A Salty Engagement: Episode Six

2 10 2009

Things are starting to get weird. I think I really enjoy writing from the perspective of Tom Arnold. I really hope he’ll let me write his comeback.

And yes, I’m aware that writing fan fiction about yourself is nothing short of self-centered. But I can’t help how interested I am in my own improbably futures.

A Modest Proposal

“I think you know what I want, Ramos. What we both want.” Tom Arnold stepped over the dead Pole, placing an arm precariously over Telly’s shoulders.

Surprisingly, Telly did not shrug him off. She found herself torn between what her body was feeling and what the insides of her body were feeling. Was that nausea? Or the sting of a love long lost?

“I’m with my little man now, T Arns.”

“I love when you call me that.”

“I can’t leave him behind for something that should have been, but wasn’t,” Telly said, letting a tear slip from her lids and a small sliver of boogs drip from her feminine nostrils. At this point, Tom removed his arm of his own volition. He had lost her.

He stepped back over the Pole, who had started to melt slightly in the hot New Jersey sun, like a wayward drop of ice cream. Shaped like a dead body. Tom Arnold reached into his pocket and pulled out a checkbook, replete with personalized Tweety Bird checks. He chuckled at the sight of that yellow bird. That cheerful, scheming, yellow bird. Mr. Arnold liked to think that he was much like Tweety. Always been chased, always outsmarting the competition. What was he doing? He was wasting this great comparison, nay, metaphor on his internal monologue instead of spouting it to the adoring public in front of him! Fool, Tom. You are a fool!

Tom took another glance at the screen, where Eric was starting to stir a bit from the bed on which he resided. “We are going to play this my way. Since, you’ve clearly chosen this Skinny Glasses Man over me, I don’t think there’s much I can do to change your heart, but maybe I can do something else. Add a little spice to your life. Make it so you never look at him without thinking of me.”

No one had any idea what he was talking about.

“What are you talking about?” Paul asked, his eyes glued to Eric on the television screen.

“The only thing bigger than my heart is my checkbook. Are you aware of how relevant I was in the early to mid 90s? Let’s just say Old Tom made some wise investments, and I am prepared to write a huge check – HUGE – to anyone here in exchange for one thing.”

Paul and Sarah looked at each other, salivating. They would do anything for money. They loved each other very much, but nothing says true love like millions of dollars. Besides, Sarah thought, Paul had neglected to have her sign a pre-nup. So “what’s yours is mine” could potentially become very much hers.

“In exchange for WHAT!” Paul yelled, hardly noticing how loud his voice had become. He hoped not to sound too eager, but Papa needs a new leather money sack.

“For that little man’s head. Unattached to his body.”

To catch up and read Paul’s parts, check out A Salty Engagement: The Blog.

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