Angela's journal, Sept. 22

[chasingangela]

[OOC: Written while Angela waits for Marty to wake up at the clinic. Private entry.]

I think every day here is weird, but this one truly deserves the label, even after the flowers.

For starters? I had lunch with Phoebe., whose recent problems kind of make mine look like nothing. We fantasized about an island without boys, but with plenty of wine, chocolate and cats.

Then Marty took me to the shooting range.

Then I accidentally shot him in the butt and had to take him to the clinic. My first time with a gun, and I manage to put someone in the clinic. I'm not sure there will be a second time.

Then -- while heavily drugged and having shrapnel scraped out of his butt -- he asked me to homecoming. This wasn't, like, my romantic fantasy, but it does seem to be how things work for us.

I said yes, but I'm not sure he heard me. Too busy passing out.

Then I somehow got roped into helping with Homecoming. I have no idea what's going on, there, but Lilly is strangely persuasive...

Comments

[geoff-chaucer.livejournal.com]

[OOC: You do realize, of course, that if Angela were to come down and visit Geoff, he'd be more than happy to say more than five words to her. :)

And, hey, doesn't the poem count as more than five words?]

[chasingangela]

[OOC: Angela was feeling a little sorry for herself and suffering from selective amnesia when she talked to Phoebe. But yes, the poem does count, and I'll send her to the store today.]