Closed Starter || Supposedlyschizotelepath
@supposedlyschizotelepath Well this was inconvenient.
Where's all the wet floors with no signs when you need them?
Peter was standing in the middle of a store. It was late, close to closing time and barely contained any people. The store sold many products, which were reasonably priced, but Peter only cared about one in particular.
Aunt May had asked him to run down to the store, explaining she had forgot a needed ingredient for some church dish was making. Peter walked down, grabbing his own money to use.
You got to be kidding me?
After Peter had grabbed the item Aunt May needed, he stood in front of a bike. This was the item Peter really cared about. While the price wasn't outrageous, it was way out of Peter's price range, and had been for the last few months. He looked down at the money in his hands, knowing fully that he would spend it on Aunt May.
Maybe I could make a deal with the owner? Only they're not here. . .
Maybe this is a sign that I need to face the looming fact that I need a real job. Something that pays more than selling Spidey pictures.
Peter walked towards a girl, who's shirt matched the store front's colors, "Hey, is there any way I could make payments for the bike over there?" He asked, pointing towards the bike.
Within seconds he realized his critical failure. That girl didn't work here.
Not only was this one of the lamest things he could have done, but he also admitted his poverty level to a random person.
Think quick: How do I recover from this one?
Giving a soft laugh, Peter quickly said, "I'm just joking. You see. . You're wearing the same colors as. . . as the store's workers do. . . And I thought it would be funny." He was fumbling left and right here. "I thought it would be funny to say that. You should have seen your reaction."
I'm an idiot. He repeated that sentence in his head several times.
