Herman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
funny_herman) wrote2004-09-03 12:22 am
funny_herman) wrote2004-09-03 12:22 am
London Flashbacks.
Danny ushered Herman into an upscale men's clothing store.
"Now, look," said Danny, "I'm gonna get you into a real suit whether you like it or not. I would take you to a tailor's, but since we don't got all day, we can always get anything altered later if need be. You gotta have somethin' to wear to the theater, right? C'mon, don't be such a sourpuss."
Herman let himself be led through the shop. "I'm not being a-- a sourpuss," he said. "I'm just a bit...unsure..."
"Unsure o' what?" Danny scoffed, scanning the store for a clerk. "That you'll look good in a three-piece?"
"It's really not my...er, thing."
Danny laughed. "Herman, you slay me sometimes. Don't worry. If you don't like it, fine, we won't get it. But if you do like it, we'll hafta get you a second one. I don't wanna let you walk outta here without a new set of threads, though. Not if I can help it. Now where the fuck...?"
A thin, balding, middle-aged man wearing a pince-nez on the bridge of his nose emerged from some rear room and approached them. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"
Danny took Herman's arm and pushed him forward a bit. "We're gonna dress this here fella up in the finest clothes you got."
==========
"If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly," said the actor upon the stage as Danny squirmed in his seat and tried to stay awake. He grumbled, "What the fuck is he talkin' about?"
Herman lightly jabbed him in the arm with his elbow and shushed him.
"I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none."
Danny yawned. But he caught the attention of a woman seated down the row from him, all blonde curls, green eyes, and smirking red lips. Danny felt her gaze on him, and he smiled back. At that, she coyly held a lace fan up to her cheek and turned back to watch the play.
Theater broads ain't so bad after all, Danny thought.
[Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 7]
==========
The bartender at the tavern set down two tall pints of Guinness before the two men, and they toasted their friendship before Herman out-chugged Danny, who nearly spewed beer from his nose laughing at the fact that he'd been out-chugged.
By the end of the night, Herman was at the old upright piano, surrounded by fellow drunken patrons, all raucously singing the German drinking songs he'd taught them. Danny was sitting on top of the bar, waving a half-full glass to-and-fro in time to the music, the plump, giggling, auburn-haired waitress leaning back between his knees.
More rounds of beer were bought for the "Kraut" and the "Yank," who let themselves be called that only if they could call everyone else "bloody Limeys."
==========
Total propositions recieved during the weekend (not necessarily all were accepted):
Herman -- female: 23; male: 19
Danny -- female: 28; male: 12
It was a close race.
==========
They stood on the bridge, leaning on the stone parapet. Each smoking a cigarette, they looked out over the Thames as the sun set on the city.
Danny squinted at the fading light behind the hulking, sooty buildings, and exhaled a plume of smoke into the breeze. "Some weekend, huh?" he said, and turned to Herman with a grin.
Herman nodded, returning the smile, watching a tugboat scuttle along the river below. "Yes," he replied a little dreamily. "I really needed this. Thank you."
Danny flicked ashes off his cigarette and took another drag. "Don't mention it."
Some silence passed.
"D'ya think I should tell 'er? I should, shouldn't I."
Herman cocked an eyebrow slightly and gave Danny a sidelong glance. "Tell who what?"
Still gazing out over the river, Danny replied, "Frankie. Should I tell Frankie. Ya know. That I...ya know."
Herman took a drag on his cigarette. "It's up to you," he sighed. "Do whatever you feel you need to do"
"Yeah, see, but that's the thing. I bet that the moment I say it, I'd just fuck everything up. I'm really good at fucking things up, ya know. But there's just-- I dunno, this part o' me that-- I dunno."
Herman looked at Danny, his profile darkening under the setting sun. "I think she'd forgive you if you ever fucked up."
"Besides my sisters, I don't think I ever apologized to anyone so much in my life," he chuckled, and he grew silent again. Smoke trailed wistfully off the end of his cigarette. "Love means having to say you're sorry every fuckin' five minutes."
For some reason, that brought up a laugh in Herman's throat. Danny glanced up at him and started snickering as well. Shaking his head, he put his cigarette out on the parapet and flicked it over the side.
"C'mon. I know a guy who has some real good shit for our last night here."
"Real good shit, eh?"
"Yup. Trust me. We're gonna have one more bash before we go."
A boat whistle pierced the evening as the two men turned and walked off the bridge.
"Now, look," said Danny, "I'm gonna get you into a real suit whether you like it or not. I would take you to a tailor's, but since we don't got all day, we can always get anything altered later if need be. You gotta have somethin' to wear to the theater, right? C'mon, don't be such a sourpuss."
Herman let himself be led through the shop. "I'm not being a-- a sourpuss," he said. "I'm just a bit...unsure..."
"Unsure o' what?" Danny scoffed, scanning the store for a clerk. "That you'll look good in a three-piece?"
"It's really not my...er, thing."
Danny laughed. "Herman, you slay me sometimes. Don't worry. If you don't like it, fine, we won't get it. But if you do like it, we'll hafta get you a second one. I don't wanna let you walk outta here without a new set of threads, though. Not if I can help it. Now where the fuck...?"
A thin, balding, middle-aged man wearing a pince-nez on the bridge of his nose emerged from some rear room and approached them. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"
Danny took Herman's arm and pushed him forward a bit. "We're gonna dress this here fella up in the finest clothes you got."
==========
"If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly," said the actor upon the stage as Danny squirmed in his seat and tried to stay awake. He grumbled, "What the fuck is he talkin' about?"
Herman lightly jabbed him in the arm with his elbow and shushed him.
"I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none."
Danny yawned. But he caught the attention of a woman seated down the row from him, all blonde curls, green eyes, and smirking red lips. Danny felt her gaze on him, and he smiled back. At that, she coyly held a lace fan up to her cheek and turned back to watch the play.
Theater broads ain't so bad after all, Danny thought.
[Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 7]
==========
The bartender at the tavern set down two tall pints of Guinness before the two men, and they toasted their friendship before Herman out-chugged Danny, who nearly spewed beer from his nose laughing at the fact that he'd been out-chugged.
By the end of the night, Herman was at the old upright piano, surrounded by fellow drunken patrons, all raucously singing the German drinking songs he'd taught them. Danny was sitting on top of the bar, waving a half-full glass to-and-fro in time to the music, the plump, giggling, auburn-haired waitress leaning back between his knees.
More rounds of beer were bought for the "Kraut" and the "Yank," who let themselves be called that only if they could call everyone else "bloody Limeys."
==========
Total propositions recieved during the weekend (not necessarily all were accepted):
Herman -- female: 23; male: 19
Danny -- female: 28; male: 12
It was a close race.
==========
They stood on the bridge, leaning on the stone parapet. Each smoking a cigarette, they looked out over the Thames as the sun set on the city.
Danny squinted at the fading light behind the hulking, sooty buildings, and exhaled a plume of smoke into the breeze. "Some weekend, huh?" he said, and turned to Herman with a grin.
Herman nodded, returning the smile, watching a tugboat scuttle along the river below. "Yes," he replied a little dreamily. "I really needed this. Thank you."
Danny flicked ashes off his cigarette and took another drag. "Don't mention it."
Some silence passed.
"D'ya think I should tell 'er? I should, shouldn't I."
Herman cocked an eyebrow slightly and gave Danny a sidelong glance. "Tell who what?"
Still gazing out over the river, Danny replied, "Frankie. Should I tell Frankie. Ya know. That I...ya know."
Herman took a drag on his cigarette. "It's up to you," he sighed. "Do whatever you feel you need to do"
"Yeah, see, but that's the thing. I bet that the moment I say it, I'd just fuck everything up. I'm really good at fucking things up, ya know. But there's just-- I dunno, this part o' me that-- I dunno."
Herman looked at Danny, his profile darkening under the setting sun. "I think she'd forgive you if you ever fucked up."
"Besides my sisters, I don't think I ever apologized to anyone so much in my life," he chuckled, and he grew silent again. Smoke trailed wistfully off the end of his cigarette. "Love means having to say you're sorry every fuckin' five minutes."
For some reason, that brought up a laugh in Herman's throat. Danny glanced up at him and started snickering as well. Shaking his head, he put his cigarette out on the parapet and flicked it over the side.
"C'mon. I know a guy who has some real good shit for our last night here."
"Real good shit, eh?"
"Yup. Trust me. We're gonna have one more bash before we go."
A boat whistle pierced the evening as the two men turned and walked off the bridge.