Peter Godwright, leading character in this book I'm writing, or trying to write or whatever, has probably eaten popcorn. I say probably because while I know about some of the things he's been doing for the last couple of weeks, there are many secrets that he's yet to share with me. Even so I'm pretty certain that he's eaten popcorn. Here are other things I'm going to say are probably true about him.
After writing that, I can think of only one thing to say, something that Godwright always says, 'um'.
Here's an excerpt:
"Because I’ve been working on them constantly at the gym,” said Fellena, "and I feel like they’re just getting too damn bulky.” She gripped the protruding sun-tanned calf of her crossed leg. "I mean, when I walk I can actually feel the thing jiggling. Is that attractive? Is that sexy? A jiggling, eggplant of a calf that is really firm but also jiggles cause it’s so big?"
"Um–"
"But you weren’t looking at my legs so you probably have no idea what I’m talking about," Fellena said, taking a bite of her sandwich as I stared at her legs.
"Um," I continued.
She chewed, nonplussed, on her sandwich. A bit of mustard had smeared onto her bottom lip, and it moved up and down as she chewed.
"Um," I said again, wanting to inform her that she had mustard on her lip but not wanting to, too. "You got a–"
"What?" she asked.
"You got a bit of–" I pointed to my own bottom lip to show her what I meant.
Image courtesy of Weebly, which Godwright is unfamiliar with because he doesn't blog.
- When Godwright's high school prom date dumped him on the big night because one of the princes asked her if she'd give his royal highness head instead and she acquiesced, Godwright stayed home and watched movies on Lifetime, munched on popcorn, and overall probably had a better time than he would have had trying to sneak peaks at his date's cleavage all through the night.
- When his microwave–which has its very own special button for nuking the treat that I'm pretty certain he sometimes eats–burns his popcorn, he doesn't get mad. He just nukes another bag of popcorn and then wonders why the second batch didn't get burnt like the first one even though he pushed the same special button.
- He's never purchased popcorn at the theater because he's not fucking rich, he's a teacher.
- The feeling of getting out a popcorn shell thing wedged between two of Godwright's teeth brings him overwhelming relief that he can only compare to hearing the final bell ring at the end of a long school day.
- Every day at school is a long school day.
- But not every bag of popcorn that he eats is consumed after a long school day. He sometimes eats popcorn on holidays and weekends.
- One time he poured milk over a bowl of left-out popcorn from the night before. He thought it was his beloved Kix cereal.
- He thinks that people who buy those big bags of popcorn, like the buttery kind or that weird white cheddar cheese coated junk, are entitled to their own interesting tastes.
- When he pops his last bag of popcorn, he writes 'popcorn' on the grocery list he magnets to the fridge.
- One time he asked Fellena, who is pregnant and told him he might be the father, if she likes popcorn. She said no because it goes straight to her calves and that they're already big enough from all the lunges she does at the gym.
- He ate popcorn alone that night.
After writing that, I can think of only one thing to say, something that Godwright always says, 'um'.
Here's an excerpt:
"Because I’ve been working on them constantly at the gym,” said Fellena, "and I feel like they’re just getting too damn bulky.” She gripped the protruding sun-tanned calf of her crossed leg. "I mean, when I walk I can actually feel the thing jiggling. Is that attractive? Is that sexy? A jiggling, eggplant of a calf that is really firm but also jiggles cause it’s so big?"
"Um–"
"But you weren’t looking at my legs so you probably have no idea what I’m talking about," Fellena said, taking a bite of her sandwich as I stared at her legs.
"Um," I continued.
She chewed, nonplussed, on her sandwich. A bit of mustard had smeared onto her bottom lip, and it moved up and down as she chewed.
"Um," I said again, wanting to inform her that she had mustard on her lip but not wanting to, too. "You got a–"
"What?" she asked.
"You got a bit of–" I pointed to my own bottom lip to show her what I meant.
Image courtesy of Weebly, which Godwright is unfamiliar with because he doesn't blog.