Categories > Theatre > Rent > Someone to Live For
You Don't Send Me Anymore
0 reviewsIn which Mark runs into... an old acquaintance, let's say.
0Unrated
Someone to Live For
You Don't Send Me Anymore
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In which Mark runs into... an old acquaintance, let's say.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; just borrowing. Will return when finished.
------
Film everyday life in Central Park, the professor said, and so that's what Mark's doing. He suspects most of his classmates aren't particularly aiming for the homeless contingent, though, and it probably won't surprise anyone that he is. It's the most literal interpretation of the assignment he can think of, far more everyday than the joggers who might only pass through twice a week. Besides, if he doesn't try to do something with this possible knack for documentary film, that's never going to get anywhere.
"Mark?"
Mark lowers his camera and looks around, just in time to see a suspiciously familiar-looking girl's face light up. And then he can't see much of anything because she's hugging him and her curly brown hair is in his face.
"It is you! How the hell have you been? Oh my God, you still have that camera? I never thought I'd see you again!"
...Oh. "Hi, Maureen. Could you possibly ease up a little, before I can't breathe?" He never thought he'd see her again either, and frankly, he'd been hoping he wouldn't. Maureen was the bane of his existence before his family moved to Buffalo, and there had been no escaping her before that because their mothers were good friends.
Maureen lets go of Mark, still beaming. "What the hell are you doing all the way out here? Didn't your family move to, like, Rochester or something?"
"Buffalo."
"Whatever. Somewhere upstate. Why're you here?"
"I live here now. Going to school - you interrupted my homework, in fact. What brings you here?" Just when he'd thought he could get away from Scarsdale entirely, too.
"I'm seeking my fortune, of course. I'm gonna be famous, don't you remember? Figured it'd be easier to start here than in Hollywood." Mark just rolls his eyes at that, and... wait a minute. Maureen's eyeing him, and appreciatively at that. Oh, for the love of God.
"Damn," she finally says, "when did you grow up?"
Mark sighs. "Don't even try it, Maureen. I'm very much spoken for, it'd be a waste of your time."
"But Pookie, don't you want to catch up? We haven't seen each other in years!"
That is one impressive pout the girl's got, but Mark's not about to be taken in by it. "...'Pookie'? What is it with girls and strange nicknames? Besides, catching up does not mean you have to hit on me. Like I said, I'm taken."
"What, does your girlfriend have some kind of weird pet name for you?"
"No, Angel just calls me Mark." He doesn't much feel like correcting her word choice at the moment; if she bothers him long enough, like he has a sinking feeling she will, she'll find out sooner than later. "And even if Angel did have a nickname for me, I sure as hell wouldn't tell you."
"You mean you don't trust me?"
"Not particularly, no. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my homework. I'll see you around, I bet." He leaves Maureen pouting behind him and goes back to filming, but his heart's not really in it anymore, so he packs his camera up and goes home once he's sure she's not watching for him anymore.
For all Maureen wanted to know when Mark grew up, he can tell she hasn't at all. She's still every bit the annoying high school freshman he left behind in Scarsdale, even if she has shifted her focus from getting on his nerves outright to trying to get into his pants. And probably the rest of the world's pants while she's at it, knowing her ambitious streak.
He's really going to pity the poor guy - or girl, who the hell knows these days? - who'll end up falling for her act.
You Don't Send Me Anymore
------
In which Mark runs into... an old acquaintance, let's say.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; just borrowing. Will return when finished.
------
Film everyday life in Central Park, the professor said, and so that's what Mark's doing. He suspects most of his classmates aren't particularly aiming for the homeless contingent, though, and it probably won't surprise anyone that he is. It's the most literal interpretation of the assignment he can think of, far more everyday than the joggers who might only pass through twice a week. Besides, if he doesn't try to do something with this possible knack for documentary film, that's never going to get anywhere.
"Mark?"
Mark lowers his camera and looks around, just in time to see a suspiciously familiar-looking girl's face light up. And then he can't see much of anything because she's hugging him and her curly brown hair is in his face.
"It is you! How the hell have you been? Oh my God, you still have that camera? I never thought I'd see you again!"
...Oh. "Hi, Maureen. Could you possibly ease up a little, before I can't breathe?" He never thought he'd see her again either, and frankly, he'd been hoping he wouldn't. Maureen was the bane of his existence before his family moved to Buffalo, and there had been no escaping her before that because their mothers were good friends.
Maureen lets go of Mark, still beaming. "What the hell are you doing all the way out here? Didn't your family move to, like, Rochester or something?"
"Buffalo."
"Whatever. Somewhere upstate. Why're you here?"
"I live here now. Going to school - you interrupted my homework, in fact. What brings you here?" Just when he'd thought he could get away from Scarsdale entirely, too.
"I'm seeking my fortune, of course. I'm gonna be famous, don't you remember? Figured it'd be easier to start here than in Hollywood." Mark just rolls his eyes at that, and... wait a minute. Maureen's eyeing him, and appreciatively at that. Oh, for the love of God.
"Damn," she finally says, "when did you grow up?"
Mark sighs. "Don't even try it, Maureen. I'm very much spoken for, it'd be a waste of your time."
"But Pookie, don't you want to catch up? We haven't seen each other in years!"
That is one impressive pout the girl's got, but Mark's not about to be taken in by it. "...'Pookie'? What is it with girls and strange nicknames? Besides, catching up does not mean you have to hit on me. Like I said, I'm taken."
"What, does your girlfriend have some kind of weird pet name for you?"
"No, Angel just calls me Mark." He doesn't much feel like correcting her word choice at the moment; if she bothers him long enough, like he has a sinking feeling she will, she'll find out sooner than later. "And even if Angel did have a nickname for me, I sure as hell wouldn't tell you."
"You mean you don't trust me?"
"Not particularly, no. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my homework. I'll see you around, I bet." He leaves Maureen pouting behind him and goes back to filming, but his heart's not really in it anymore, so he packs his camera up and goes home once he's sure she's not watching for him anymore.
For all Maureen wanted to know when Mark grew up, he can tell she hasn't at all. She's still every bit the annoying high school freshman he left behind in Scarsdale, even if she has shifted her focus from getting on his nerves outright to trying to get into his pants. And probably the rest of the world's pants while she's at it, knowing her ambitious streak.
He's really going to pity the poor guy - or girl, who the hell knows these days? - who'll end up falling for her act.
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