Doubt, Disbelief, and Dennis

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  Francine arrived home late. It wasn’t rare for her to stay in the school library until well after closing to study – she hadn’t even had classes today but had gone in regardless, knowing it was the only way she would get work done. She found her own house far too distracting. Too full of opportunities to procrastinate. She swung her messenger bag off her shoulder onto the bed where it bounced once and came to a rest. There was a chicken pot pie in the oven downstairs her father had left her before he went to work but she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. She was still irked about the reception her tale had received yesterday around the campfire.

  She turned her computer on as she walked past it, wriggling the mouse absently to bring the screen to crackling life. As it booted up behind her she got undressed, out of the stuffy confines of her sweater as she pulled it over and head and stepped out of the awkward bell-bottom skirt. No wonder they called her frumpy, but she didn’t particularly care. Better that than a tank-top with some vaguely sexual message across the breasts and a miniskirt or – worse still – hot pants. She questioned the world view on sexy as she pulled on her baggy pyjamas and returned to sit at her desk. The operating system had finished putting everything in place, it seemed, every start-up pop-up pre-popped and ready for action. She opened up her internet browser and clicked the little blue favourite button of facebook. Within seconds of signing on she received a message.

  How’d it go?

  She pouted her lips as she typed her response, still annoyed. Well hello to you too, she thought. Pleasantries were taking a back seat today, it seemed. She sent her response into the ether, unsure precisely where it was going, but to whom it was to, she had no doubt.

  They didn’t believe me Dennis. They don’t believe you’re back.

  Don’t Worry he replied they will

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~ by Joseph Blame on March 24, 2011.

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