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 To Turn Mountains Into Molehills
Stacey Oswald
Posted: Feb 22 2011, 11:55 PM


Group: Archived
Posts: 25
Member No.: 12
Joined: 4-September 10

Stacey Oswald has a system.

Summer time is the time for hot pizza, leftovers at night. It’s the time for cold pizza, found with a beer early in the morning. It’s a time for lazing around the house on the couch when he didn’t have to go to work. For sleeping in the mornings when he didn’t have work, until at least three in the morning, and staying in the house until the sky started to show hints of it getting dark. Or until How I Met Your Mother was over, either way.

It was then that the night life started to take off, and either the second job kicked in, or the time for being a lazy sack of shit or finishing up with work was over. It was then that the pizza went back into the fridge, and he didn’t even bother to change his clothes. He would take off and wander: with one of his guitars, a kazoo, a vuvuzela. Sometimes nothing at all.

He’d wondered if that was the reason Nayeli had left. Because, there had to be a reason. No note or anything, shit. Or, if there was one, it was lost in the abyss of a man taking over what little cleanliness the woman had.

She’d gone about a week ago. Half her things gone.

Ozzy, confused, had found it odd living alone. Smelly too. Not all that easy to sleep without hearing the rustling of someone else in the house. He’d never actually lived alone before.

So he made the system. Instead of moping, he went out at night.

Tonight, he wandered the streets with a harmonica carefully snug in his hand. Tonight, grinning like mad, he walked past Times Square in search of a bar or somewhere he could play some bluesy tune. He’d had off this morning, he’d had off tonight. No work, and while this meant no cash.

Well, he had pizza.

He had a hat on his head.

He had the kindness of strangers to rely on.

Screw the bar, Ozzy slumped against a nearby wall instead, bathed in light. There were enough people out. He blew into the harmonica. And kept blowing. Did we mention he’s not all that great at harmonica? Cos, yeah, that’s worth mentioning.

Is it also worth mentioning he stops every few seconds to flirt with the girls who even pause to look at him?

Yeah, that’s worth mentioning.
Vanessa Abrams
Posted: May 13 2011, 02:11 PM

the beloved outcast.

Group: Archived
Posts: 29
Member No.: 79
Joined: 4-May 11

Vanessa Abrams, the girl with a plan.

Not really.

Well, I mean, hey, if you count 'wandering Times Square while wondering what the hell to do since plans with B were cancelled' as plans? She definitely had one; however, it doesn't really sound like too much of a plan. Vee was fine with that, though. A planned life is a boring life, don't you agree? She liked things to just happen to her. Well, good things, anyways. Who likes having bad things happen to them? Honestly?

Street performers, they were all over. Vanessa had to admit, that was one good part about Times Square- something was always going on to catch her interest. But what would it be today? It would take a lot to raise her now sour mood. No, not the dancers, definitely not the mime....her eyes wandered, as did her mind.

There was someone she hadn't seen in over a month, someone she, well, frankly, missed. Not as anything more than a friend- she could never see him as boyfriend material or anything of the sort- but, oddly enough, she found Ozzie on her mind. He was a sweet guy. She wondered what he'd been getting into lately. She paid little attention to what was around her as she walked, lost in memories of spending time with the boy. It really had been too long.

You know what they say, V, speak of the devil....

Someone is absolutely horrible at the harmonica. Duly noted, Vanessa. Kind of like Ozzie, he never could play harmonica to save his life. She glanced towards the horrific music, just out of curiosity....and stopped.

Wait. Rewind. Press play. Stacey Oswald was leaned against a wall, not even ten feet in front of her....playing the harmonica in such a way that the inventor of the instrument was probably rolling around in his or her grave. A smile slowly spread across Vee's lips, and she made her way over. As horrific as the music sounded, it was Ozzie playing, and that gave it a bittersweet type of talent to it.

You could tell he had a little heart behind it, at least.

"Well, well, Stacey Oswald. It's been a while." Vanessa's smile was a charming one. "Still absolutely horrible at the harmonica (Yes, V, we know, we've been reminded multiple times...) but still trying. For what? For a chance to flirt with some girls?" She knew him all too well. "You could've just called me if you wanted someone to flirt with. At least I would've reciprocated."

We don't doubt that for a moment, V.
Stacey Oswald
Posted: May 18 2011, 04:35 AM


Group: Archived
Posts: 25
Member No.: 12
Joined: 4-September 10

From his spot on the ground, Ozzy looked up and decided he had a simply wonderful view.

“Oh, come on V, I’m not that bad. Where‘s your sis, she would totally appreciate,” he sang mildly, a sort of calm coming from him that hadn’t been seen by the girls he’d flirted with tonight on the streets. Or, really, as calmly as Stacey Oswald can be without completely jumping out of his skin. That said, Vanessa’s familiar face was met with Ozzy’s equally familiar grin beaming up at her while one of his legs stretched out, his foot catching her behind the ankle, tugging gently enough to put pressure there.

Not that bad at both harmonica and flirting? Perhaps good, but only pretending to be bad. Perhaps, fucking awesome and pretending to gain pity from those girls who liked losers. Maybe he was telepathic, and sensed Vanessa Abrams sashaying up Times Square.

Didn’t she date that one loser poet?

Yeah, he’s totally telepathic. Only problem is, he doesn’t know it yet.

(Or maybe he’s really awful at all these things, and he’s just pretending he’s good pretending he’s awful. But, you’ve got to admit, it takes either a real genius or a real egomaniac to get that far with this sort of shit. Or to be that persistent with it. Either that or it took a real dumbass, another role Ozzy was willing to take. And, hey now--)

“You’re right, I haven’t seen you in a while. But, hey, if you want to sit here and add a little mack to the cash I’m making out here, V,” at this, flashing a five dollar bill one of the girls had given him to stop making kissy faces at her. “I’ll buy you a slice of pizza.”

On second thought (Nay always hated pizza, always complained, always--) on second thought--

“Or no, never mind. A drink. Or something.”
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