 Help us we're a bunch of letters stuck in this box !!
Tag had attempted to plaster his hair back with an excessive amount of "Slicky-Sticky" gel, but all he had managed to do was come off looking like a drowned poodle. His bangs in particular refused to behave, and continued to curl up at the ends, as if he had just been flash-frozen while speeding on his broom. The only thing distinctly 'fifties' about him was the pegged jeans and the black t-shirt he'd dug up out of his pajamas pile.
However, he wasn't about to let party-theme issues keep him from fried food.
"Chocolate malts!" he exclaimed, dragging Bucky by the hand towards the tables. "Oh I know how we're supposed to do this! See. . . you stick two straws in the glass. . . and then you share." Tag gave her an evil wink.
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His glass is half-empty. And it's not what he ordered. |