[UNTITLED]
This is part of a grocery store fic I am writing based on a dream I had about the third season of VB :< I FINALLY STARTED IT
"Well, did you look in the cookie aisle? You know, sometimes they put cookies there."
Dr. Girlfriend pulled the two-way from her face and placed it against her thigh so she could properly express her feelings towards to little bit of instruction. She pursed her lips, counted to three and brought the screen once again in front of her face.
The Monarch's expression was knitted in a frown, half a lip cocked in displeasure. "Did you just screen me?"
Dr. Girlfriend didn't bother now and rolled her eyes in front of him. "No, listen."
"It cannot be that hard to find cookies," the Monarch pressed on.
"Of course it isn't," his wife snapped back, "they just didn't have Milanos."
"What?" he screeched. "That is impossible!"
"They have Chessmen cookies and you know, Pirouettes, you like Pirouettes?"
"Chessmen cookies? W-why the hell would I want Chessmen cookies?"
"Calm down -- people are staring," said Dr. Girlfriend firmly. "It's not a big deal."
The Monarch's face was a mask for a beat before every pretense of anger slid from it into a disappointed frown. "I had a craving."
"I could get you the store brand," said Dr. Girlfriend, pushing her cart past the ice cream aisle. In the hazy doors of the freezer she could see her faint outline, dark hair, tailored suit. Her eyes wandered downward for a moment as a noncommittal noise came from the speakers of the two way. She wondered when she would begin to show.
"Store brand? They don't have storebrand Milanos!"
"Yes they do," said Dr. Girlfriend flatly. "I just saw them."
"I don't want storebrand anything."
"Well, you want Milanos."
The Monarch's mouth twitched. "Well, this is going nowhere. Did you get the ... organic peanut butter?"
"Well, did you look in the cookie aisle? You know, sometimes they put cookies there."
Dr. Girlfriend pulled the two-way from her face and placed it against her thigh so she could properly express her feelings towards to little bit of instruction. She pursed her lips, counted to three and brought the screen once again in front of her face.
The Monarch's expression was knitted in a frown, half a lip cocked in displeasure. "Did you just screen me?"
Dr. Girlfriend didn't bother now and rolled her eyes in front of him. "No, listen."
"It cannot be that hard to find cookies," the Monarch pressed on.
"Of course it isn't," his wife snapped back, "they just didn't have Milanos."
"What?" he screeched. "That is impossible!"
"They have Chessmen cookies and you know, Pirouettes, you like Pirouettes?"
"Chessmen cookies? W-why the hell would I want Chessmen cookies?"
"Calm down -- people are staring," said Dr. Girlfriend firmly. "It's not a big deal."
The Monarch's face was a mask for a beat before every pretense of anger slid from it into a disappointed frown. "I had a craving."
"I could get you the store brand," said Dr. Girlfriend, pushing her cart past the ice cream aisle. In the hazy doors of the freezer she could see her faint outline, dark hair, tailored suit. Her eyes wandered downward for a moment as a noncommittal noise came from the speakers of the two way. She wondered when she would begin to show.
"Store brand? They don't have storebrand Milanos!"
"Yes they do," said Dr. Girlfriend flatly. "I just saw them."
"I don't want storebrand anything."
"Well, you want Milanos."
The Monarch's mouth twitched. "Well, this is going nowhere. Did you get the ... organic peanut butter?"