Disclaimer: I'd give Tanner his own talk show if it meant I could own Phil of the Future.
52 Pick-Up Continued
It was Phil, all right, and he did not look happy.
"Keely? What are you ... OH, I was suppose to meet you at -. My Bad."
"Phil, what are you doing? You room?"
Phil Diffy's room, if you ignored the assortment of time machine parts and doughnuts hung on one wall, was always beyond clean. It was immaculate. Maybe messy Phil escaped during his garage stay with Curtis, but the perfectionist aspect of his personality seemed to demand order. Not the kind of order that his little sister would settle for, but structure nonetheless.
Yet the classic tidy bedroom wasn't what Keely was experiencing at the moment. More like a bull had manage the full seven seconds times seven in Phil's room, and Phil? He was occupied returning his bedroom to a semblance of order, his movements dually motivated and exasperated. He obviously had been cleaning for some time already, not that part of his room was clean presently. There were patches of carpeting and even his desktop emerging through the clutter though.
"Did your sister do this?" Keely asked the obvious choice. "Did the time machine parts explode in your room again?" she hoped, repressing a smile.
"I was late."
"I know, but it's alright. We can go shopping some other time."
"No - I mean, 'No, I was late with my Pim payment, so Pimbellina snitched that I've been wizrding holograms to make my room look clean. My folks are giving me until they return with Pim from the Pickford Fairgrounds to have everything in here the way it appeared to be, or else."
"What's the problem? Wizrd the - was this pizza? Just zap the room right again."
"Pim suggested that I do it the current day way."
"Uh, Phil, just how long has your room been this way?"
"You don't want to know. Let's just say that I've learned my lesson and it'll never be like this again. Can you hand me that?"
"Is it safe?"
Phil focused on large items first, then he worked from one side of the room to the other. Sooner than either of them expected, it was becoming a matter of fine tuning. Now, Keely started volunteering suggestions. Still picking up bits and pieces, including the occasional future gadgets behind the door, under the bed, or wedged between the digits of his chair. He nearly missed Keely not-so-subtly asking him if he thought his desk needed a picture. Picking up a Penny Missile he hadn't seen since his ill fated attempt at gymnastics, he shrugged and passively agreed with her, as he often did.
Keely pushed the issue, "Maybe something in a silver frame?'
"Okay, I guess;" he muttered, "blast." Finding one of the Omnimatic Grabifiers equated to more work; now he'd have to find its partner. Maybe in the armor?
Her thumb flying, Keely took what she thought was a glamorous snapshot with her cellphone. Passing her phone along to an almost finished cleaning Phil, she wondered aloud, "Maybe a picture like this? Doesn't she look like the most crazy hot girl ever?"
"Not exactly how I'd describe her."
Exclaiming "What? WHAT? Why? Why I never!" a wound up, Keely turned and marched out of the room and down the hall.
Diffy looked at the phone's picture in one hand, and at the Giggle in his other. Returning the all-knowing Giggle to the trunk in his closet, he was hurt; she'd knocked the wind from his sails. His hand resting on the triangular Giggle, hushed words escaped from his lips as his fingertips traced its edges, "She ... she's the image of my wife when we were teens."
Somehow, part way down the staircase, her ears heard the first part, and it was enough to make her pause her descent before deciding what to do next.