![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Leo at the DMV
The sign changed again, adding the number sixty-nine to the bottom of the list. Leofric glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand: seventy-two, exactly the same as the last six times he'd looked.
Buying a car had seemed like a great idea at the time. He and Zita couldn't keep relying on Cya or her car being available to drive places, so he'd checked craigslist periodically for a few weeks until he found the perfect car (it was red!) for a few thousand, and bought it. That had all gone perfectly: it checked out as described, the transaction went effortlessly, and they made it back home in one piece.
Then Cya reminded him about the paperwork. Grumbling in good humor, he'd grabbed the papers he'd gotten from the seller as soon as his last Wednesday class was out and headed out to the DMV.
His grumbling was no longer in good humor. Absently tapping his fingers impatiently against the arm of his chair, Leofric was regretting not having checked the time he got there. It felt like he'd been waiting at the damn office for hours.
The 'now serving' number list scrolled up again, adding a one hundred and twelve, then a one hundred and thirteen in rapid succession. He glanced down at his number: seventy-two, exactly the same as the last seven times he'd looked.
If he'd known this was going to be such a pain, he would've sent Cynara to do it for him. No, that's right, he had to do it himself or it would be illegal – and besides, he should be able to do “grown-up things” sometimes.
If he'd known this was going to be such a pain, he'd have stolen the damn car.
The list of numbers scrolled up again, adding a thirty-five and a seventy to the bottom rows. Through a monumental effort of will, he resisted looking down to check whether his number had stayed the same. It was seventy-two. It had been seventy-two for the past however many insufferable minutes since he'd gotten it. There was no chance it was going to have magically turned into a number that was not seventy-two.
Leofric looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. The number seventy-two was printed clearly in boldface type. This time, he carefully crumpled the innocent slip of paper into a tiny ball.
- - - - -
I wrote this, uh... two years ago, almost exactly, and always meant to keep going with it and never did. So yeah.
Buying a car had seemed like a great idea at the time. He and Zita couldn't keep relying on Cya or her car being available to drive places, so he'd checked craigslist periodically for a few weeks until he found the perfect car (it was red!) for a few thousand, and bought it. That had all gone perfectly: it checked out as described, the transaction went effortlessly, and they made it back home in one piece.
Then Cya reminded him about the paperwork. Grumbling in good humor, he'd grabbed the papers he'd gotten from the seller as soon as his last Wednesday class was out and headed out to the DMV.
His grumbling was no longer in good humor. Absently tapping his fingers impatiently against the arm of his chair, Leofric was regretting not having checked the time he got there. It felt like he'd been waiting at the damn office for hours.
The 'now serving' number list scrolled up again, adding a one hundred and twelve, then a one hundred and thirteen in rapid succession. He glanced down at his number: seventy-two, exactly the same as the last seven times he'd looked.
If he'd known this was going to be such a pain, he would've sent Cynara to do it for him. No, that's right, he had to do it himself or it would be illegal – and besides, he should be able to do “grown-up things” sometimes.
If he'd known this was going to be such a pain, he'd have stolen the damn car.
The list of numbers scrolled up again, adding a thirty-five and a seventy to the bottom rows. Through a monumental effort of will, he resisted looking down to check whether his number had stayed the same. It was seventy-two. It had been seventy-two for the past however many insufferable minutes since he'd gotten it. There was no chance it was going to have magically turned into a number that was not seventy-two.
Leofric looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. The number seventy-two was printed clearly in boldface type. This time, he carefully crumpled the innocent slip of paper into a tiny ball.
- - - - -
I wrote this, uh... two years ago, almost exactly, and always meant to keep going with it and never did. So yeah.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Edit: which you knew. Whoops
no subject
no subject
Or being Very Good and just waiting for the DMV system and getting cookies from his Kept later for not crashing the department of motor vehicles.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject