Post by Dewey on Oct 12, 2008 16:32:57 GMT -5
((maybe taylor swift was around back then.. ha))
"She's not your type, you know."
Anthony Iaconelli, three bites away from finishing his Taco Bell lunch, turned his attention from the Chalupa Baja in his hands to the best friend sitting beside him. Murphy Montgomery. They were currently crusing the outskits of Arcadia in Murphy's red pickup truck, a 2000 Ford 150 four by four. He'd bought it as a high school graduation present to himself. Lord knew his parents wouldn't spare a dime toward it. Especially when he informed them he'd be joining the marines instead of pursuing a college education.
Anthony reached over to lower the volume of Tim McGraw's current sonata. He and Murphy were both closet country music fans. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he scoffed at the elder's comment. "I wasn't aware I had a type."
"Sure, you do. Quiet, shy girls. Cute little brunettes usually. You like to make 'em laugh." He took a sip from Anthony's extra large cup of Mountain Dew Baja Blast. His own can of root beer was empty and discarded in the truck cabin's back seat. "You're a family guy, Anthony. You love your mom and ol' man, and they love you. You go to church every Sunday!" He laughed here. "You probably want to date a girl who ends up teaching Sunday school or something."
Anthony only smirked. "All right, but you forget one important thing. She has to be able to cook."
"Move back to the 50's, man. Women have ventured away from the kitchen. Getting jobs and all now. Holding CEO positions. I hear they can even vote, too." They both laughed.
"You're all kinds of messed up. This isn't one of your 'to conquer' lists, Murph. Marcus will rip your nuts off if you mess with Amy."
"You're just saying that because you want her as much as I do."
"I don't think it's her you want," said Anthony, reclaiming his Mountain Dew for a quick sip. "And don't even say otherwise. I know you, man. Sticking around your sorry @ss since third grade, I'd hope I knew something about how your mind works."
Murphy drew the pickup to a stop while a traffic light was still yellow. It was Sunday, anyhow. Neither was in a rush. "Look, Amy's almost 18. I think she can make her own decisions. Marcus isn't her dad."
"She thinks you're a good guy. Just like every single girl you've ever bedded has thought." He looked down at the Chalupa Baja in his hands, and decided on another bite. It couldn't beat his mother's spaghetti and meatball dinner by far, but God he was starving! "When you leave them the next morning without saying a word, they know better."
"What the hell, man. What's with you? Did you get friggin' born again this morning or something?"
"Just kickin' you straight facts."
"You're rippin' on my game. I'm twenty-one. I'm supposed to be playing the field. And like you should talk! You used to be the same way, Conelli. Don't even sound all high and mighty."
"I'm not trying to sound high and mighty. I'm telling you that Marcus will kick your @ss if you go about this the way you go about every other girl in your past. And hey, for the record, at least my ex's still talk to me."
Murphy rolled his eyes. Where did Anthony get off preaching to him about the do's and don't of one night stands? Or telling him who was and wasn't off limits? God, he sounded like the dad Murphy couldn't stand back home. He was considering crashing at the Conelli house for the next few weeks until his regiment's next assignment, but if he was going to constantly going to get an earful from Anthony...
"C'mon, don't give me the cold shoulder now. I'm just saying. Watch your back. Marcus isn't exactly thrilled that you've taken an interest in his only kid sister. Just.. play it cool for now or something."
"Why, so you can make your move?"
Anthony laughed. "You afraid she's gonna fall for me instead?"
"Nor really," said Murphy. "I mean, this is you we're talking about here."
"Ha ha. Well if you're so confident about it, then you've got nothing to worry about. I'll be her rebound guy when you break her heart in 24 hours."
Murphy smirked. "I'm not that bad of--"
"SHH!" Anthony held up a hand and raised the volume of the radio. Taylor Swift's Our Song churned over the speaker system. Anthony closed his eyes, held his cup to his mouth, and began to imitate the country sweetheart. "Our song is the slammin screen doors, sneaking out late, tappin' on your window"--he tapped on an imaginary window dividing him and Murphy--"when we're on the phone, and you talk reeal slow... cause it's late and your mama don't know."
"Wow, yeah, that'll win over the ladies, Conelli." Murphy smirked, shaking his head, and continued driving the pickup truck down the backroads they'd come to love.
"She's not your type, you know."
Anthony Iaconelli, three bites away from finishing his Taco Bell lunch, turned his attention from the Chalupa Baja in his hands to the best friend sitting beside him. Murphy Montgomery. They were currently crusing the outskits of Arcadia in Murphy's red pickup truck, a 2000 Ford 150 four by four. He'd bought it as a high school graduation present to himself. Lord knew his parents wouldn't spare a dime toward it. Especially when he informed them he'd be joining the marines instead of pursuing a college education.
Anthony reached over to lower the volume of Tim McGraw's current sonata. He and Murphy were both closet country music fans. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he scoffed at the elder's comment. "I wasn't aware I had a type."
"Sure, you do. Quiet, shy girls. Cute little brunettes usually. You like to make 'em laugh." He took a sip from Anthony's extra large cup of Mountain Dew Baja Blast. His own can of root beer was empty and discarded in the truck cabin's back seat. "You're a family guy, Anthony. You love your mom and ol' man, and they love you. You go to church every Sunday!" He laughed here. "You probably want to date a girl who ends up teaching Sunday school or something."
Anthony only smirked. "All right, but you forget one important thing. She has to be able to cook."
"Move back to the 50's, man. Women have ventured away from the kitchen. Getting jobs and all now. Holding CEO positions. I hear they can even vote, too." They both laughed.
"You're all kinds of messed up. This isn't one of your 'to conquer' lists, Murph. Marcus will rip your nuts off if you mess with Amy."
"You're just saying that because you want her as much as I do."
"I don't think it's her you want," said Anthony, reclaiming his Mountain Dew for a quick sip. "And don't even say otherwise. I know you, man. Sticking around your sorry @ss since third grade, I'd hope I knew something about how your mind works."
Murphy drew the pickup to a stop while a traffic light was still yellow. It was Sunday, anyhow. Neither was in a rush. "Look, Amy's almost 18. I think she can make her own decisions. Marcus isn't her dad."
"She thinks you're a good guy. Just like every single girl you've ever bedded has thought." He looked down at the Chalupa Baja in his hands, and decided on another bite. It couldn't beat his mother's spaghetti and meatball dinner by far, but God he was starving! "When you leave them the next morning without saying a word, they know better."
"What the hell, man. What's with you? Did you get friggin' born again this morning or something?"
"Just kickin' you straight facts."
"You're rippin' on my game. I'm twenty-one. I'm supposed to be playing the field. And like you should talk! You used to be the same way, Conelli. Don't even sound all high and mighty."
"I'm not trying to sound high and mighty. I'm telling you that Marcus will kick your @ss if you go about this the way you go about every other girl in your past. And hey, for the record, at least my ex's still talk to me."
Murphy rolled his eyes. Where did Anthony get off preaching to him about the do's and don't of one night stands? Or telling him who was and wasn't off limits? God, he sounded like the dad Murphy couldn't stand back home. He was considering crashing at the Conelli house for the next few weeks until his regiment's next assignment, but if he was going to constantly going to get an earful from Anthony...
"C'mon, don't give me the cold shoulder now. I'm just saying. Watch your back. Marcus isn't exactly thrilled that you've taken an interest in his only kid sister. Just.. play it cool for now or something."
"Why, so you can make your move?"
Anthony laughed. "You afraid she's gonna fall for me instead?"
"Nor really," said Murphy. "I mean, this is you we're talking about here."
"Ha ha. Well if you're so confident about it, then you've got nothing to worry about. I'll be her rebound guy when you break her heart in 24 hours."
Murphy smirked. "I'm not that bad of--"
"SHH!" Anthony held up a hand and raised the volume of the radio. Taylor Swift's Our Song churned over the speaker system. Anthony closed his eyes, held his cup to his mouth, and began to imitate the country sweetheart. "Our song is the slammin screen doors, sneaking out late, tappin' on your window"--he tapped on an imaginary window dividing him and Murphy--"when we're on the phone, and you talk reeal slow... cause it's late and your mama don't know."
"Wow, yeah, that'll win over the ladies, Conelli." Murphy smirked, shaking his head, and continued driving the pickup truck down the backroads they'd come to love.