Comparison Intro Stuff
Having some issues making a decision, so this is me playing with personalities and scenarios. As they say, if you throw enough crap at a wall, some of it's bound to stick sometime. You'll notice there are some similarities between each one, but with personalities switched between the characters involved. Anyway, onwards we go.
Everything was almost set. Clothes had been taken out of boxes and folded, stored away in the closet and drawers. The phone had service, he was paid up for his first month, and the TV and couch were standing in the living room. A few more boxes were clustered in the back of his bedroom, and those Drew intended to unpack last. His shelves still needed to be dusted off, and he wanted to be sure each action figure and plastic-covered comic book had a similar spot to the set-up in his old bedroom. Maybe here he could make a theme instead of throwing it all out there haphazardly. He'd always wanted a tidier arrangement for his collection.
But for now he needed to take his contacts out and get to bed. Seven AM was going to come early. Obscenely early. Shuffling to his bathroom, the young man stopped to look at himself in the mirror. He prayed that tomorrow wasn't going to be a glasses day; his eyes were red in the corners from the contacts. He'd need to find an ophthalmologist in Marin too. Leaning in, he maneuvered the lenses out of his eyes and set them in their solution containers. Contacts were a risk--he'd read about corneal damage from not using them right, but in public it was important. No pairs of glasses ever sat right on his face, and they made him look, as Eli was fond of saying, like a turtle.
Eli wanted--Oh, crap! He was supposed to phone home tonight, like some kind of alien because his mother was 'worried about her baby.' Snapping the plastic container on the edge of the sink closed, he started into his bedroom to pick up his cell. The sinks and tub could be checked for how well the water ran when he was done there.
Then the phone started to ring in his hand, catching him off-guard. "Crap," he yelped again, startled, and had to take a second to catch his breath before looking at the display. Eli Cell. He flipped it open.
"Hey, Eli."
"Broski." Eli was never one for formality between family. Or close friends. Or anyone, really. "Survive the trip okay?"
"Yeah." Except for being so bored he could have cried. Sitting in coach with a notebook in his hand, he'd tried to write out a script but nothing came to mind. And the guy sitting next to him had kept staring until he'd closed it up. "It went okay."
"Sounds from here like it just went." He could hear the grin in his brother's voice. "Buy any girls' used panties from those crazy vending machines yet?"
Drew had long since grown used to Eli's form of shock value. He wasn't like his brother, or his mother and father, who were always cracking jokes (some lamer than others), and always on the go. "No. I was thinking of doing other things with my money. Like buying food."
"You're no fun, you know that?" Eli sounded sulky. "That's the first thing I would have done."
Eli couldn't see it, but Drew shrugged. "Then you'd have to call Mom at the end of the month and have her wire some cash to you."
"Don't remind me." The sulk deepened on the other end before the subject was changed. "She had an emergency teacher's meeting tonight over at the school, but wanted me to call and tell you good luck with the coaching tomorrow."
"I'm sure it'll go good," he said, wincing inwardly at his own bad grammar. Nobody liked a geek, so sometimes he needed to make mistakes on purpose. "I'm going to the office tomorrow to find out which class I'm assigned to."
"Good luck. Don't go getting glitterbombed--again."
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind," Drew deadpanned.
"I have to go call Cynthia now, all right? Take care, broman."
"You too." He hung up at the click on the other end and closed his phone. Yup, tomorrow was going to be interesting. Kids, a row of teenagers, popping their gum, shifting their feet, saying they didn't want to do laps, maybe planning--
It will be fine, he told himself, taking a breath and putting the phone down. No sense in worrying before he even got there, no sense making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe he'd find out if they had a rec center around here too somewhere. Sometimes physical activity was preferable to bending over a stalled amateur play on a table all day.
He returned to the bathroom, where he turned the water on to brush his teeth. Twisting the knobs, he hesitantly stuck his fingertip under the stream, fiddled with them some more, waited for it to run colder than most people would be comfortable with. The sink controls had some good response time, which was a major plus. Lukewarm water brought back things he didn't want to dwell on. He pushed back a knee-jerk chill in his blood and squeezed a line of toothpaste onto the bristles.
Now we'll see what scenario two does:
The plane ride from America to Japan had been incredibly, astronomically, and agonizingly boring. The only entertainment he'd allowed himself to have was to talk to the flight attendant, who hadn't taken kindly to his suggestion that he join her in the cockpit. After that, he'd sat and listened to the fat guy next to him snore most of the way through, and his fingers itched for the notebook he knew he had in his carry-on. A play about people blasting through space would be something new and different to write, better than whatever stuffy patrician crap his school put on every year so the snobby theater students could lord it over other people how 'edgy and deep' they were.
But he was in Japan now, in a town smaller and sleepier than had been advertised on the Internet, and he was concentrating on settling into his apartment. TV and stand up, check. Couch, check, bedroom almost done, big fat red check. He had a few last boxes to unpack, but he needed to think carefully about where he wanted to put everything in those. They needed the right arrangement, and he was happy his new room had enough shelves to be up to the job.
There was one last thing he needed to do, and put off testing the water in his first private bathroom to go to his room and pick up his cell. Which, as soon as he had it, already started to ring. Typical. Eli was like a mother hen.
"Hey, brother-man." Drew smiled as he flipped the phone open and held it to his ear. "Mom ask you to call, or are you missing me already?"
"Funny, Drew." Eli was quieter than his sibling, more like their parents. Sometimes Drew wondered where he came from. It was like storks were real and had dropped him down the Baileys' chimney when he was a baby. "Mom did ask me to call. She wanted to know if you know what you're doing tomorrow."
"Going to the high school, picking up my teaching schedule, and getting some 'pantsu' from one of those weird vending machines on the way home. You know, for fun. That thing you don't know as much about as I do."
"Because I'm not gross," Eli sighed. "I hope you didn't want to teach in Japan just to pick up on schoolgirls in their skirts."
"What?" Drew blinked at the phone. "Now you're the one being gross, bro. That's underage stuff. Jailbait. Give me credit for having some standards."
"Fine, look, I'm sorry. I have to go call Cynthia now, since she wanted to go out and do something tonight."
Drew grinned. "Like you?"
There was a choke from the other end, and the line died.
Too easy. Drew shut his phone and went to go brush his teeth. The sink worked okay when he turned the knobs, but the water changing temperature was a little too slow for him. Lukewarm water reminded him of that day when he'd--
Nope, shut off the negatory. Drew squeezed a line of toothpaste out on his brush and glanced at his eyes as he started to brush. He hoped tomorrow wasn't a nerd day where the lenses bothered him so much he'd need to remember where he'd left his glasses and put those on. Nothing like a group of teenagers thinking you were a geek from the get-go. That brought his thoughts back to the box sitting in his room on the floor.
Maybe he'd postpone having people over for awhile.
So, do people have preferences for one over the other?
Everything was almost set. Clothes had been taken out of boxes and folded, stored away in the closet and drawers. The phone had service, he was paid up for his first month, and the TV and couch were standing in the living room. A few more boxes were clustered in the back of his bedroom, and those Drew intended to unpack last. His shelves still needed to be dusted off, and he wanted to be sure each action figure and plastic-covered comic book had a similar spot to the set-up in his old bedroom. Maybe here he could make a theme instead of throwing it all out there haphazardly. He'd always wanted a tidier arrangement for his collection.
But for now he needed to take his contacts out and get to bed. Seven AM was going to come early. Obscenely early. Shuffling to his bathroom, the young man stopped to look at himself in the mirror. He prayed that tomorrow wasn't going to be a glasses day; his eyes were red in the corners from the contacts. He'd need to find an ophthalmologist in Marin too. Leaning in, he maneuvered the lenses out of his eyes and set them in their solution containers. Contacts were a risk--he'd read about corneal damage from not using them right, but in public it was important. No pairs of glasses ever sat right on his face, and they made him look, as Eli was fond of saying, like a turtle.
Eli wanted--Oh, crap! He was supposed to phone home tonight, like some kind of alien because his mother was 'worried about her baby.' Snapping the plastic container on the edge of the sink closed, he started into his bedroom to pick up his cell. The sinks and tub could be checked for how well the water ran when he was done there.
Then the phone started to ring in his hand, catching him off-guard. "Crap," he yelped again, startled, and had to take a second to catch his breath before looking at the display. Eli Cell. He flipped it open.
"Hey, Eli."
"Broski." Eli was never one for formality between family. Or close friends. Or anyone, really. "Survive the trip okay?"
"Yeah." Except for being so bored he could have cried. Sitting in coach with a notebook in his hand, he'd tried to write out a script but nothing came to mind. And the guy sitting next to him had kept staring until he'd closed it up. "It went okay."
"Sounds from here like it just went." He could hear the grin in his brother's voice. "Buy any girls' used panties from those crazy vending machines yet?"
Drew had long since grown used to Eli's form of shock value. He wasn't like his brother, or his mother and father, who were always cracking jokes (some lamer than others), and always on the go. "No. I was thinking of doing other things with my money. Like buying food."
"You're no fun, you know that?" Eli sounded sulky. "That's the first thing I would have done."
Eli couldn't see it, but Drew shrugged. "Then you'd have to call Mom at the end of the month and have her wire some cash to you."
"Don't remind me." The sulk deepened on the other end before the subject was changed. "She had an emergency teacher's meeting tonight over at the school, but wanted me to call and tell you good luck with the coaching tomorrow."
"I'm sure it'll go good," he said, wincing inwardly at his own bad grammar. Nobody liked a geek, so sometimes he needed to make mistakes on purpose. "I'm going to the office tomorrow to find out which class I'm assigned to."
"Good luck. Don't go getting glitterbombed--again."
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind," Drew deadpanned.
"I have to go call Cynthia now, all right? Take care, broman."
"You too." He hung up at the click on the other end and closed his phone. Yup, tomorrow was going to be interesting. Kids, a row of teenagers, popping their gum, shifting their feet, saying they didn't want to do laps, maybe planning--
It will be fine, he told himself, taking a breath and putting the phone down. No sense in worrying before he even got there, no sense making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe he'd find out if they had a rec center around here too somewhere. Sometimes physical activity was preferable to bending over a stalled amateur play on a table all day.
He returned to the bathroom, where he turned the water on to brush his teeth. Twisting the knobs, he hesitantly stuck his fingertip under the stream, fiddled with them some more, waited for it to run colder than most people would be comfortable with. The sink controls had some good response time, which was a major plus. Lukewarm water brought back things he didn't want to dwell on. He pushed back a knee-jerk chill in his blood and squeezed a line of toothpaste onto the bristles.
Now we'll see what scenario two does:
The plane ride from America to Japan had been incredibly, astronomically, and agonizingly boring. The only entertainment he'd allowed himself to have was to talk to the flight attendant, who hadn't taken kindly to his suggestion that he join her in the cockpit. After that, he'd sat and listened to the fat guy next to him snore most of the way through, and his fingers itched for the notebook he knew he had in his carry-on. A play about people blasting through space would be something new and different to write, better than whatever stuffy patrician crap his school put on every year so the snobby theater students could lord it over other people how 'edgy and deep' they were.
But he was in Japan now, in a town smaller and sleepier than had been advertised on the Internet, and he was concentrating on settling into his apartment. TV and stand up, check. Couch, check, bedroom almost done, big fat red check. He had a few last boxes to unpack, but he needed to think carefully about where he wanted to put everything in those. They needed the right arrangement, and he was happy his new room had enough shelves to be up to the job.
There was one last thing he needed to do, and put off testing the water in his first private bathroom to go to his room and pick up his cell. Which, as soon as he had it, already started to ring. Typical. Eli was like a mother hen.
"Hey, brother-man." Drew smiled as he flipped the phone open and held it to his ear. "Mom ask you to call, or are you missing me already?"
"Funny, Drew." Eli was quieter than his sibling, more like their parents. Sometimes Drew wondered where he came from. It was like storks were real and had dropped him down the Baileys' chimney when he was a baby. "Mom did ask me to call. She wanted to know if you know what you're doing tomorrow."
"Going to the high school, picking up my teaching schedule, and getting some 'pantsu' from one of those weird vending machines on the way home. You know, for fun. That thing you don't know as much about as I do."
"Because I'm not gross," Eli sighed. "I hope you didn't want to teach in Japan just to pick up on schoolgirls in their skirts."
"What?" Drew blinked at the phone. "Now you're the one being gross, bro. That's underage stuff. Jailbait. Give me credit for having some standards."
"Fine, look, I'm sorry. I have to go call Cynthia now, since she wanted to go out and do something tonight."
Drew grinned. "Like you?"
There was a choke from the other end, and the line died.
Too easy. Drew shut his phone and went to go brush his teeth. The sink worked okay when he turned the knobs, but the water changing temperature was a little too slow for him. Lukewarm water reminded him of that day when he'd--
Nope, shut off the negatory. Drew squeezed a line of toothpaste out on his brush and glanced at his eyes as he started to brush. He hoped tomorrow wasn't a nerd day where the lenses bothered him so much he'd need to remember where he'd left his glasses and put those on. Nothing like a group of teenagers thinking you were a geek from the get-go. That brought his thoughts back to the box sitting in his room on the floor.
Maybe he'd postpone having people over for awhile.
So, do people have preferences for one over the other?