Status: Updates Eventually.
It's Been a While
Gavin and the Desk
"Natalie, I think I'll just meet you at the theater. I just got a text from Gavin, and, well, the idiot got his finger caught in his desk again." I sighed. I would have to buy some lotion or butter or maybe a bit of oil. I was seriously surprised how often he got parts of his body stuck in things. I swear, he's worse than Dom!
"Wait... again?" Natalie questioned as Becca went upstairs to shower. I sighed and began to explain about the other three times it happened and the time he got his finger caught in the beer bottle, and when he was doing some things I didn't really want to talk about and got a certain part of himself caught in a--
"NOPE! Don't want to hear about that one. Go help your boyfriend with his finger problem." Natalie laughed, giving me the address of the theater and shoving me towards the door.
"Not my boyfriend!" I shouted back.
When I got to Gavin's house, I had to find the spare key once again. Apparently he was "really stuck good" this time, and could come to the door to let me in. When I got in, I found him in his room with his head down on the desk and his finger jammed in a hole up to his knuckle.
"You came! Brilliant! There's some lotion on the table by my bed, can you go get it?" he smiled.
"Jesus Christ Gavin, you're fucking 24 years old! How did you even manage to do that?" I marveled at his magnificently stuck finger while I hunted for the lotion under the massive amount of papers and clothing scattered around on the table.
“What happened was the hole was small but the things caved in like this…” He sighed, wiggling his good hand around in the air “...and now, as I pull up, it locks my finger in.”
“I swear you’re like three. Hold still.” I slathered his finger in a bunch of vaseline and pulled as hard as I could.
“You’re gonna rip-- you’re gonna shred my finger!” He screeched as the thing budged a little. It took a solid minute of pulling and screaming, but his finger finally popped out from the desk.
“There. Better?”
“Aww, I got a boo boo… kiss it better?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Gavin, NO!”
“… please?”
“Alright, fine.” I gave in, got a bandaid, and kissed his bloody, lotion covered finger. “There. All better. I’ve got a theater to go to.”
“Aw, don’t go. I’m lonely! Take me with you!”
“GAVIN NO.”
"Wait... again?" Natalie questioned as Becca went upstairs to shower. I sighed and began to explain about the other three times it happened and the time he got his finger caught in the beer bottle, and when he was doing some things I didn't really want to talk about and got a certain part of himself caught in a--
"NOPE! Don't want to hear about that one. Go help your boyfriend with his finger problem." Natalie laughed, giving me the address of the theater and shoving me towards the door.
"Not my boyfriend!" I shouted back.
When I got to Gavin's house, I had to find the spare key once again. Apparently he was "really stuck good" this time, and could come to the door to let me in. When I got in, I found him in his room with his head down on the desk and his finger jammed in a hole up to his knuckle.
"You came! Brilliant! There's some lotion on the table by my bed, can you go get it?" he smiled.
"Jesus Christ Gavin, you're fucking 24 years old! How did you even manage to do that?" I marveled at his magnificently stuck finger while I hunted for the lotion under the massive amount of papers and clothing scattered around on the table.
“What happened was the hole was small but the things caved in like this…” He sighed, wiggling his good hand around in the air “...and now, as I pull up, it locks my finger in.”
“I swear you’re like three. Hold still.” I slathered his finger in a bunch of vaseline and pulled as hard as I could.
“You’re gonna rip-- you’re gonna shred my finger!” He screeched as the thing budged a little. It took a solid minute of pulling and screaming, but his finger finally popped out from the desk.
“There. Better?”
“Aww, I got a boo boo… kiss it better?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Gavin, NO!”
“… please?”
“Alright, fine.” I gave in, got a bandaid, and kissed his bloody, lotion covered finger. “There. All better. I’ve got a theater to go to.”
“Aw, don’t go. I’m lonely! Take me with you!”
“GAVIN NO.”