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31_days2008-01-16 11:57 pm
swollenfoot.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-01-16 11:57 pm
[January 16][The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya] Prank Called
Title: Prank Called
Day / Theme: January 16 / It's sane enough, what I'm asking
Series: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya
Character: Koizumi Itsuki, Kyon, Suzumiya Haruhi
Rating: PG
Day / Theme: January 16 / It's sane enough, what I'm asking
Series: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya
Character: Koizumi Itsuki, Kyon, Suzumiya Haruhi
Rating: PG
Standing beside a phone booth, waiting for a phone call, isn't something you'd usually find me doing. Phone booths are supposedly nearing extinction nowadays, especially since most people now carry either cellphones or PDA's all the time. That's not to say there's no longer any other way to communicate.There's good old snail mail, borrowing your neighbor's phone, checking email at work, those type of tactics. I have to admit, I got a little bit of a tingle up my spine while hunting for the specified phone booth I'm supposed to be by at exactly four in the afternoon. It just has an overall feel of one of those sci-fi shows they rerun after midnight, or one of those oldies spy flicks with their low-tech effects and cheesy music.
(Can you tell I've been spending too much time with a certain somebody?)
Of course, when it comes down to actually standing there, waiting for that supposed call you're not even sure is going to come, trying to look occupied with something productive, it becomes an entirely different game. I think I can tell you the stats of the all the baseball games so far this season, by now. I mean, the newspaper is not a bad read exactly, but I like it better slouched in a couch at home or slumped over a desk in the college library. Not to mention, there's this little old lady across the street who's been keeping tabs at my movement (or the lack thereof). I'd imagine she's a KGB agent, but that'll just make me feel even stupider. (Plus, there's this infuriating, teeny chance that it might be even true.) Now, if it were Asahina-san sitting in that rocker, knitting. . .
I'm kidding. Truth be told, I've graduated from my infatuation over the gracious Asahina-san when she graduated high school. Which isn't to say I don't spare an admiring glance or two her way whenever she visits us from wherever--er, whenever.
The phone jangles, startling me out of my pleasant daydreams. Finally. I stumble into the booth, hastily fling the door close behind me, and pick up the phone. The amiable voice coming through the copper line made me want to hurl the handset against the concrete pavement and hope that smiley-faced bastard loses an eardrum for it.
"I'm relieved you got my message."
Are you deliberately crapping up my life or are you just plain bat-shit crazy? What could you possibly want to tell me that you can't say on those idiotic Las Vegas postcards you've cryptically sent me daily for over a week?
"Oh, that was one of my colleagues. Sorry. He's been having trouble with his reality-testing skills, I think. I had to pass the message, as I am indefinitely indisposed inside a particularly unstable closed space."
Closed space? I pause to ponder carefully on this, trying to remember if there's been any untoward incidences involving one Suzumiya Haruhi. For some reason, my girlfriend's moods seems to be tied to the existence of these closed spaces, these new universes-in-the-making that are just waiting to ripen, burst, and erase the world as we know it. Of course, they also say that Haruhi's a goddess, a wrinkle in time, and a technological singularity. My hypothesis: the world's a gigantic ass and she's a mean, little boil sitting right above the crack.
"How was this previous Valentines Day?" Koizumi probes.
It was none of your business, and it still isn't. Why do you want to know, anyway?
"I was just trying to pinpoint the cause of her discontent, is all," the esper says thoughtfully.
It was nowhere near normal, that much I can tell you. I'm pretty sure Haruhi was happy about it. I certainly wasn't.
"Have you ever considered Suzumiya-san may also have your best interest in mind? What I mean to ask is, why do you presume she is happy about the fact that you are unhappy about something. You have been going out for over a year now. What are your observations?"
I couldn't help but squirm at Koizumi's blatant assessment. I mean, the smiley bastard has a point. Maybe I haven't been giving Haruhi the benefit of the doubt any person deserves, but that's because she's Haruhi--she's not normal. And it isn't as if I'm implying that Haruhi enjoys my being unhappy, which I suppose she doesn't, even though that's what it feels like most of the time. I was just saying that it's just how things end up being. But, hey, we haven't fighting lately, not as much as before. If things stay smooth like this, I'm okay the way things are.
"You haven't been fighting lately?" the smile behind voice seems to have disappeared.
Isn't that supposed to be a sign of a healthy relationship? Like you said, we've been going out for over a year. Even getting to that stage has brought me to too many near-death experiences. And I'm only twenty-one, geeze.
(You know, I've always wondered whether this mysterious person really has a thing for Haruhi or is simply a spineless, boot-licker in nature. Man, I just keep having this urge to break his perfect teeth in. Do I have an anger problem?)
"Don't you think Suzumiya-san might be thinking you've been taking her for granted?"
I've been following her every irrational, painful whim! And I'm the one taking somebody for granted?
"But you've always been her lone dissenter, her doubting Thomas. Don't you think that role of yours is a crucial part of her life, therefore of her psychological well-being?"
Are you suggesting I pick a fight with her?
"Yes, I think you should be the one picking the fight once in a while."
Are you insane?
"Well, you know what the alternative will be."
And if you're wrong?
"I'll be the first one to find out."
That idiot smile was back again! I can feel it. Again, if only vandalism isn't a punishable offense, I'd really maim this phone right now, just because a certain somebody's windpipe is out of reach.
"Hmm. . . do you think Haruhi's the jealous type? How do you think she'll react if she finds out you've been receiving mysterious phone calls?"
. . . Why? Are you suggesting I provoke her like that? Man, that's like a cheap, old trick. If you're going to design some sort of scenario for the likes of Haruhi to inspire her more possessive side, you've got to go for something more smart and sophisticated. She'll smell a setup like that miles away.
"We're about to find out."
I look up to see the familiar strut of Suzumiya Haruhi as she approached my phone booth. I have to admit, with that ponytail swinging like the promise of a riding crop out for horse blood, she's a mighty fine sight. She's also wearing her trademark glare, and her arms are crossed in front of her, emphasizing a couple of her well-endowed parts.
"I trust, you'll be able to plan your making up, hereafter. It's none of my business after all. We're counting on you."
The receiver slips from my grip as the benevolent voice disappears to a busy tone, and Haruhi's now near enough for me to make out the outline of her sports bra against her white blouse and to know that she was breathing as ominously as a cinder cone volcano about to erupt. (Those usually explode from the gases trapped underneath its layers, ending up with a lot more fatalities than other volcano types.)
Man, I really hate that guy.
~12:44 011708
(Can you tell I've been spending too much time with a certain somebody?)
Of course, when it comes down to actually standing there, waiting for that supposed call you're not even sure is going to come, trying to look occupied with something productive, it becomes an entirely different game. I think I can tell you the stats of the all the baseball games so far this season, by now. I mean, the newspaper is not a bad read exactly, but I like it better slouched in a couch at home or slumped over a desk in the college library. Not to mention, there's this little old lady across the street who's been keeping tabs at my movement (or the lack thereof). I'd imagine she's a KGB agent, but that'll just make me feel even stupider. (Plus, there's this infuriating, teeny chance that it might be even true.) Now, if it were Asahina-san sitting in that rocker, knitting. . .
I'm kidding. Truth be told, I've graduated from my infatuation over the gracious Asahina-san when she graduated high school. Which isn't to say I don't spare an admiring glance or two her way whenever she visits us from wherever--er, whenever.
The phone jangles, startling me out of my pleasant daydreams. Finally. I stumble into the booth, hastily fling the door close behind me, and pick up the phone. The amiable voice coming through the copper line made me want to hurl the handset against the concrete pavement and hope that smiley-faced bastard loses an eardrum for it.
"I'm relieved you got my message."
Are you deliberately crapping up my life or are you just plain bat-shit crazy? What could you possibly want to tell me that you can't say on those idiotic Las Vegas postcards you've cryptically sent me daily for over a week?
"Oh, that was one of my colleagues. Sorry. He's been having trouble with his reality-testing skills, I think. I had to pass the message, as I am indefinitely indisposed inside a particularly unstable closed space."
Closed space? I pause to ponder carefully on this, trying to remember if there's been any untoward incidences involving one Suzumiya Haruhi. For some reason, my girlfriend's moods seems to be tied to the existence of these closed spaces, these new universes-in-the-making that are just waiting to ripen, burst, and erase the world as we know it. Of course, they also say that Haruhi's a goddess, a wrinkle in time, and a technological singularity. My hypothesis: the world's a gigantic ass and she's a mean, little boil sitting right above the crack.
"How was this previous Valentines Day?" Koizumi probes.
It was none of your business, and it still isn't. Why do you want to know, anyway?
"I was just trying to pinpoint the cause of her discontent, is all," the esper says thoughtfully.
It was nowhere near normal, that much I can tell you. I'm pretty sure Haruhi was happy about it. I certainly wasn't.
"Have you ever considered Suzumiya-san may also have your best interest in mind? What I mean to ask is, why do you presume she is happy about the fact that you are unhappy about something. You have been going out for over a year now. What are your observations?"
I couldn't help but squirm at Koizumi's blatant assessment. I mean, the smiley bastard has a point. Maybe I haven't been giving Haruhi the benefit of the doubt any person deserves, but that's because she's Haruhi--she's not normal. And it isn't as if I'm implying that Haruhi enjoys my being unhappy, which I suppose she doesn't, even though that's what it feels like most of the time. I was just saying that it's just how things end up being. But, hey, we haven't fighting lately, not as much as before. If things stay smooth like this, I'm okay the way things are.
"You haven't been fighting lately?" the smile behind voice seems to have disappeared.
Isn't that supposed to be a sign of a healthy relationship? Like you said, we've been going out for over a year. Even getting to that stage has brought me to too many near-death experiences. And I'm only twenty-one, geeze.
(You know, I've always wondered whether this mysterious person really has a thing for Haruhi or is simply a spineless, boot-licker in nature. Man, I just keep having this urge to break his perfect teeth in. Do I have an anger problem?)
"Don't you think Suzumiya-san might be thinking you've been taking her for granted?"
I've been following her every irrational, painful whim! And I'm the one taking somebody for granted?
"But you've always been her lone dissenter, her doubting Thomas. Don't you think that role of yours is a crucial part of her life, therefore of her psychological well-being?"
Are you suggesting I pick a fight with her?
"Yes, I think you should be the one picking the fight once in a while."
Are you insane?
"Well, you know what the alternative will be."
And if you're wrong?
"I'll be the first one to find out."
That idiot smile was back again! I can feel it. Again, if only vandalism isn't a punishable offense, I'd really maim this phone right now, just because a certain somebody's windpipe is out of reach.
"Hmm. . . do you think Haruhi's the jealous type? How do you think she'll react if she finds out you've been receiving mysterious phone calls?"
. . . Why? Are you suggesting I provoke her like that? Man, that's like a cheap, old trick. If you're going to design some sort of scenario for the likes of Haruhi to inspire her more possessive side, you've got to go for something more smart and sophisticated. She'll smell a setup like that miles away.
"We're about to find out."
I look up to see the familiar strut of Suzumiya Haruhi as she approached my phone booth. I have to admit, with that ponytail swinging like the promise of a riding crop out for horse blood, she's a mighty fine sight. She's also wearing her trademark glare, and her arms are crossed in front of her, emphasizing a couple of her well-endowed parts.
"I trust, you'll be able to plan your making up, hereafter. It's none of my business after all. We're counting on you."
The receiver slips from my grip as the benevolent voice disappears to a busy tone, and Haruhi's now near enough for me to make out the outline of her sports bra against her white blouse and to know that she was breathing as ominously as a cinder cone volcano about to erupt. (Those usually explode from the gases trapped underneath its layers, ending up with a lot more fatalities than other volcano types.)
Man, I really hate that guy.
~12:44 011708