painstakingly perfect way!

    Glad you are still enjoying! :)