Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Biff and Mary, Chapters 4 and 5

Welcome back for another episode of "The Amorous Adventures of Biff and Mary"!

(Note:  As much of this is already written, I will be updating frequently, as time allows, though not on a regular schedule. Please feel free to check back or subscribe for new posts!

Need to catch up?  Previous chapters:

Introducing Biff and Mary

Biff and Mary, Chapters 2 and 3

Hope to bring a smile to your face today! :)

Chapter 4: Mary’s Journey Toward the Bistro Continues…

When we last checked in with our devoted and descriptive duo, poor blemished Biff was preparing for brunch and our exceptionally ensembled Mary was breathlessly awaiting his response to her enigmatic statement about unpacking boxes…

Mary switched her cell phone to her right hand and used her left to push the button on her door, closing her windows to block out the cacophony of blowing horns emanating from the Toyota, the Chrysler, the GMC and the Volkswagon, which had now been joined by a Mustang and a Prius. She was determined to stay right where she was, knowing that her beloved beau, Biff, deserved her undivided attention and certain that if she had a moment (or two…or possibly three) to devote to explaining her various dilemmas to the crowd of motorists behind her, they would surely understand and would very happily wait until she was ready to drive again.  This thought brought about an overall feeling of solidarity and companionship with her new friends in the post office parking lot and she spared a moment to look over her shoulder at the line of cars behind her to offer them her most grateful and dazzling Crest White Strips smile, perfectly set off by the careful outlining of her lips in Cover Girl Long Wear Lipstick in Coquettish Coral and finished off with a precisely choreographed wave, flawlessly emulating that of Her Majesty The Queen, who had waved so beautifully to the crowds of well-wishers at the wedding of her grandson, Prince William, to the lovely and fashionable Kate Middleton.

Accepting the increased horn-blowing and various gestures from driver’s side windows as tribute to her kind acknowledgement of their understanding, Mary turned her attention back to the Verizon LG Smartphone in her hand, from which emanated the politely delicate throat-clearing sounds of her beau, Biff.
“…uh, Mary?  Are you still there?”
“Oh, yes!  Of course I am, Biff!” Mary answered.  “I’m sorry; I was a bit distracted by my new friends for a moment. You were saying….?”
“Yes. I was just asking…what boxes?”
“Oh! Well, the boxes I moved here with, of course.”
“Mary, you moved here five months ago.  Haven’t you finished the unpacking yet?”
“Well…no, I haven’t, Biff.  You see, I was waiting for my neighbors to gather and come over to welcome me and naturally I thought that when they did, they would offer to unpack for me and do some yard work and cleaning and install new kitchen tile and such, but so far I’ve only seen little Lily Littleton whose mother sent her with a plate of brownies in March…”
“Okay,” Biff said. “Why don’t we talk this over at brunch, Mary?  I’m sure we can come up with something, but at the moment my hair is drying without the blow dryer, and I cringe to think…’
“Oh! Of course, Biff!” Mary interrupted, determinedly blocking the vision of Biff with bedhead and a blemish from her mind. “You go on, and I’ll see you at Bart’s!”
Biff said goodbye and Mary pressed the disconnect button on her Verizon LG Smartphone and placed it back into her periwinkle and yellow checked handbag between the Buxton wallet and her makeup bag, being sure to zip the purse carefully and set it on the seat beside her before turning to offer another bright smile at her increasing crowd of supporters in the line of cars behind her.  She shifted into drive and searched for a parking spot, overcome by the apparent heartfelt support of the well-wishing cheers emanating from the vehicles behind her as she drove away.

Chapter 5:  Wherein Mary Arrives at the Bistro

When Mary had arrived at Bart’s Bistro, there was no sign of Biff.  
She asked for a table by the window so she could watch for his arrival and simultaneously avoid the weather reports on the television by the coffee bar, as she still couldn't bear to face the possibility of learning that Biff's future may well be formed by a tropical storm event and its eventual naming, but once she'd been seated she became distracted by the window itself.  The glass was clear, and the window was tastefully decorated with lovely brocade curtains in Bart’s signature colors of blue and brown, edged with decorative satin fringe in ivory, regrettably only machine-stitched rather than hand-sewn but quite nice nonetheless, she thought.  
However, there was a bit of unsightly dust gathered in the corner of the mahogany-stained window sill as well as what appeared to be a wing part from a dead fly and Mary shuddered to think of how she could possibly eat her Caesar’s Salad with Grilled Chicken and a side order of Minestrone soup with one-quarter teaspoon of Parmesan sprinkled on top if she knew that all along, there was a fly part resting amongst the dust approximately six-and-three-quarter-inches from the edge of her table. Even if she did manage, she was sure that she’d never be able to enjoy herself enough to fully appreciate the espresso and homemade tiramisu afterward. Knowing that Bart and his staff prided themselves on their exquisite taste and cleanliness and certain that her comfort was surely utmost in the mind of her server, Mary searched the room to find her and flag her down just at the moment her beau, Biff, walked through the door.

As usual, Biff’s entrance garnered not a few stares from appreciative women.  Tall, lightly tanned and well built from his daily afternoons on the tennis court, he was dressed in perfectly-pressed navy blue slacks from Nordstrom’s, with a matching jacket and a pale gray business shirt (Saks), informally unbuttoned at the neck in the most appropriate fashion for a romantic brunch with his girl.  Mary was relieved to see that she hadn’t distracted him too badly from his toilette earlier, as his blonde hair with approximately twenty-three darker shades streaked throughout was styled and clearly blow-dried to perfection, as usual.  She sighed appreciatively but not heavily, sighing the kind of sigh one sighs when one spots the wonderful man who is the love of one’s life, and then raised her hand slightly to guide him to their table.  He spotted her and smiled, and Mary squinted a bit to try to ascertain the condition of the unsightly blemish but quickly realized he was still too far away.  She  tore her gaze away as he approached, glancing shyly down at demurely-clasped hands in her lap, as was expected of a polite and well-appointed young lady of breeding.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, Mary,” Biff said, tossing his head to flip back the perfectly coiffed forelock that tended to drift with dashing derring-do into his left eye. “Traffic was simply horrendous, my Prius had barely charged, and I was already running late because I had to re-do my hair.”
“Oh, perfectly understandable,” Mary said. “Think nothing of it.”  
She squinted again as she looked into Biff’s face and was at first relieved to note that the blemish was not apparent today, but then began squinting more because she wasn’t sure, but she thought she’d caught the barest glimpse of residue from what was likely an application of Revlon Cover-It-Up Concealer in Light/Medium followed by a strategic dusting of matching Revlon Age-Is-Just-A-Number Matte Powder to set it…
“Have you ordered anything?” Biff asked, interrupting her train of thought as he removed his jacket with his usual grace before folding it carefully and placing it on the seat next to him.
“No, I was waiting for you, of course,” Mary replied. “And I was also thinking about calling the server over to do something about these unfortunate fly bits here by the…”  She gestured toward the windowsill and glanced out toward the parking area.  
“Wait a minute…is that…?  Yes, I think it is!” she exclaimed, rising from her seat and peering toward the entrance.  “It is her!”
“Her, who?” Biff asked, his brows drawing down in a confused frown that effectively hid the small portion of his face where the blemish may still, in fact, exist.  He twisted slightly in his seat to follow her gaze.
Mary waved frantically toward the entrance.  “BITSY!!"

(to be continued)

Who is Bitsy?
Will Mary be able to enjoy brunch in spite of the insect parts nearby?
Will we learn more about Biff’s talent with concealer  and the possible hurricane nomenclature?

Stay tuned!  J


  1. Bwahahahaha!!! Too, too funny. You've hit every mistake new writers make. Love it.

  2. Yes, those run-ons do run on, don't they? ;)
    Thanks for reading -- Biff and Mary thrive on attention! :)