@oshizu I'm going to say it was Arianna who put the kibosh on Wendell talking to younger ladies. She does like to keep up appearances.
Glad you like Morris's partywear. He almost never gets to wear it because he's always the caterer at parties. He was just in it accidentally when I took those pictures, but it does look nice. I might use it more often just because.
@Joria You're such a faithful reader and commenter. I knew you'd be back! Missed you of course, but I'm so glad to hear that you like Lula and that you appreciated my fart jokes.
@laurenannie Thanks! Me, too. I'd just let most of the elders be idle or go fishing for awhile, but it actually seems to make much more sense that if they want to live forever, they'd want to do something with their lives, so I'm really happy to have found something for Morris to do.
Chapter 66: El Lobo
Tallulah: Aw, come on! Cut me a break! It’s 11 p.m. and I’m starving. My grampa Morris won’t let me go home until he’s done reviewing and you know how long he takes choosing adjectives!
Vendor: Your grampa Morris has cut my business in half. I’m losing money right and left! Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re dating my son and that kind of creeps me out.
Tallulah: Oh, okay. I’ll pay full price. But go easy on the spice. I’m just a child.
Tallulah: Zero stars. Terrible service. Clearly hates adorable charming children.
Tallulah: That witch! How did she know?
Morris: This is an absolute masterpiece. It’s an unimaginable crime that it’s going to run next to the ad for Diamonds are for Sims VI. Next week I’m lobbying for the front page. No more small time for Morris Spiffendale!
Tallulah: Thank you so much for coming over, Billie! You are so awesome! I know it’s late, but I really need one more friend and it just has to be you. I love you so much!
Billie Jang: Well, I’ve thought it over, and it really thing surrendering to your every whim is the best course of action for me, even at 1 a.m. on a school night.
Morris: Ah, the Spice Market. Let’s see who’s going to be crushed under the wheels of the Morris Machine today, shall we?
Vendor: I’ve got teas! You want teas! I have a plethora of teas! I’m not teas-ing you! I’ve even got tisans! Artisanal tisans!
Morris: What is this nonsense? I can’t review this! I could make this at home! Be off with you!
Tallulah: Excuse me, ma’am? I’m a poor lost little girl, abandoned by her relatives, but I’m determined to do well in school despite many setbacks and I was wondering if you’d like to help me with my homework?
Rando: Honey, if you’re doing your homework in a karaoke bar you got more problems than i can solve, but you’re cute so I can try and dredge up some geography from the back reaches of my mind.
Tallulah: Oh, thank you so much! You’re as lovely inside as you are outside!
Rando: Listen, kiddo, I’ve been hanging out at this bar for awhile so I’ve rejected much better pickup lines than that. Now let’s get down to business before the contest starts.
Morris: Hey, wait a minute! Aren’t you El Lobo? We work together at the Times! Oh, gosh I am such a fan! I heard after you reviewed a sculptor last week he tried to fling himself into the giant Hole of Death in Uptown! You’re a legend!
Diego: Oh, well. It was nothing. I mean, those glass barriers are so high he never even got close. Always overreaching, that guy. As were his artistic endeavors, so were his suicide attempts. But hey, I loved your piece on the Myshuno Meadows food carts. Deliciously insidious.
Morris: You read it? Oh, wow! I can’t believe you read my column! I’m sorry to gush it’s just, I mean . . . you’re El Lobo!
Diego: Oh, no. Please. Don’t apologize. I adore it. To tell you the truth, people don’t fawn over me nearly often enough.
Diego: First samosa, huh?
Morris: *coughs* Wow. Yeah. That was unexpected.
Diego: I know it’s dramatic, but to be honest I think they amp up the spice when their stock of potatoes goes bad. It masks the flavor and has the added benefit of incinerating any bacteria.
Morris: Oh, that’s good. Really good. Can I use that?
Diego: Of course. Consider it a gift.
Morris: I’d love to hear your thoughts on Chez Llama. It’s been my favorite for ages, but I really feel like they’re in a rut lately.
Diego: Would you believe I’ve never been? I mean, I’ve heard all about it of course, but I’m such a city guy I can just never bring myself to make the trek out to Willow Creek.
Morris: Oh, you’ve got to let me take you some time. They’ve got this crazy wall sculpture that I’ve always suspected is completely derivative, but I’m not an art guy and I can’t figure out what it’s derivative of.
Diego: Okay. It’s a date.
Tallulah: Dad, pick me up. My homework is done and Grampa's been locked in a karaoke booth with a guy in a flowered suit for hours. Send help.
Diego: So he said my outfit was loud, and I said I wouldn’t know because his most recent performance had left my ears ringing so hard I was temporarily rendered completely deaf.
Morris: Amazing! Diego, you are my kind of guy!
Diego: Morris, darling, it’s mutual. It’s so seldom I meet someone whose disdain for the inadequacies of the world matches mine. I think the two of us could really cut a swath through this town.
Morris: So, listen, I don’t want you to feel threatened by me. I know we do the same job at the same paper and I’m just a much, much better cook than you, and El Lobo just told me that my metaphors are leaps and bounds ahead of yours, but I really think our work environment will be much better served by our keeping at least an appearance of cordial civility, don’t you?
Geeta: I just came down for some tea.
Morris: Right. That’ll sooth your nerves. Good for you. And hey, listen, you’ve got tenure at the paper, so I’m sure they’ll keep you on in some capacity even as my popularity as a columnist grows and grows.
Geeta: You used to be a chef, right?
Morris: That’s right! And a Master Mixologist!
Geeta: I’m going to send my son down to talk to you. It’s time he learned what happens when you grow old and bitter all alone.
Morris: He won’t learn that from me! I’m absolutely at the top of my game! And I’ll have you know I had a very successful and loving marriage back in the day.
Geeta: Oh, yeah? Did your wife die just to get out of talking to you? I’m considering that right now.
Morris: Didn’t work for her, and it wouldn’t work for you, either.
Geeta: Good night, Morris.
Vendor: Here’s your next course, Mr. Spiffendale.
Morris: Hang on, I’ve got like two more bites here. You got the last one started yet?
Vendor: It’s on its way. You sure you want to eat everything on the menu all at once?
Morris: I’m a serious journalist on a deadline! Now, keep ‘em coming!
Tallulah: That’s right. You heard me! I’m going to mop the court with you, sucker!
Tallulah: Spiffendale crouches for her signature shot. History will credit this iconic player with bringing the granny shot back into prevalence, as well as making the sport of basketball a million times prettier.
Raj: So, my Mom told me to come down here and get a glimpse of my sad, miserable future if I don’t find a wife and give her grandbabies soon, do you know anything about that?
Morris: I know your mother is an unpleasant harpy who wouldn’t know a decent croquette if it smacked her on the nose.
Raj: No kidding! I mean, she’s my mom and I love her, but the woman is a real nightmare sometimes. She even reviews the food I cook at home, except instead of stars she uses babies. You mind if I stay down here with you for awhile?
Morris: Raj, welcome to my office! Let’s trade old chef war stories, shall we?
Morris: Hang on just a second . . . “tastes like a wet sock rolled in rancid buerre blanc.” Okay, just didn’t want to let that thought escape, now what were we talking about?
Raj: Wow. I hope you never review my restaurant.
Morris: Certainly not. We’re friends now. It would be a conflict of interest.
Tallulah: Yet again, Spiffendale popularizes a revolutionary technique, dazzling the crowd. Some call the two-handed dribble uncouth, old-fashioned, even totally-against-the-actual-rules-of-basketall, but Tallulah Spiffendale calls it perfection.
Raj: *coughs* Whoops! I guess the potato stock went bad again.
Morris: Poor guy. Been there.
Morris: What do you say, kitten? Should we do it again tomorrow?
Tallulah: Grampa Morris, I can’t help but feel that it’s not exactly appropriate for me to be hanging out in a big city practically by myself until all hours of the night.
Morris: Oh, we gave up on the appearance of normal, appropriate childhoods generations ago! Just ask your Grandma Pernille! You hang in there, honey. The day will come soon enough when you’ll get to call the shots.
Otto: Is this thing on?
Watcher: Hey! About time you showed up! I have so much to tell you about! You would not believe the new kid. She’s a holy terror! And wait until I tell you what Morris is up to!
Catherine: Hush. I’m listening to my grandson tell jokes.
Watcher: But . . but . . . but . . . I have things! Things to say! Oh, you look so happy. Darn it! Never mind. You enjoy.
Catherine: *sigh* This is the life.
