I grabbed a tee-shirt out of a drawer to wear to the fitness center last night. It was the one on top, I didn't think much about it until I got to the gym.
Over a year ago, Nikki came to the critique group wearing a shirt that read: "Careful or you'll end up in my novel." We were all involved in writing novels so I ordered one for myself through the Wisconsin Public Television catalog. I used to wear it to city council meetings to aggravate opponents.
Last night at the gym, I was working out when a teenager dropped the weights he was using and came over. "What do I have to do to get in your novel?" he asked.
"Be noisy and obnoxious," I said.
"I can do that," he said. But he never really reached the point of being interesting so I haven't written anything about him, until now.
Gary pointed out later that the kid had to be looking at my chest which I would take as flattering at my age except teenage boys spend most of their time contemplating female bosoms.
I've taken two classes from Nikki so far, including the one that led to this blog. Now her taste in tee-shirts has me attracting the attention of boys in the throes of puberty. She's a troublemaker.
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