Welcome back for another
installment of Biff and Mary!
Sorry for the delay in posting new chapters...
For those who want to start from the beginning, click the "Biff and Mary" tab above, or here: Biff and Mary
For those who want to start from the beginning, click the "Biff and Mary" tab above, or here: Biff and Mary
As usual, within this next chapter we will be treated to our beloved
TSTL heroine’s every vapid thought, Biff’s general buff-ness, and excessive
description of every little thing. You
may also notice some really poor transitioning, run-on sentences and
unfortunate alliteration.
Enjoy! J
Chapter 9: In Which Brunch is Served and Boxes are Contemplated
When we last left our lovebirds,
Biff was professing his affection for Mary over a table at Bart’s Bistro, leaning
toward her with obvious intent…
A
pale, freckled arm with four silver bracelets clanking at the wrist unceremoniously
inserted itself between Biff and Mary, placing a basket of rolls and butter between
them and causing Biff to settle back into his seat.
Mary
swallowed back her disappointment as well as her annoyance at the timing of the
wrist’s owner, their server Lorraine. She smiled at her politely instead.
“Your
salads’ll be right up,” Lorraine announced, spinning quickly on her heel to head
back toward the kitchen, the damage done.
Biff
cleared his throat politely and reached for the basket, holding it out to
Mary. She declined and smiled at him
winningly, wondering how to recapture that romantic moment so suddenly and sadly
interrupted. She stole another glance at Biff, studiously setting her gaze
below his blemished brow in order to fully appreciate the view, then sighed
with resignation, unrolled her beige linen napkin and set it on her lap in preparation
for her Caesar Salad.
The
following morning, Mary woke early and went immediately to the shower to
prepare for her unpacking day with her beloved beau, Biff.
She
washed her hair with Paul Mitchell Extra Body Daily Shampoo, followed by Paul
Mitchell Extra Body Daily Rinse, and sudsed up her loofah with Origins Fresh
Waterlily Bodybar, then washed and shaved with her Daisy razor.
Once
finished in the shower, she was toweling off leisurely when she heard a tiny
yelp from outside the bathroom door.
“Poopsie!”
she exclaimed, grabbing a plush terrycloth robe from the back of the door
before opening it.
“Oh,
Poopsie, I’m sorry!” she said, reaching down to scoop the pup into her arms. “I
forgot all about taking you out for your morning constitutional!” She shuffled down the hall, skirting around
boxes, all the way through to the back door.
She stepped outside and set Poopsie down on the long grass. The pouty Pomeranian stared up at her
sullenly before shaking her mass of fur – tinted a pretty, powdery pink at
Paulette’s Pampered Pooch Emporium on the corner of Pearl and Pickwick – and
stalking toward the backyard azaleas, her tail curled high over her backside and
the glittered, hot pink nails on her paws sparkling in the sunshine.
“Oh,
Poopsie, don’t be like that,” Mary implored, nervously touching her damp hair.
If she didn’t style it soon, who knew if she’d be ready when Biff arrived? She
certainly wasn’t willing to let him see her undone!
“I’m
sorry I forgot you this morning, sweetiekins.
I’m just so excited about Biff coming here today!”
The
Pomeranian pointedly ignored her, clearly humiliated at the need to beg for
such a basic necessity, as if she were a common
dog!
As
Mary cooed endearments from the back door, Poopsie continued to snub her defiantly,
then finished her business behind the flowering bush and sauntered slowly
toward Mary, stopping every few steps to sniff at a dandelion or bug, ignoring
her owner’s encouragement to hurry.
Finally, she wandered close enough to be scooped up in Mary’s arms and
brought back inside.
Mary
shut the door and pulled the tab top to open a can of Chef Michael’s Pork Tenderloin
Flavor Pate. She took a stainless steel spoon from a box on the charcoal-gray granite counter
and scooped the food into Poopsie’s hot pink, personalized ceramic bowl, then
set it on the velvet placemat in the corner of the kitchen. Poopsie watched her sedately from her seat on
the purple and yellow kitchen rug, then got up and went to the bowl, sniffing
it delicately before reaching out a tiny pink tongue to taste it. She licked
twice, then promptly turned her nose up and regally exited the room.
“Poopsie,
you have to eat, sweetie!” Mary
called to her, following her into the living room. Poopsie was turning in small circles on her
plush purple pillow in the corner by the fireplace, finally settling down and
resting her chin on pink-nailed paws, gazing off at some far more interesting point
beyond Mary’s shoulder.
Mary
sighed, “you really are mad at me aren’t you?”
Poopsie closed her eyes, clearly bored by the events.
Mary
shook her head, then headed back toward the master bath. She knew she needed to
make it up to her precious Poopsie, but she simply couldn’t wait any longer, or
Biff would see her with wet hair and without her makeup, an unimaginable
faux-pas.
Chapter Ten: In Which Biff Encounters a Cranky Canine
The
doorbell rang thirty-one minutes later, and Mary rushed down the hall to answer
the door. She hadn’t been quite sure
what to wear for the dreaded unpacking of boxes, which was something she had
certainly expected others to offer to do for her, but if it was what she needed
to do to show Biff what a perfectly capable woman she was, she’d do it! Thus, she’d dressed casually, in a pair of plum-colored
pedal pushers, with white cotton blouse with delicate cap sleeves and a pair of
two-and-one-half-inch-cork-heeled sandals from which her purple pedicured toes peeked. Amethyst earrings and a matching necklace and
bracelet completed her ensemble – perfect, she thought, for a casual day
doing….something…with all the boxes. And
Biff.
Mary
opened the door to find her beloved Biff standing on her new Welcome mat, which
she’d purchased just yesterday at The Home Depot for the advertised low-low
price of $17.99, plus tax. Biff smiled
roguishly, as he was wont to do, and Mary melted where she stood on the misty green ceramic tiled foyer floor.
He’d
chosen a pair of relaxed vintage blue jeans from Banana Republic, paired with a
pique polo in Navy Star blue with its collar turned up, which set off his
dreamy blue eyes and bright smile. He
wore a 1-3/4 inch brown leather belt with distressed metal buckle and brown
suede oxford shoes. He carried a small brown leather satchel in the same shade
as his belt and shoes, along with the key ring that held the keys to his prized
Prius as well as a key to his front door, back door, entry gate, and safety deposit
box.
“Good
morning, Mary,” he said, giving his head a handsome little flip which set his sun-kissed blond with approximately 23 darker streaks hair drifting
upwards for a moment before it settled with a dashing air slightly over the outer
third of his left eyebrow.
“Good
morning, Biff,” Mary breathed, momentarily mesmerized by the magnificent
manliness before her.
“You
are looking lovely today, as always,” Biff said. “Er…may I come in?”
“Oh!”
Mary snapped out of her love-induced-daze and stepped back, waving vaguely toward
the interior of the house. “Yes, of course!”
Biff
stepped inside just as a low growl emanated from the living room doorway.
Poopsie’s
powder pink head peeked around the corner, and she started barking ferociously, the pastel pink polka-dot bow on her head bobbing dangerously to the left as the force of
her efforts lifted all four paws from the floor repeatedly.
“Poopsie!
Is that any way to greet our guest?” Mary chastised as she reached down to
scoop up the pup. “This is Biff, Poopsie.
Biff, this is my precious Poopsie!”
She grasped Poopsie’s pink-tipped paw in her hand and waved at Biff with
it.
Biff’s
smile widened and he stepped closer, reaching his hand out palm-up toward
Poopsie.
“So,
this is the lovely Poopsie I’ve heard so much about!”
As
his hand drifted ever closer, the left side of Poopsie’s mouth lifted ever
higher, exposing tiny, well-brushed, sharp canines. She growled deeply then lunged toward Biff.
(to
be continued)
Will Poopsie puncture
Biff’s perfect palm?
What’s in Biff’s
satchel?
Will Mary and Biff
battle boxes without wrinkling their well-pressed ensembles?
Tune in next time! J
I can tell that poopsie "inherrited" some traits from Trooper and Bella
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