Chubaka Called Fifty Times - Sandy's Monday

  The Whisperer of the Abyss:

Sandy’s Never-Ending Monday Rants - Journal Entry 24

Fiction that's based on real life.  All names were changed, just in case.  

Chubaka Called Fifty Times
Chubaka called fifty times

Chubaka, my friend, called me 50 times yesterday. I was away from my cellular phone for 5 minutes tops, and my other friend, Shelly, answered it.

Shelly is detail-oriented; she always goes to salons, trims her brows, and looks dashing. She is also taller than me, regardless if I wear shoes with hills. She is taller than her husband. Anyway, Shelly dropped by to pick me up for shopping.

When I returned to the room, Shelly was like, “Chubaka called you 50 times?” 

I was like, “50 times?”

Shelly added, “Yes, 50 times. Chubaka?”

I was like, “Oh… it’s Chubaka. I have to call her back.”

Shelly and I sat in Shelly's car, and I dialled Chubaka’s number.

I said, “Hey,”

Chubaka answered, “Hello, who was that? Why was I not informed that you have friends?”

I replied, “Yes, Shelly.  Do you remember her from grade 4? I told you about her a million times. We're going shopping. You refused to go shopping with me because I had a positive test for Myeloma, remember? It doesn't mean I have it.”

Chubaka replied, “Oh, I was just wanting to say hi.”

I said, "Okay, why did you call 50 times though?”

Chubaka, “Nothing, I just wanted to say hi.”

I said, “Okay, I am near the mall going out with Shelly, shopping.”

Shelly was showing me signs to finish my conversation and go.

Chubaka had nothing else to say, it looked like. “Okay, I will put the phone down, bye.”

Shelly and I bought a bunch of clothes. A tailor altered the clothes that did not fit well, and all was well. Shelly got herself a beautiful dress for her parents’ anniversary event. I got shoes and pants and shirts for myself. Not a fan of dresses. Whatever is suitable to wear for work, I buy.

We ate lunch at the mall’s cafeteria, and then Shelly dropped me off at home.

It was so much fun. :) It was a good weekend.

No dating for me after Lasagna; no, thank you. 

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