V
Vermiciro
Guest
Tinkering and fixing shit, Judith's interest piqued at that. Rare were the times that she encountered a fully-functioning appliance that didn't require a song and rain-dance of appeasement before capitulating to its given function. "You're a fixer." Judith stated, emphasizing the syllable. "Man, can you fix microwaves?" she asked, rambling ahead in story without room for answer. "We went through so many of those fuckers as a kid. Swear t' god, they'd shit themselves at the sight of my elder sister, Merriam. She was so fucking careless. Put metal in the microwave, cooked a burrito for twenty-fucking-one minutes and melted it into the plate. The time she set one a them Arby's foil wrappers on fire was a real kicker. God our house smelt like fuck more times than not."
Absently, memory fleeting in the forgetful waves of inebriation, Judith reached for her glass only to find it empty at her lips. Disappointment subtly creased her lineaments. She wanted another drink, was tempted to snag Callie's, waiving whatever modicum of manners Judith had left. But she didn't. Instead, Judith looked to her plate, sandwich barely eaten. Thought of finishing what remained was nauseating despite the yawning hunger she felt. After drinking, it was unlikely the course would stay down.
"Think they got some styrofoam shit or a bag or... something?" Judith asked. "Pack this puppy up for later."
Absently, memory fleeting in the forgetful waves of inebriation, Judith reached for her glass only to find it empty at her lips. Disappointment subtly creased her lineaments. She wanted another drink, was tempted to snag Callie's, waiving whatever modicum of manners Judith had left. But she didn't. Instead, Judith looked to her plate, sandwich barely eaten. Thought of finishing what remained was nauseating despite the yawning hunger she felt. After drinking, it was unlikely the course would stay down.
"Think they got some styrofoam shit or a bag or... something?" Judith asked. "Pack this puppy up for later."