Friday, October 05, 2007

Daft Punk

I would recommend Daft Punk for any sudden lapses in creative energy:

It was more than impossible to ignore the noise coming from the bar. After half an hour of unsuccessfully trying to get to sleep I sat up and swung my legs out of bed. As I wandered down the stairs, my suspicions were confirmed; the source of the noise was definitely the bar. And the noise itself? Daft Punk.
As I turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, the sheer volume of the music hit me. When I appeared in the doorway, Anderson looked up from behind the bar.
“Hey Avery!” He yelled over the music.
The waitress from the café was perched on one of the barstools. She smiled at me. Anderson nudged the music volume down.
“Avery, this is Felicity, Flick this is Avery. She’s staying with us for the summer,” Anderson introduced us.
“Hi,” she greeted. “Anderson was just showing off his skills.”
I glanced at him.
“I’m showing Flick how to make cosmopolitans,” he explained, unscrewing the top off a bottle of Smirnoff.
“Oh. Well, I just came down to ask you to lower the volume a little,” I turned to leave, but Anderson looked up.
“Hey, come over here, Ave'y, keep Flick company whilst I go grab some Cointreau,” His voice had an edge of pleading, so I turned around again and walked over to sit next to her.
She smiled again as Anderson disappeared.
“I’m sorry if we kept you up,” she said, glancing at my pyjamas.
“Uh, it’s okay.”
This was the whole part of conversations that I was bad at. As I sat there desperately thinking of something to say, Flick looked up. I followed her eyes and saw Isaac stood in the doorway. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me sat with his brother’s date.
“You must be Isaac,” Flick surmised.
“I must,” Isaac confirmed, moving to stand next to me. “I thought I heard you in here, Avery.”
His expression was unreadable as ever.
“I was just talking to Felicity-”
“Flick,” she chipped in, quickly, wrinkling her nose. “I hate Felicity,” she told us, “makes me sound like a rich little Daddy’s girl, which could not be further from the truth, let me tell you.”
I laughed.
She looked Isaac over before speaking. “You know, you look nothing like Anderson.”
I froze suddenly, but Isaac just smiled. “Thank you.”
Flick laughed, lightly.
“Okay,” Anderson announced, reappearing with an orange bottle in one hand and a lime in the other. “I guess it’s four cosmopolitans, then.”
“Not for me,” Isaac told him, quickly.
“Aw, little brother, lighten up. Besides, I need someone to take care of Avery and you can’t stay if you’re not gonna drink.”
Isaac scowled as Anderson flipped the lime up in the air, catching it deftly and quickly halving it with a knife. He squeezed the juice into each of the four glasses as Isaac pulled himself onto the barstool beside mine.
“Okay, one part cranberry,” he rattled off the ingredients as if he’d committed them to memory, adding the conundrum of liquids into the shaker, “one part cointreau, one and a half vodka and last, but not least, a slice of lime.”
Lastly he plopped in four ice cubes before firmly screwing on the top and shaking the mixture. All this he did whilst shooting Flick flirtatious smiles.
Beside me, Isaac rolled his eyes.

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