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Date Posted: 21:17:32 11/12/03 Wed
Author: Blue
Subject: For Tamsyn: "The Purse"

Because a good story deserves to be imitated, and maybe cause I felt upstaged (I'm honestly not sure on that point). Anyways, here's a story. A straight story to be sure, but don't let that ruin your fun.
-Blue

The Purse

A falling object, like a purse, will accelerate towards the ground at 9.8 meters per second per second. This creates considerable momentum for the object, which can become a serious problem when the object decides it is time to become up close and personal with the floor. The momentum will backlash on the purse, scattering the contents of said purse across said ground, putting the person who dropped the purse into a panic. The contents themselves really don’t give a damn.

“Oh Crap.” I said out loud, to no one in particular, as I watched Carol’s makeup scatter and bounce along the bathroom floor. This sight caused thoughts to race through my head at a rapid-fire rate. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have breathed on it. Well, Carol shouldn’t have left it on the edge of the sink. Carol will probably not see things that way. Crap. Crap. Crap. CRAP!

Oh well. Only one thing to do. Put it back and pray she doesn’t notice. I ran over, grabbed the bag, and proceeded to plummet towards earth as her lipstick skittered across the linoleum. I’d swear that thing giggled.

“Are you all right in there?” asked Carol, her voice coming closer to the bathroom as she spoke. “Do you need some help?” The doorknob turned as I watched.

I grabbed it, halting her progress. “Uh, no thanks. I just slipped. No biggee. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay,” she said, slowly. “Hurry up in there. I need a number out of my purse.” CRAP!

“’Kay.” I said. It was all I could say. Her footsteps retreated as I grabbed again her purse. Caution be damned, I ran again, scooping stray objects as fast as I could snatch them.

Compact. Phonebook. Lipstick (still giggling). Spare tampons (eww). Checkbook -hey, where did that fifty bucks come from, she swore she was broke. Never mind, no time. Condom (hell yeah!). Toothpaste? Why in god’s name would you carry toothpaste? Toss it in anyways. Last check around the flo-What’s that smell? PERFUME! CRAP! PERFUME BOTTLE BROKEN! Kick the glass shards out of the way and hope she doesn’t notice.

I flushed the toilet, and walked out into the kitchen. Carol was there, hanging up the phone as I entered. She smiled at me, and walked up close. “Mmm. You smell good. What is it?”

“Something special just for you.” I said.

“Ah, how sweet.” she said with a smile on her lips. Looks like that condom will come in handy. Her finger grazed the straps of the purse I carried. “What is this?”

“Isn’t it your purse?” I asked. She walked away to the counter in response.

“No. This is.” Her purse was in her hand, and her gaze was level with mine.

Oh crap. I thought, This is Danielle’s purse.

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