Prompt: [He] paused and said, "[Fine], [inspire] me," arms crossed and eyebrows raised in disbelief [that I could do any such thing].
Special Challenge: Macgyver[ism]
Festive Challenge: Include one or more party items
He paused and said, "Fine, then teach me," arms crossed and eyebrows raised in disbelief that Courtney could do any such thing.
“I will!” she retorted, shoving an empty cardboard box at him and pointing to the papers hanging haphazardly from the conference room ceiling. “In the meantime, put that 6 foot 7 of yours to use and take Cassiopeia and her friends down.”
A slow smirk seeped across Jamison’s lips as he took the box from his assistant. She was so much fun to rile up, and he seemed to do it naturally.
“Well? Wipe that stupid smile off your face and get to work!” she fumed. “You’ve tied up this room for long enough.” Courtney began scooping the mass of papers all over the tables and floor into another box. Jamison reached up to tug a paper off the ceiling, inspected it, dropped it into the box, inspected it some more, and then looked up at the next piece.
“Faster,” Courtney prompted.
“Why the hurry? It’s not like anyone ever uses this room.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s your playground!” she snapped. “You’ve held up two committee meetings and you’re about to postpone a third with your dilly-dallying.”
Jamison sighed and removed the second paper. “I make exceptional stick figures. Want to see?” he held it out to Courtney for her perusal. She snatched it from him and threw it into her box. Jamison pouted. “I worked hard on that one!” Courtney bit her tongue to keep from encouraging him with a reply.
“I really don’t see what the big deal is,” Jamison complained a little while later. He had succeeded in adding five more sheets to his box. Courtney had cleared off two tables and was working on filling her fourth box. “My back is starting to give out. I’m hungry. My arm hurts. Can I go to the bathroom?”
“No!” Courtney slammed a stack of papers into her box and paused to glare at Jamison. “You’re going to keep at this until you have your mess cleaned up.”
The following morning, Jamison slid his key into the lock on his back door entrance and twisted the handle only to find it wouldn’t budge. He frowned and tried again. It didn’t move. He backed up, aimed his shoulder, and shoved. Still nothing. That darn Courtney.... He walked around the building and entered the complex by the front door. He stalked down the hallway until his little office was in sight. And what a sight! It stopped him dead in his tracks, mouth gaping.
“Court!” he finally bellowed.
“Yes?” Courtney asked innocently as she pinned the last streamer in place. With a satisfied smile, she brushed her hands together and hopped of his desk to survey her work. His boxes of papers had been shoved against his back door. Streamers criss-crossed from wall to floor. Half-filled water balloons littered the floor, the filing cabinets, and rolled off his chair.
“Don’t worry,” she said pertly “you hardly use your office.”