Write something that takes place at: the fashion show.
After a very, very quiet morning around the house, we took Max into town for a lunch out. While we were eating there was a rather impressive downpour, with a brief period of hail. I don't think it hit the farm, at least I haven't heard any complaints about it damaging apples, but it was rather worrisome while it lasted.
It also cooled things off significantly and cleared away the lingering smoke. So when we stepped outside after it had finished it was... fantastic.
Fingers crossed for continued clear skies for the foreseeable future.
"This was the best idea I've ever had bro."
"No doubt. I never would have thought of it myself. I mean, fashion designer? That sounds so g-"
"Right? But then you give it some more time and you realize you can design the skimpiest, sheerest outfits and then g-"
"Get the hottest girls on campus to parade around in them! Seriously, dude. I'm so jealous I didn't think of it first. At least you're letting me hang out backstage though. That's super awesome of you."
"For my best bro? Of course! And, again, sorry I couldn't invite you to the pre-show party at my place last night. No way I wanted too many dudes around, you know what I mean?"
"Obviously, dude. Obviously. I mean, I guess you had to have Sheldon there, since he's your, like, director or whatever. And he's not the least bit of competition for you anywaaa... hey Sheldon! What's up my man?"
"Whatever. Listen, I've got two things to tell you guys and you're not going to like either of them."
"Bro... maybe you should just not tell me either of them then?"
"Yeah, not an option since the first is: all your models are in the hospital with food poisoning."
"What? All of them? How is that even possible, dude?"
"Something about the sushi you served them at your party last night. I thank my guardian angel I didn't eat any of that crap."
"Same, bro. I was too busy drinking to eat."
"Yeah, I noticed. Anyway, we're two hours from curtain so here's the second thing: there are no other models available. So you two are going to have to wear the outfits on the catwalk."
"What? Hell no, bro. Hell no."
"Then Mrs. Fletcher will fail you and you won't get the last credit you need to graduate this year. She just told me that herself."
"Oh, and she sends her best wishes and says she is very much looking forward to your show. And, I think it's safe to say, even more so now that you'll also be modelling your designs."