"Do I?" the man in the trenchcoat and handlebar mustache asked. "I'll have you know i'm one of a kind. Like a beautiful snowflake. Not like you, you dime-a-dozen...girl."
Frankie sighed. Of course she recognized it as Bloo and Wilt's disguised alter-ego, Orlando Bloo. It was clearly Bloo's head under the fake 'stache and corny top hat. And that fake voice was so obvious! Still, it might be more fun to screw with them than to have to hear another speech about which type of collie was superior. She leaned in, feigning great interest.
"Really? I must've been mistaken then. I don't now how I EVER could've mistaken the losers I know with a charming, handsome man like yourself."
"And don't you forget it."
"Oh, I won't. You're certainly better looking than this awful, ugly thing I work with."
"Really? Oh, do tell. Anyone who's type I might know about? For example, a smelly purple crybaby?"
"No, i'm talking about this little blob that some kid thought up who-knows-how-or-why who runs around the house screaming and causing trouble."
"Oh, really? And where do you work, you cow?"
From under the coat, Mac whispered 'Bloo!' in an attempt to get him to tone it down.
Through clenched teeth, Frankie responded "Foster's home for imaginary friends."
"I heard only losers work there. Are you a loser, Frankie?"
"Did you just call me Frankie?" She had them now.
"Yes, because you're so old and your hair is so gray, you look like Frank Sinatra. Tell me, what's it like being at a speed-dating thing at your age?"
"My age?! How old do you think I am!?" Her inner feminine vanity got the better of her.
"Oh, i'd say at least 79. But if you got surgery you might look only 70."
"That's it!" She grabbed the coat and pulled it away. Bloo expected this, and had planned for it. He was quite cunning when he needed to be. He grabbed the coat as it swung out of the way, leaving only Mac with his face painted blue and an identical fake moustache. Everyone gasped, including Mac and Frankie.
"Oh, my gosh, i'm so sorry!!" She noticed everyone staring at her and the man in his underwear. "I thought he was two imaginary friends!" Everyone started murmuring. "It's usually a short blue blob and a tall red guy with one arm under here and...Oh, forget it!!" She ran out, and Mac could swear he heard her start to cry. Bloo jumped out from under the coat, laughing hysterically.
"Oh, my gosh, Mac, that was awesome!! I didn't see her face, was she mad? Was she mad, Mac?! Foaming at the mouth!? Did her head blow up, oh PLEEEEEEEESE tell me her head blew up!!!"
"No, Bloo, she looked really hurt. I don't think we should do Orlando Bloo anymore....for awhile."
"But...without you, i'll have to get Wilt, and he always tries to run away when I tell it like it *whining*iiiiisss!!"
"Too bad! We went too far, Bloo. Frankie's been a good friend to us, and a good caretaker to you. We should apologize to her. Bloo?"
Bloo had found his way over to a young lady sitting alone at a table. He was leaning on it, trying to be smooth.
"Yeah, that whole thing was my idea. Aren't I the smartest, hottest thing you ever did see?" She slapped him. "Ok, Mac. Let's go apologize to Frankie. But, uh...yyyou go first, and i'll follow you. That way it'll be less, uh...confrontational." Mac grabbed Bloo's arm-stump and dragged him outside. "Ow! Mac! Has anyone ever told you how rude you can be sometimes?" |