|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Aug 17, 2009 4:46 pm
Jack settled into the sideside cafe, placing the baby carrier that held Remy on a seat next to him at the 4-chaired table. He ordered a donut and a frappucino for himself, and rummaged in Remy's diaper bag for some baby food. Honestly, he remarked to himself, it was a sorry kind of pirate that could not survive the heat of the tropics. But, damn, it was hot.
He and Remy had had an interesting plane ride, to say the least, but at least they were here and in one piece. Jack had heard that a movie director who usually did zombie flicks might be interested in having him do some costumes. Since he'd been locked in Chicago for so long, Jack jumped at the opportunity to come out and try to sell his brand (under the unlikely alias of Captain Calico) to a wider audience through creating free costumes for a production. Surely, he thought, credit in a movie would be worth the heat.
Jack had dressed Remy in a new outfit--one that had a second wing (plush, but feathered, like a large stuffed animal) to balance out Remy's attached to it, a pumpkin orange shirt with a swirl of autumn leaves whipping around the torso, and brown shorts with a hole cut in them for the tail. Jack's aim was two-fold: to show off Remy as a model for his costumes and not to alarm the filmmaker with the fact that his kid had more appendages than were usual for a human child.
He spooned a bit of apricot jelly into the baby's mouth and waited, as Remy considered the mush in his mouth before spitting it all over his bib. Jack sighed and took a towel out from the bag to clean it up, wondering what he would do if that filmmaker saw him like this.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 1:29 pm
Bernard ached as he tried to balance a backpack, a child, and her bag. Gravity had chosen the day to work against him, toying with his weary bones. Yet it was a necessary action to take for sake of convenience. They were far from home, and running to fetch things from the hotel seemed more of a hassle than it was worth when they were handling business matters. True business matters! It felt amusingly pleasant to be going more than thrift store shopping.
"Bernie, hurry up - you're being slow." Shaun's voice had resonated, one foot of his set within the cafe, the other left out onto the street. He himself was carrying things, notably a large metal box which looked as if it carried a top secret government project, or something of great value. "I had to carry this, you can't carry a kid?"
"Shut-up. Your camera isn't heavy; that box is the lightest thing I've ever carried. Why'd you bring it anyway?" Bernard had snapped, his voice raising in a whiny pitch. A sigh escaped him as he reached the door, passing through it before shifting Summer in his arms. He had looked down at her, his lip quirking as she sneezed, lolling her head back and looking around as if entranced by the smells and sounds of the little cafe.
"I'm not leaving Bessie in a hotel. Don't be so whiny. It's your fault you had a kid." Shaun had waved the comment off. His eyes had scanned the grounds before spotting a man at a table, alone with a ... peculiar looking kid. For a moment, he seemed perplexed, glancing around to see who was seated where once more. The last thing he wanted to do was look like an idiot in front of someone for approaching the wrong person entirely.
While he was doddling, however, Bernard had wasted little time, sliding his bags onto the floor after approaching Jack's table. He had given something of a sheepish smile. "Excuse me; you wouldn't happen to be a costume designer waiting on a couple of people here, would you?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2009 7:38 pm
Jack hastily mopped the front of his child's shirt, shaking his head. Geez, it figured that the one day that he needed Remy to stay clean and presentable that the kid would get all dirty. He relentlessly scrubbed at the shirt. Oh well. He'd just have to make do.
On being addressed by the man, Jack looked up and grinned, quickly recovering his normal flair. "As it would happen, I am such a person. Are you a filmmaker on the look out for one? The name's Jack Calico, costume designer at large."
In the mean time, Remy eyed the front of his shirt from his high chair, as though confused as to how it had become covered in apricot goo. The child in question was wearing an odd assortment of feathers, buckles, and brocade, so that it appeared to be a very pretty girl with wings in a British naval uniform reminiscent of the nineteenth century with a large green slime spatter down the front.
Jack winced at the stain, but gave Remy a wry smile. "I meant to have a model of one of my designs for you, but lunch had other plans. May I introduce my kid Remy?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
