Twenty-Sixth PSI

[a_gentle_boy]

[Ring, ring!  It is 6:00 in the morning and there is someone buzzing at your door.

The day after Thanksgiving, Lucas was awakened by the sound of the telephone.  Upon picking it up, he was greeted by a friendly disembodied voice thanking him for his application as a paper-boy.  He'd be starting tomorrow!

 . . .

The rest of the day was spent in anxiety about what he was going to do.  And seeing as how he was Lucas, he came to the inevitable conclusion that he'd better make the best job of it he could.  This is the reason why your doorbell is being rung at an ungodly hour -- If it's possible for a buzzer to sound polite, it does.  Lucas will wait with a cheerful smile on your front porch until someone shows up to answer the door, after which he'll promptly launch into a speech that sounds as if it has been nervously rehearsed for hours.  In the event that no one does, he will leave after two rings.  Morning people may notice that there's no bike nearby, but there is a table meandering about your front lawn.  The speech runs as follows, though you can cut him off at any time.]

Good morning, [mister/miss]!  My name is Lucas.  We're not acquainted, but I wanted to let you know that I'll be responsible for bringing your newspapers in the morning now.  I'll do everything I can to make my delivery as quiet and punctual as possible.

Thanks very much, and I look forward to serving you!

[In the event that he knows you.]

O-Oh!  Hi!  Um.  Ah.  Oh, I have to change my speech.

Comments

[naicha]

_{[ She's a little oblivious to that, sadly. ]}

I like you! You'll get far if you keep an attitude like that up.

Ah, but... _{[ Headtilt. No bike? ]} Are you just walking?

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[She liked him? That was . . . nice, he supposed. His melancholy thoughts are swept away by her question, though.]

Oh, no. I have my table.

[It's currently trampling your garden, Taiwan.]

W-Wha -- Hey! Stop that!

[naicha]

_{[ SCREAM IT'S MOVING. ]}

Hold on, I think I got this!

_{[ she disappears for a few seconds and comes back with a broom. She then proceeds to attempt to whack his table in the hopes of making it stop. ]}

Bad table! Bad! What will Mrs. Table say when she finds out!? Aaaaah!

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Mrs. Table . . . ?

[While Lucas ponders the biological consequences of her words, the table is sufficiently subdued by Taiwan's smacking to wander back towards the driveway. It almost seems to droop.]

I-I'm really sorry about that, Miss Taiwan! I'll . . . I'll come by later with some of mine.

[naicha]

_{[ She lets out a puff of air. Honestly, tables these days! Now, to Lucas. Oh gosh, she doesn't know where to begin. ]}

W-well, that's f-- Wait, how'd it-- _{Moving table...}

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas is oblivious.]

Is there any type of flower you like, particularly? The flower shop carries a lot of them, and I got my first salary in advance.

[naicha]

Flowers? _{[ They were just talking about tables -- well, she forgets about those easily, anyway. She points at herself. ]} For me?

_{[ But why would you give flowers to a stra-oh, right. ]} ... Plum blossoms are my favorite.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

. . . Plum blossoms?

I'm not sure if they have any of those, but I'll do my best. I'll replace the ones that got smushed, definitely.

[naicha]

Oh! Were we talking about those flowers? _{[ She thought they were her weird not!husband's! ]}

Anything Lucas likes is fine, then!

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I'll make sure it doesn't do that again. Sorry . . .

Oh! I almost forgot. Here's your newspaper.

[naicha]

Thank you--Ah, it's fine! But you have to tell it not to step on the dahlias next time, okay? Or I'll get mad. _{[ Puffs her cheeks up. ]}

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Yes, of course. I don't know if it understands me at all, but. I'll be back later with some replacements for you . . . But I should probably go ahead with my route now.

[naicha]

Ah, haha, alright. Add oil! _{[ fistpump! ]}

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Oh, no, the table's not a car. It doesn't need oil. But thanks.

((On a side note, I had never considered the literal meaning of that when I said it, aha.))

[naicha]

_{[ Taiwan laughs again. ]} Not the table, silly!

It means, "make an effort." Show 'em what you've got.

_{((My Chinese friends say it all the time, so I never gave it much thought. lmao))}

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Oh! OK.

[He isn't sure what oil has to do with that exactly, but he nods and smiles faintly, anyway.]

I will, thanks. And I hope you enjoy reading today's paper.