Short Writings

3-2-1 Story

3-2-1 Story

Characters:

1: Stacee Jaxx from Rock of Ages (Play)

2: James Bond from Skyfall (Movie)

3: Lydia Martin from Teen Wolf (TV Show)

Objects:

1: The blue French horn from How I Met Your Mother (TV Show)

2: The apple from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (Book)

Setting:

1: The apartment from Friends (TV Show)

***

        “I don’t understand why this isn’t working,” James grumbles to himself. He wipes away a thick layer of sweat from his forehead before prodding at the piece of metal before him.

        “Maybe it’s because you’re using a hardware screwdriver instead of an instruments’ tool…” Lydia mutters, staring down at the peculiar blue French Horn she inherited from her late Grandmother. Lydia was never interested in learning how to play it, but, to her, it made a great finishing piece for her apartment’s living room.

        James abruptly stands up, tossing the screwdriver from his hands to the pearly white couch the horn sat on. He stalks off towards the open kitchen where an abundance of fresh food sat. He picks through the grocery bags before pulling out a bright yellowish green pear.

        “Did it not come with instructions?” James questions Lydia.

        With a roll of her hazel eyes, she tells him, “It’s from the early 20th century, Mr. Bond. Do you honestly think they thought of instructions on how to readjust the tubes?”

        James looks at her, a slight glare forming in his blue eyes. He bites into the pear, shaking his head in disbelief.

        “You’re lucky I’m in debt to your mother.” James explains.

        “Oh yes, lucky me.” She snaps back, turning swiftly back to the horn.

        A knock at the apartment’s front door sounds and the two of them turn, looking straight at it. Loud singing is muffled by the door, but Lydia just knows who it is.

        “You didn’t…” She tests James.

        A smirk forms on the older man’s lips and his hand toward the door. “Aren’t you going to let your guest in?”

        She let’s out a silent shriek of annoyance before shuffling towards the doorway. As soon as she opens it, she instantly regrets it when a toothy grin meets her frown.

        “Nice to see you too, Lydia.”

        “Hi, Stacee.” She opens the door a bit wider, letting the rockstar enter her home.

        “I heard you were having some music problems.” Stacee, standing there in his uniform of leather and too much mascara, smiles at the other two as he looks around the room. “I didn’t know you entered the business, sweetheart?”

        “I didn’t.” Lydia tells him as she shuts the door with a low sigh. “But if you can fix it, go ahead and try.”

        “Good luck, this one tends to yell when she’s angry.” James tells him before biting into the pear once more.

        “James, if there’s one thing you need to know about me, it’s that I can handle the ladies.” Stacee sends Lydia a sly and playful smirk her way.

        “Imbecile,” Lydia mutters in return.

        Stacee struts over to the ivory couch and bends down looking right at it. He tilts his jaw out and a bit to the side, studying the blue instrument.

        “Yep.” Stacee states.

        “‘Yep’, what?” Lydia takes a step forward, watching his facial expressions.

        “Definitely.” He tells her.

        James looks at the other two with a confused look on his face. Walking out of the kitchen, he enters the living room, plopping down on the couch next to the French horn.

        “Stacee, what is it?” James asks him.

        “Absolutely!” Stacee exclaims, his eyes still trained on the blue metal.

        “Jaxx, focus!” Lydia hisses at the man, leaning over the back of the couch to look right into his grimy face. “What’s wrong with my Grandmother’s blue French horn?!”

        Stacee grins at the two others, before explaining. “It’s broken. I can’t fix it.”

        “What?” She hisses once more. “Why are you here then?”

        “I owe your mother and Mr. Bond here a favor.”

        “What’s with everyone owing my mom something?”

        “She’s a very complex woman, I must say.” James admits, nodding his head in remembrance. “She knows a lot of people in my field.”

        Lydia looks at Stacee with an accusatory look. “What’s your excuse for knowing her?”

        “She’s hot.” He concludes.

        With a roll of her eyes, Lydia throws a couch pillow at Stacee’s head. She saunters off towards the kitchen, in need of a quick escape. If that man said one more thing…

        “Grab me a pomme, sweetheart.” The rock star calls to her.

        An evil smirk laces her lips and she complies with his wishes, reaching into a paper bag to retrieve one of the many bright red apples within it. She tosses the fruit up in the air a few times before launching it into the living room, straight at Stacee’s head.

        She doesn’t even waste her time to see if it hits him where she targeted it. She doesn’t have to when she hears a loud noise coming from the other room.

        “OW! You little witch!”