Attractive Restaurant Boy/Jim from Office

I'm replacing the place where I saw this person, just in case, god forbid, this person ever finds this. /awks/


This is a story I wrote at Ragdale (I'm typing it up from mah notebook). We were given 30 minutes, and our prompt was, 'free write about someone you recently talked to'. I felt a little creepy writing this honestly, but it made my Ragdale peers laugh buckets.

He turned towards the register and I was struck in the face immediately with the force of his glowy, tan skin and the sexy way he spoke, "Would you like your bagel toasted?"

Picture this like a Disney Channel movie. Only with class. All the brightness and fakeness of Disney, combined with the directing style of 500 Days of Summer, only with a scintillating plot. Also in a 30's-femme-fatale way.

I bust open the Frosty Mart door and walk in, spewing confidence like that bug-repellent stuff they spray over cornfields. Every eye in the place is on me, because seriously I am smoking. No. Literally. I have one of those fancy cigarette holder things twirling in my elegantly-done, vixen-red nails.

I tapdance over to the register, blonde hair in perfect ringlets, and as the swanky jazz music starts up, I lean casually against a wall.

Then. Attractive Frosty Mart Boy prances out of the darkness, in a spotlight, with a fedora. And in a low throaty voice he says,

"Ma'am. We are out of the pretzel bagels."

And then we foxtrot into the crimson sunset.

As you can imagine, this isn't how it happened. I waddled in awkwardly after my glamourous older friends, scruffy converse and poofy hair in all their glory, and waited casually in line, hoping Magical Jim Man wouldn't notice my face melting slowly into a colour rather like lobster bisque. He wasn't my type anyway. Boys who are attractive rarely are. I probably wasn't his type either---he probably had some lovely gorgeous ladyfriend back home, washing cars for cheerleading practice. Or maybe it was the complete opposite. Maybe he was supporting a family of seven on his Frosty Mart wage, huddling in corners and eating stale bagels to survive. I don't know, he COULD have had a bunch of kids, I couldn't tell how old he was---he had the kind of ageless look of David Bowie or Jesus. Sadly I will never know the answers to these questions because, as a lady, it is considered not classy to use bad pickup lines in a Frosty Mart. So I waddled back to Austin's car, sitting in back like a twelve year old and having my bagel handed to me like a six year old, pressing my hands wistfully against the glass window as the mystery of Magical Jim Man disappeared into the oblivion of time.