Part V, by Cindy
There was no rhyme or reason to it, but at the precise moment that the VHS video was covering the Declaration of Independence Tim's heart wrenched. Who, am I? He asked himself. What have I become?
He got up off of his ivory colo(u)red sofa and walked towards his bedroom. Once inside he went straight for his walk-in closet, opened it and reached up towards the top shelf. Underneath his collection of strategically placed out-of-style Kenneth Cole man-bags, were about 10 embroidered pillows.
"We love you, Tim", "We're so proud of you Tim" emblazoned the top 2 pillows. Others were outfitted with Trilliums, Beavers, Moose and Maple Leafs. Tim, thought of Momma Gunn, sturdy and proud, sitting at the breakfast table embroidering thoughtful notes to him. Last time Momma Gunn game to visit, Tim had forgotten to take out the pillows and was sad how crestfallen Momma Gunn looked when she couldn't find a stitch of embroidery anywhere in his minimalist home. He told her that he, "couldn't make it work", that the pillows didn't match his decor. But when pressed to show her were he kept the pillows, Momma Gunn was moved to quiet disappointment when she learned of their spot behind the man-bags.
Since that time, Tim hadn't spoken to Momma Gunn. No more pillows came to his house wrapped in brown paper and sealed with cinnamon sprinkles. True, Tim wasn't ready to come out as a Canadian yet - there was too much to lose. But he could not continue in his quest for American Citizenship without meeting with Momma Gunn one more time. Papa Gunn could barely even look at him - no pansy non-moose-huntin' son of his could ever help Papa Gunn to even consider the usefulness and stylishness of a Kenneth Cole bag. But Momma Gunn loved him still, he knew it. He just had to see her again and maybe he could make it work.
Tim picked up his phone and dialed the number to his personal assistant and long-time confidant, Perry. Perry answered the phone in his sweet dulcet tone that always warmed Tim's heart:
"Timmy Bear, tell me, what I can do for you?"
"Perry. This isn't working. I have to go to (pause and gulp) - Hamilton. Be a dear and book me the soonest flight out and don't tell anyone. Especially that bitch, Michael Kors."
"Timmy Bear, I'm on it. And don't you worry about anything. I'm coming with you. You need all the strength you can get. Remember, I'm here for you."
"Thanks, Perry. Let me know when we're leaving and send a car. I'm going to pack."
He got up off of his ivory colo(u)red sofa and walked towards his bedroom. Once inside he went straight for his walk-in closet, opened it and reached up towards the top shelf. Underneath his collection of strategically placed out-of-style Kenneth Cole man-bags, were about 10 embroidered pillows.
"We love you, Tim", "We're so proud of you Tim" emblazoned the top 2 pillows. Others were outfitted with Trilliums, Beavers, Moose and Maple Leafs. Tim, thought of Momma Gunn, sturdy and proud, sitting at the breakfast table embroidering thoughtful notes to him. Last time Momma Gunn game to visit, Tim had forgotten to take out the pillows and was sad how crestfallen Momma Gunn looked when she couldn't find a stitch of embroidery anywhere in his minimalist home. He told her that he, "couldn't make it work", that the pillows didn't match his decor. But when pressed to show her were he kept the pillows, Momma Gunn was moved to quiet disappointment when she learned of their spot behind the man-bags.
Since that time, Tim hadn't spoken to Momma Gunn. No more pillows came to his house wrapped in brown paper and sealed with cinnamon sprinkles. True, Tim wasn't ready to come out as a Canadian yet - there was too much to lose. But he could not continue in his quest for American Citizenship without meeting with Momma Gunn one more time. Papa Gunn could barely even look at him - no pansy non-moose-huntin' son of his could ever help Papa Gunn to even consider the usefulness and stylishness of a Kenneth Cole bag. But Momma Gunn loved him still, he knew it. He just had to see her again and maybe he could make it work.
Tim picked up his phone and dialed the number to his personal assistant and long-time confidant, Perry. Perry answered the phone in his sweet dulcet tone that always warmed Tim's heart:
"Timmy Bear, tell me, what I can do for you?"
"Perry. This isn't working. I have to go to (pause and gulp) - Hamilton. Be a dear and book me the soonest flight out and don't tell anyone. Especially that bitch, Michael Kors."
"Timmy Bear, I'm on it. And don't you worry about anything. I'm coming with you. You need all the strength you can get. Remember, I'm here for you."
"Thanks, Perry. Let me know when we're leaving and send a car. I'm going to pack."
posted by lengli at
9:59 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home