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Bruce, Caroline

Memories

I stole this one from the lovely kittytech, who stole it from the previous incarnation of her blog, on which she had stolen it from someone else. So call this living on stolen time.

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we
don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND
FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or
bad-BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this little paragraph
on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T
ACTUALLY remember about you.

Comments

I remember when you posted this entry in your LJ asking for fictional memories, and people responded to it.

A memory of Bruce

Ah, Bruce, I have such a special memory of you-a memory that makes me smile with delight and caring every time I think of it.
I remember the time that you cooked me chicken. Ah, it was such good chicken too, so tender, so moist, and it showed your skills as the gourmet chef you are. I loved every bite I ate, but you dear Bruce, suffered terribly.
It was such tremendusly delicious chicken dear Bruce, and you had the barbaric need to slather ketchup all over it. Again, it was such mouth waterihngly spectacular chicken-I could not, in good conscience, let you ruin such a delectable cooking job by covering it with ketchup. I regret to say I hid the ketchup from you, and continued to plead innocence as to its whereabouts, even when you threatened me with pouring a pan full of chicken broth over my head. It was one of those mixed memories, you know? For while I hated the sadness in your voice, and your threats of never speaking to me again, (which thankfully you have continued to speak to me), I could not allow you to ruin such a work of art as the chicken you prepared for me by putting ketchup all over it.
Oh and yeah, I guess it's about time I told you what I did with the ketchup, for this has happened so long ago.
I took it home with me, because I had recently run out, and I put it upon french fries, where it belongs.
Dude! Dude! Dude! Oh, I have this great memory of, oh hahahahahaha, this is great! Anyhow, I remember you called me up at, it must have been 2:30 in the morning and you were desperate as all hell! You wanted to meet me down at the nearby grocery store and we were to wait for the Coca-Cola truck to come by and we were going to go in and take as many cases of Coke as we could without being seen because you, Mister Man, were going through major Coca-Cola withdrawals and you just couldn't stand it because it was the end of the month and you and I were both stone cold broke! Wasn't that great? I forget whether we actually scored the Cokes or not and how we actually may have gotten away with it, but wasn't it great?
You know, I do remember that night. IT ended in disaster. Some scoundrel had broken into the Coke truck and replaced all the Coke in it with that other ... stuff. And the driver told us we could have a free shipment of coke if we tracked down the offender, remember? Now, who'd that offender turn out to be again?
Oh, it was that greasy-haired punk kid that worked at the Taco Bell about a block away. He was new and I guess somebody wanted to play a trick on him, but we sure showed him, didn't we, and we did get those Cokes! I got a black eye for my trouble while trying to wrestle him to the ground so you could tie him up and deliver him to the Coke truck driver like a Christmas ham!
I remember that time when you bought me that $10,000 computer system. It was supposed to be the top of the line but when we got it home we found out that it was completely and totally in pieces. There were about 50 different boxes, and no directions at all. When we tried putting it together we discovered that nothing fit the way it was supposed to, and we ended upplaying catch with the different pieces. At one point, if I remember correctly, we somehow managed to clobber each other with some really hard object, (most likely the PC case), and we ended up calling 911 so that we could get to the hospital. After I got 75 stitches and you had 60, we came back here. I had a mushroom burger and you had a ketchup sandwich and we sat around whining for the rest of the night about how badly our heads hurt.

Oh yeah, and that computer? Well, we decided that it just wasn't worth it so we packed it up and sent it back. Next time, let's try for a great stereo system, okay?