garbage man blues

“Hell, even the knock offs are alright. I got one hell of a deal one some knock off dunk-a-roos from Amazon too. Don’t project that bachelor life on me. Just ‘cause your mama keeps trying to arrange a marriage for you doesn’t mean I’m headed there. You know that crazy Lockhart girl?”

“I heard they’ve still got those up in Canada. Not that it’d be worth the trip. They’re good, but they ain’t dealing with mounties and drinking syrup good. You think I’d lie to you? You think I’m exaggerating? It’s happening, Kent. You gotta deal with it. Aw, hell. Don’t tell me you got tangled up with her. She tried to cut a lock of my hair right off my head once.”

– “Are you thinking about taking that one out? Because I’ll save you the trouble…it’s a load of shit. I wouldn’t recommend it to my worst enemy,” Flora said, peeping through the shelves of the library. Here, she was comfortable enough to give unwarranted opinions. Much to her manager’s annoyance. @frostfordstart

“Oh.” He breathed out, sliding the book back into its spot on the shelf. “I thought I’d heard good things, must’ve been something else.” A shock to absolutely no one, Waylon’s reading taste was very limited. He enjoyed the library atmosphere more than any actual book. “What’s this one about?”

“are you outta your ever lovin’ mind?” dinah asked, turning as best as she could to face waylon. “as if i’d ever date a mcquarrie. besides, i don’t think i’m really their type from what i know,” she shrugged. “you know, it’s almost adorable how much you love your mama. it’s good to see there’s a heart underneath that big exterior.”

“I thought breathing and willing was their type. You fit the bill. I could lend you an inhaler if you need help with that first part.” He offered, his cheeks reddening at her next words. He hung his head, attempting to hide the fact he was effected at all by her compliment. “Only as far as my mama’s concerned, I don’t care much for anyone else. I’ve got one of those teeny tiny Grinch hearts underneath this big exterior you’re so fond of.”

she merely responded with flashing him a wink, dimples still carved into her cheeks as she took a generous swig from her own drink, still dangerously close to the stranger as she threw a quick flare over at the creeper. “god, don’t even get me started!” lacey huffed, jumping up onto the barstool, “he’s an idiot. i don’t think i’ve ever hated someone as much as i hate him. it genuinely blows my mind how people like him…like he’s just a blatantly awful human being and he’s an idiot.” the brunette sighed, chuckling softly as she shook her head, “sorry, he gets my blood boiling. i’m lacey, hi fake boyfriend.”

“I think the people who like him are awful idiots, that’s why they’re such big fans. Stupidity loves company, or whatever that saying is.” A small smile pulled at his lips -- he always loved a fiery woman. “Lacey. I like it. Fake boyfriend has a nice ring to it, but you can call me Waylon.”

Juniper had been following around the man for days, unable to muster up the courage to talk to him. To confront him. But that wasn’t to say she wasn’t gathering valuable intel about him. She’d certainly found out his favorite places, the foods he ordered. It had been odd finding out she had so much in common from him considering she had grown up without him around. It was just another day of following him around, he was there a few feet in front of her and then suddenly he was standing there confronting her. Her eyes grew wide, “No,” she shook her head, “No, no, I’m not selling anything. I-…You are Waylon, right?” Of course he was. She knew that. But what was she supposed to say? Hey I’m your daughter…want to go play some ball? Catch a movie?

“Depends who’s asking.” He narrowed his eyes, trying to place the girl, but he wasn’t having any luck. She looked somewhat familiar, yet not enough for him to recognize her fully -- it was simultaneously confusing and aggravating. Sighing, he scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. I’m Waylon.” Most people knew who he was, there wasn’t much reason to deny it. “Can I help you with something?”

“They still got those? The creme savers kinda? ‘Cause they’s my shit. So you’re sayin’ that I only have three more years before you and I are like lookin’ in a mirror? I don’t know if I’m ready for that, that’s why I’m keeping myself young, so listen. You ever been scorned? Ever had something of your set on fire and need some revenge?”

“Something like that. Think it’s a knock off brand from Mexico, Baghdad, some place across the world. My mama got it off Amazon. Apparently she’s a prime member. I don’t even know what a prime member is. Yeah, kiddo, that’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s gonna happen whether you like it or not, so prepare yourself for those singles mixers. That’s your future. Who’s shit you trying to burn? Cause I’ve only got my stuff set on fire when I deserved it.”

a smirk preyed onto pink lips as she gave a tilt of her head, “i love myself an easy date.” brows knit into a slight furrow, “easy as in…not a lot of work. not as in slutty. but hey, i appreciate a slutty date too.” lacey leaned in flirtatiously, half teasing and half not, “yeah the fuckhead with the MAGA shirt. what a tool…”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Matching her smirk with a half smile of his own, he was almost in a good mood. Almost. “Goddamn MAGA.” He said gruffly, raising a shot glass to his lips and downing it. “The president’s the real fuckhead, screwed over the working class real good.” He added, taking a deep, dramatic breath to calm himself. This was neither the time nor the place. “What’d you say your name was again?”

busted. dinah lowered the book, sighing as she did. idk what i’m writing half the time. why do we have to fill in extra stuff. i hate it. “maybe, maybe not.” she didn’t, and it was obvious to anyone in frostford that no one would be getting any of dinah’s attention. “does your mom pay you to clean up the shop? or do you just offer your services for free?”

“It’s one of those McQuarrie’s ain’t it? Always knew that competing Christmas tree farm thing would end with a tawdry affair.” He shook his head in disappointment, raising the hair dryer on the seat beside her, then falling into the chair. “Don’t be naive, Dinah, family ain’t on the payroll. I don’t offer, it’s just what’s expected. I blame myself, I let her trick me into thinking it was fun when I was young.”

@frostfordstart​

Sunday night grocery runs had become normal for Chris at some point during college and even after moving back to Frostford full time after graduation, it wasn’t a habit he could seem to break. Wandering down the aisles at Bushel was almost comforting in its familiarity. 

Reaching out, he grabbed a box of cereal - the healthy stuff his brothers always teased him about - and dropped it in the basket before continuing on his way, not really paying much attention to what was going on around him. 

“Shit, sorry.” He took a step back as he walked into someone he hadn’t noticed coming toward him. “You’d think I’d know I need ta watch where I’m goin’ by now.” 

“You’d think.” He spat back, annoyed by the gargantuan man who bumped into him. “Could kill someone if you’re not careful, big fella. Squash ‘em like a bug.” Gritting his teeth, he held back his anger, a rarity for him, but a necessity in this case. There was no sense turning the cereal aisle into a war zone -- he was also smart enough not to start fights he couldn’t win.

“Q   U   I   C   K !   i   need   you   to   pretend   like   we’re   dating   for   the   next   like…5   minutes!   a   creep   from   tinder   has   been   STALKING   me   and   he’s   here   and   just   PLEASE.   i’ll   repay   you   with   cuddles,   kisses,   alcohol   or   d.   all of   the   above.”

@frostfordstart

“All of the above ain’t necessary, believe me. A good whiskey’ll do the trick.” He laughed, smiling more than he usually did, throwing his head back as if he was in the middle of the greatest date of his life. “The scrawny ginger in the back, that’s our guy, eh?”

it hadn’t been four months since her mama’s last perm, but somehow dinah found herself back at splittin’ hairs salon sitting under one of the hair dryers complete with curlers. according to mama rollins, the new season meant it was time for a new look and that’d it do dinah some good to try something a little different - and since her mama had the backing support of the stylists and other ladies waiting in the salon, it was hard for dinah to say no. it wasn’t anything drastic though, just a few new wavy layers with a touch of auburn brown lowlights to ‘bring out her eyes’, according to mama.

hearing the little jingle of the bell above the door, dinah quickly darted her eyes in it’s direction. now, it was a well-known fact in the south for a lady to always be looking her best in front of the opposite sex, or anytime she ventures out of the house really, so her immediate reaction was to hide her face with one of those decades old book of hairstyles lying around when she saw who it was - @wylnprtchtt. she sunk a little lower in the seat, careful not to completely leave the hot air of the dryer, but she was desperate for the man not to notice her. “please don’t see me, please don’t see me. just keep goin’ on past me, i’m invisible,” she frantically thought to herself.

Waylon spent more time at Splittin’ Hairs than any one person should. Some thought he was too close to his mother -- a man hanging around a salon just because his mom owned it was weird, didn’t they have boundaries? Others thought he went gray prematurely and simply needed a constant dye job, if not a full on toupee. The truth was far less interesting. Waylon provided an extra pair of hands, and when the floor needed sweeping or they were down a shampoo girl, he was the easiest fill in. The older gals also did wonders for his ego, but he let his mama believe he was solely doing her a favor whenever he popped in.

A broom was shoved in his direction the second he walked through the door, two cases of gum in hair, a bad breakup and a stylist’s mistake made his services crucial, and his presence always seemed to shift the mood in a positive direction, surprisingly.  “Dinah Jane, as I live and breathe.” He leaned against his large push broom, tapping her foot with his own to try and get her attention. “Got a hot date?”

“You’re really startin’ to get that old guy ‘get off my lawn’ kinda attitude down. Got some caramel candies in your pocket? But c’mon, it’s not for a prank. It’s a project of epic proportions and while I can’t really be upfront about the details, I think you’d really enjoy the outcome.”

“Strawberries and cream, leaves less sugar on the teeth. Once you hit thirty as an unmarried man, you gotta start working on the ‘get off my lawn’ vibe, it’s town law. You’re getting there. Give me the details, outcome and all, and maybe I’ll consider it. I ain’t crazy enough to go into this blind.”

“It ain’t much, but you look like you need it,” 

Malaya sat the drink down on the table and slipped into the booth across from them with a curt nod. She didn’t make a habit of joining folks without askin’. More often than not whenever she came into the diner, Mal hustled to her usual corner spot, ordered, and spent about an hour and a half gesture drawing. Which had been how she’d spent the last hour or so, but there were exceptions. And this just so happened to be one of them. She’d been watching them since they’d come in and well– something had her itching to come say something. It wasn’t until she finally emerged from her corner, two fresh drinks in her hand, that she had a true inkling as to what that something was.

“I have no idea what it is, by the way. I asked the waitress to surprise me– well, you,” she added, wiping off her cup with a napkin, “She’s pretty good at it. I’ve never had something I didn’t like,” @frostfordstart​

“I look that bad, don’t I?” Waylon isolated himself more often than not, mostly because he liked it that way -- he was comfortable in silence, but things like this were starting to happen fairly regularly. Someone would catch him, all by his lonesome, and offer a friendly ear. Sometimes it was older folk, other times it was kids, strolling on over with a hey mister and a lollipop. This time it was a girl, with alcohol - much better than a lollipop. “Kinda looks like motor oil.” He said, picking up the glass and bringing it to his face, visibly grimacing once he did. “Smells like it too. How can I be sure you ain’t trying to poison me?”

maybe roses….. too formal. daisies? no they look like weeds… James stood in the flower shop overwhelmed by the variety and amount of blooms. he ran his fingers through his hair as he did another lap through the store. “why do there have to be so many choices?” 

@frostfordstart

“They’re flowers.” He stated plainly, slightly sideeying the other. “You can’t go wrong with roses, don’t overthink it.”