NNL February ?
Donovan watched the big screen TV intently, trying to follow the basketball game. In his jeans and ragged t-shirt, the army officer looked like any other sports fan on a Tuesday night.
"Seriously, what's this Seaborg got that I don't?" Frank crushed a beer can between his knees and burped loudly. Donovan looked over at Frank, one dark eye brow raised, disbelief evident in his expression.
"Manners, college degrees, a higher security clearance, money." Donovan answered his sulky friend. Frank let out a particularly odiferous burp as he stole Donovan's pop corn from the bowl in his lap. The reek of onions, green peppers, pepperoni and pickled eggs permeated the room. For his trouble Frank got a rib jab.
"This guy is too smart, Donovan, what could Olga see in him?" The drunk chrononaut whined.
"He's probably just a passing fancy, Frank, don't worry, Olga will be back to ignoring you in a week." Two years and the tune hadn't changed, Olga this and Olga that. It was just as bad listening to her.
"You're probably right, I save the world every week it seems like, avert neuclear disasters, prevent assassination attempts. What's better than that, I'm a hero." Frank put his feet up on Donovan's coffee table with a self-satisfied grin. Donovan just agreed.
"What I should do is go find Olga and tell her what I think of this new Einstein she's so infatuated with. I should bust him in the nose, an upper cut maybe or a jab to the ribs." Frank stood up and began to punch an imaginary oponent, dancing as if he were in the ring with Jarod.
"What you better do is sit down before you land on your ass, Frank." The mostly sober Donovan set his pop corn on the coffe table. Still fighing his imaginary friend, Frank led with a right hook, his weight on his right foot. Gravity and beer conspired to be his undoing. Off balance, the chrononaut tripped over the coffee table and landed in the middle of it. The pop corn went everywhere like a layer of fluffy snow. Beer and pizza landed on the carpet.
"Frank, now you've done it, and I just had this carpet cleaned last week." Craig Donovan helped his inebreated buddy off the broken coffee table.
"Guess I didn't anticipate that low blow." Frank rolled over, laughing as he brushed half a pizza off his t-shirt.
"No, but you'd better anicipate a cleaning bill come payday, Frank, or I'll take it out of your hide." Donovan grumbled.