Word Count: 588
Warnings: some language
Author's Note: Meet Nick and Theo, the protagonists of my Script Frenzy. :D I was stuck with the prompt and figured I'd let them play around, since I need to be thinking about them anyway. :) Thanks to eltea for beta work, as always! ^^
Theo extricated a portrait-sized picture frame from a pile of fragments like it and raised it to fit his face.
“This just in,” he intoned. “We honestly can’t find anything better to do on a Saturday than play in Nick’s attic.”
Nick was digging through a trunk that would have been a dress-up player’s dream. His attic was pretty much the place where everything outdated, outmoded, unused, or unusual went to die.
“At least you’ll remember this,” he countered. “Whereas you probably would not remember watching ‘Iron Man’ for the twenty-second time.”
“It’s a good movie,” Theo protested, abandoning the frame in favor of unearthing another unlabeled cardboard box.
“It’s an excellent movie,” Nick responded, “but when you can tell me the color of Jeff Bridges’s tie in every scene, you’ve seen it too many times.”
“Pink,” Theo remarked absently, jabbing the largest blade of the Swiss army knife at the packing tape. “Green. Blue. None.”
“That’s horrifying,” Nick decided.
“I made them up,” Theo announced, ripping tape away and cringing at the earth-shattering sound as incredibly persistent adhesive shredded the cardboard flaps. “But I can tell you how Gwyneth Paltrow does her hair.”
“You’re an inspiration to us all,” Nick assured him.
“Dude,” Theo said into the box. “Check this out.”
Nick clambered to his feet, rubbed at his itching nose, and picked his way through the intricate maze of discarded treasures to peer over Theo’s polo-shirt-clad shoulder.
“It’s a record player,” he noted, none too surprised and none too impressed.
“I thought they burned all of these in the Compact Disc Inauguration Ceremony of ninety-three,” Theo remarked.
Nick glanced at him. “The what?”
“Joke,” Theo informed him.
“Jerk,” Nick said.
“See if you can find any LPs.”
“See if you can find a new BFF.”
“Racist,” Theo decided.
“Racist,” Nick replied, “would be if I was un-befriending you because you’re black. I’m un-befriending you because you’re an asshole. The two things are completely unconnected.”
“So you’re just me-ist,” Theo concluded.
“Heinously,” Nick confirmed, shoving some half-shredded curtains aside to reveal another unmarked cardboard box. He put his hand out for the knife, and Theo slapped the handle into his palm. “What are we going to do with a record player, anyway?” he inquired, burying the blade in the tape. “Retro’s great and all, but you kind of can’t beat MP3s for accessibility. That’s sorta the point.”
Theo was rummaging behind a rocking horse that was missing an eye. “The fact that we’re up here in the first place indicates to me that our Saturday activities do not necessarily have to have a purpose.”
Setting the knife down on a bookcase, Nick pried the flaps apart and peeked in.
“Guess what I just found,” he prompted.
“The treasure of the Sierra Madre.”
“El Dorado, actually,” Nick corrected, hefting a dusty Pat Benatar album.
Theo considered, averted his head for a violent sneeze, and considered some more. “Why would anyone put Pat Benatar in the attic?” he wanted to know.
“Jealousy?” Nick suggested.
“Bring that shit downstairs,” Theo instructed. “We’re gonna have us a proper party.”
“Which we could have done anyway with an iPod and some speakers,” Nick pointed out, slipping Pat in amongst her brethren again.
“You’re the one who wanted to play in the attic with the black widows and the toxic mold,” Theo shot back.
“You’re the one who’s suddenly enjoying it,” Nick replied, hefting the box and moving for the ladder.
“You… shut up.”
“Can’t fault that logic.”
“Shut up, I said.”