I’m in You’re House!
Bry’s Blob / June 18, 2015
Though I spell checked this sucker, It will appear oblivious very quickly that I am fairy snookered, so I won’t pretend I didn’t just Polish off the twenty-sifter of rum I found stashed in the caboose of your liquor cabinet. I promise not to touch the 18-year Glenmorgie with the “happy birth day!” scrawled on the box, which I get your saving for your triumph ant return.
Love that bullet holed No Trespass sign at your door. Yeah, I’m in your house now, I’m your official house sister until Ingrid comes back. If she ever does.
[EXT. WRITING CABIN —DAY]
[Ingrid pulls up in her beater, rut sacks and a suitcase in the back. The folks singer from the bar, Chester Something, riding shotgun, only with a banjo, and he’s singing “Blowing in the Wind,” and it looks luck they’re planing to get out of Dodge.
POMERANTZ: Where’s Moose?
INGRID: Oft on his fishing boot. [extends house keys.] I’m sure you’ll look after your brother’s place real good.
POMERANTZ: Absolutely. My plea sure.
INGRID: Awesome. [extends 2 pages of house rules.]
POMERANTZ: When is Bill coming back?
POMERANTZ: I’ll look after it like its my home.
[She hands Pomerantz a bottle of BugOff.] For the termites that got into the back wall. The toilet plugs, so you wanna watch that.
POMERANTZ: No problem.
INGRID: Right on. Totally.
Totally, man. Finally, a real bed with fluffy pillows. Kitchen, cooking wear, fridge. A John, which I’ll baby, not to worry. A bat tub!