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“He was… singing. Sam was singing….” She said, shaking her head slowly. Her curls bounced as she moved. “Why was he…”
Ted stepped back, picking up a new jug while chucking the sugar-filled one into the sink. The coffee-soaked sugar spilled out into the sink and splashed onto the counter. Tiny, claggy droplets stained the bench. He’d clean it later. That was for future Ted to worry about. He’d stay back tonight anyway. He filled up Charlotte’s mug with the fresh coffee and handed it to her silently.
“Sam didn’t come home last night,” she said. Her voice shook and rose almost a full octave. Charlotte spoke like she’d watched too many old films. Her voice was vaguely transatlantic, and it got higher the more emotional she was. It was cute. No, not cute. He shook his head.
Ted scoffed, “Damn right he didn’t-”
Shit.
Or
The events of The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals from Ted Spankoffski's perspective. The highs and lows of his attempts at social interaction. His failures as a brother and friend. You know how this story goes.
The Apotheosis is upon us. Yay!
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