"Come on, just a smile. I'll leave you alone if you can give me a smile."
I stubbornly anchored the muscles in my face downward, cementing the frown that people say is so much harder to summon than a smile. Regardless of the fact backing the idea, I continued to frown, not caring a wit about how much undue strain I was placing on my face.
Thinking he'd be cute, he started to sing, "And I said, 'What about 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'?"
He waited for me to finish. "Well, what about it?"
He patiently continued, "She said, 'I think I remember the film.'"
Reading the deadpan on my visage, he refused to relent.
"'As I recall, I think we both kinda liked it.' And I said, 'Well, that's one thing we've got.'"
"Since when?"
He stopped. "Since when what?"
"Since when have we both liked that movie? It's terrible."
"I dunno. I just assumed--"
"Ah-ha! You assumed! Well, look who assumed WRONG, mister!"
Mildly taken aback, he sat there, waiting for me to explain why I chose to break my silence with this of all things.
"That movie is totally useless," I continued, "There's absolutely nothing endearing or believable about the two people we're forced to follow. I don't care about their wacky adventures in Manhattan--if I wanted, I could hop on a bus and give you some real New York adventures! They should make a movie about my urban exploits!"
Discovering where he'd mislaid his voice, he opened his mouth to respond--as if I'd given him the chance.
"And another thing--what is the big deal with Tiffany's anyway? I mean, how many women have OBSESSED over receiving Tiffany's jewelry? What's the big deal? A diamond's a diamond, isn't it!? Since when does it matter where the rock--YES, a ROCK! From the dirty GROUND!--you're going to parade around on your finger comes from!?"
It was at that moment that he produced a little blue box from his pocket with a crestfallen expression.
"Well, I guess you won't be wanting this then?"
I considered the position I'd placed him in for a moment before taking the box from him, opening it, and taking that dirty from-the-ground rock on my finger.
"...I still hate that movie," I muttered as I grudgingly smiled. It was one we definitely wouldn't have in our collective cinematic library.
rating: 6
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