Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Biff and Mary: Chapters 9 and 10

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
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

1 comment:

  1. I can tell that poopsie "inherrited" some traits from Trooper and Bella