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Polly's Treehouse

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Coconuts.
Lots and lots of coconuts.
Somehow, my treehouse has managed to gain a good 50 of them since I last visited this place.


I should find a use for them.
 
I had an idea that I can't seem to fully develop, but think it has some possibility.

A nineteen year old and her former babysitter.
Sitter lives nearby, sees the horrendous boyfriends she's been taking.
Decides to teach her what type of lover she truly needs.
(Sitter could be either male or female. Not a huge age difference between them, about 7 or 8 years?)
 
PollySays said:
Coconuts.
Lots and lots of coconuts.
Somehow, my treehouse has managed to gain a good 50 of them since I last visited this place.


I should find a use for them.
Click to expand...

I climb through the tree house's window hauling a heavy burlap sack on my back. Once inside, I dump the contents on the floor and send coconuts rolling everywhere. I snicker at my illogical little joke and then look up to see Polly. My face blanches, if only a bit, and I stutter and point around a bit.

"I was just here for ... those repairs ... on pipes. I'm a plumber! That's it, I'm a plumber and am definitely supposed to be here. These aren't my coconuts."
 
Erlind said:
I climb through the tree house's window hauling a heavy burlap sack on my back. Once inside, I dump the contents on the floor and send coconuts rolling everywhere. I snicker at my illogical little joke and then look up to see Polly. My face blanches, if only a bit, and I stutter and point around a bit.

"I was just here for ... those repairs ... on pipes. I'm a plumber! That's it, I'm a plumber and am definitely supposed to be here. These aren't my coconuts."
Click to expand...

-stares blankly at the newly arrived man-

You certainly aren't Santa, so that doesn't explain the sack.
Pipes?

-Peeks around slightly, then back to her intruder-
I have no plumbing, sir!


And here I was blaming a monkey.
 
I drop the sack and try very hard to pretend I was never holding it.

"Well, it was monkeys. That's why I'm here. There are too many monkeys with the coconuts and ... that's why you don't have any plumbing. I came here to fix it?"

As I stand there trying to reinforce with astoundingly flimsy story I also dig around in my cargo pocket. I produce another coconut and dump it on the floor before slowly backing towards the window.

"But I can see when I'm not needed. I am after all definitely a professional plumber."
 
Having decided I have caused just enough trouble in this little paradise, I dive out the window firmly into the aether and am gone. A quick escape.
 
*slips up the treehouse ladder, with a brown paper bag and note in hand*

Seeing that nobody seems to be around at the moment, he drops the brown paper bag - containing a bottle of vodka, and a couple of glasses - and a note.

With the overabundance of coconuts here, I figured I'd drop something off that goes with them. If you don't like it, let me know and I'll leave something else for my ever so devious and talented cowriter.

- B

PS. Be careful with that skunk of yours. Darn thing nearly hypnotized me.

After making sure nobody seemed to be around, he slipped back out of the house, leaving only his token of appreciation behind.
 
Awww. Thank you, Bevatoria.
But a set of glasses?

He'll need to come back. -nods-
 
He always preferred popping in when no-one was around. It was clear the place wasn't used a ton, but it was a treehouse; he understood that it was a retreat, a sanctuary from the normal hustle and bustle of life. Or maybe it had something to do with all the coconuts.

She didn't seem to be around, which he also preferred. Not that he wouldn't have minded her company; quite the opposite, in fact. But he also preferred to leave his notes and girts and then be on his way. He'd handled the latter part very well; a cooler and a bag of ice, seeing as she didn't seem to have a fridge in this little hideaway of hers.

He'd forgotten the note though. As he tipped the fedora on his head, squinting in the morning sun, he pulled out a pen; grateful that he at least always had his notebook with him. Even in this world, he figured he was one of the, oh, five people in the world who didn't have own a laptop. So he found himself, sitting there, leaned against a wall, writing into his notebook propped against his knee, enjoying the sun. He lost himself in the moment, a flurry of ideas and thoughts coming to him as he went on way longer then he'd planned - even breaking into the still unopened vodka he'd left her, and some of the ice; she'd understand.

He got so lost in what he was doing he didn't think about her getting back before he was done...
 
Sneaky man, busy man.
Scratching away thoughts and inklings, stoopedover a book as she steps back in, a glow, as a lady should call it, to her skin. A lady doesn't sweat, after all. Heaven forbid.

She peered over him, curious to his work, peeking to the glass and ice. A drink made quickly, a thing to beat the heat. And heat there is! There should be air conditioning. Perhaps by way of a monkey, an exercise bike, ice, and bananas. Quite a project, indeed.

"A penny for your thoughts, Mister B." A smile given before going to work up a drink of her own.
 
He looked up from his work, startled at her appearance. He was a man used to solitude, and being able to slink in and out unnoticed, and on his timing. It went without saying that her appearance would likely deter his plan. As he looked her over, tipping the brim of his hat up, he decided her appearance, while unplanned, was most welcome. In more ways then one., he decided, seeing how her skin seemed to glow in the heat of the day.

Another look to his now much-more filled up notebook. Writing was funny that way. Sometimes you could start off with an idea and only get a few sentences; other times, you could fill up page after page. He closed the book shut, his note not complete; and, in any case, superfluous with his intended target present.

"I don't see a penny." He smiled - almost smirked. Smiling had never been comfortable for him, had always felt forced. It had to come out naturally, and while he felt safe here, his guard was always up. Even around someone as friendly as this. "But I'll tell you them anyways. Or try to."

"I was just thinking of how it's hard to separate perceptions from reality sometimes." That wasn't what he'd written, but it *was* what he'd been thinking about, as he sipped his drink again, pausing a beat to look around. "And that you have a lot of coconuts in here."
 
"Forgive me, but paydays are biweekly, and I already gave away me last two by voicing an opinion. Money wasted there, it seems."

Settling into a slung hammock, rocking slowly as he contemplates the question, watching curiously the entire time. Thought processes are fun to watch. The wheels and cogs, the hampsters running. The response given is slightly curious, her swinging halted as she raises her brows. "Oh? In what ways, Mister B? Or is that going to put me further in debt?" Another smile is given, slipping off the hammock to come pick up the vodka bottle settled beside him. "My reality has been a bitch today, so a little altering in any fashion would be appreciated," she notes as she pours herself a glass, tipping it in acknowledgement of the,man who brought,it to her. "Salud." A quick sip and the glass is set aside.

"As for the coconuts. I have a confusing break in every once in awhile. Someone with free time and too much access to produce." She smirks a touch with that, glancibg to the seemingly never-ending pile in the corner. "And here I thought I had monkeys. I'm not sure which I find more interesting. Suggestions on what to do with these, however, would be greatly appreciated. You're sure I can't send a few off with you?"
 
"I'm not a coconut fan, actually." He smiled warmly at her. "And, just call me B for now. Mister makes me feel older then I am." He took a moment to look out an open window, pondering her earlier question about what exactly he meant.

"It's hard to say exactly what I meant." It was hard for him to explain, especially since he'd had a history of dodging questions and giving evasive answers, but in this case, his answer was genuinely hard to explain. "If people think certain things about you, it doesn't matter what the truth is." He took another sip. "Because, to them, the truth is something different." Another look outside the window. "What is true? What's real?" He let another moment pass before he laughed.

"Sorry, I guess with the kind of day - or week - it seems like you've had, maybe I shouldn't be asking such deep questions of you." He raised his glass slightly. "For you, my thoughts are free, my dear." He gave another long look outside. "I just wanted somewhere to get away from things for a while...this seemed like a good place to do it."
 
"Ugh. Age. No talk of age, please." A wrinkle of her nose, a face made. "I'm quickly approaching a new decade, and not that keen on it being so close. I feel as though not much was achieved with this one. I'd rather not roll into a new one."

She tries to understand, but finds his answer to be more of an addition to the question. Instead, she takes the old standby, a friendly smile and nod. He's confused her. "I suppose we all have our versions of reality, and choose to accept it as best. Though I'm not sure on my own anymore." With a sigh, her drink comes back to fingertips, a sip taken, a few passing thoughts in the process. "Reality is truth, and your truth is your reality. See that? Like that one?" She pauses, staring at her glass. "How strong is this, anyway, B? I'm starting to think I'm done with it. I'm trying to be deep and I know it's not meaning a damned thing."

A dismissive hand is waved at the bad day comment, her head shaking. "Don't worry on it. It was more a frustration on dumb people acting childish. I'm over it. Staying focused on it too long only makes me as bad as them. You may want to be a bit guarded on that free pass to your thoughts, by the way. I can come up with some rather interesting things that I'd like opinions on."

She moves over a bit more, peering out the window to the setting sun over the beach. "It is a nice place to sit and think. Or wander the beach naked." She shrugs, still holding her glass. "Which ever suits your mood."
 
"Don't worry on it. It was more a frustration on dumb people acting childish. I'm over it. Staying focused on it too long only makes me as bad as them. You may want to be a bit guarded on that free pass to your thoughts, by the way. I can come up with some rather interesting things that I'd like opinions on."

For his part, he didn't back down as he looked out at the beach. "It's a free world." He put his drink down. "We all come here to escape." He smirked at her. "You've got a tree house with coconuts, and a radio..." He frowned at it as he turned a couple of dials futilely. "...that seems to have its own idea of working." Another smile. "My thoughts are free to you...just not necessarily 'open'."

He watched as she moved to the window; she seemed graceful as she walked. "It is a nice place to sit and think. Or wander the beach naked." She shrugged, still holding her glass. "Which ever suits your mood."

A cough stifled as he folded his arms. "Just thinking for me at the moment, thank you." He looked down. "I guess I just needed a reminder that we're not the characters we pretend to play sometimes." He looked far off into the distance, seeing the sun setting; when had it gotten so late in the day? "In more ways then one." There was a hint of sadness in his voice, with the ever present wistful smile. "In more ways then one."

"I need to come back here, I think." He tucked his note book under his arm; his work not complete (not ever, if he really thought about it). "It's pleasant." He nodded at her warmly. "And so is the company." He leaned over the growing pile of coconuts, he hefted a couple in his free hand, picking them and feeling them, for weight and shape. "I think I'll actually take one of these, if that's all right." A mischievous smirk. "I might need to knock out a clown on the way home."
 
"My coconuts as weaponry?" A clicking noise, shake of the head, but a smile. "Just don't be knocking anyone out and using that to redirect blame to me. I'm still trying to gain face around here and don't want to be known as The Coconut Mauler or anything."

Standing, a quick hug given to B, a little peck of a kiss on his cheek. "I like affectionate to friends. I've deemed you one." Picking up another coconut and offering it out, she gives another smile. "Do feel free to come back, though. I'm mostly around. Try to be, at least. Some times those little off things raise out of nowhere."
 
"I'll carve my initials on it or something." He wonders at that point if he means his real ones or his fake name - shortened to "B" for her - but realizes that either way, it will likely achieve his objective; which is not to cast blame on the fair maiden who's graciously offered her hospitality to him.

He watched as she stood, accepting her hug and kiss with a smile. "I'm glad you consider me a friend; I would say the same but I hope my small tokens illustrate the same. He backed up to the door, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers gently as he makes his way out.

Not without leaving another gift. A stalk of fresh bananas, with a ribbon and another small note on it:

Thought this might help with your heating problem.

- B
 
"Bananas?"
A befuddled stare is given to the fruits, but tucked away to one of the cabinets above before taking up a towel from another spot. The benefits of setting up your own special place.

Quickly scribbling out a note, in case more visitors come to call in her wanderings, and tacked against the main door.

Gone exploring. By the lagoon. Possible wanderings. Feel free to help yourself, or perhaps come join me. Clothing is optional, mostly frowned upon, at the lagoon.


With that in place, she feels more at ease to make her way to the water, shedding her little floral sarong along the way. Flipflops and sun. What a nice way to spend an afternoon.

Arriving at the water, slowly slipping down into the warm waters, a happy sigh coming out as it engulfs her. So comfortable. Absolutely needed. She could float here for hours.
 
He climbs the tree house to find it empty. I notice the note and smile, looking out the window to see bit of cloths on the ground, no doubt Polly leaving a sort of bread crumb trail to where she was headed. He doesn't follow, despite his natural curiosity aching for him to do so. He simply leaves a blue envelope for Polly.

http://gyazo.com/19b98b05accd2ef4e0710d964aeb5ef1.png?1345680587

Thank you for joining me in my story, I really enjoy your writing and I hope that any errors I may make in my replies are not to distracting. I hope to continue writing with you.

-Spectre

With the note place on the table, he nod and begin to make his leave but not before taking one banana. "Never know when I'll need it" he says before leaving.
 
Strides up the beach, wielding a long machete in one hand while balancing a solar powered Air Conditioning window unit on his shoulder. He stares at the ladder for a moment considering how to come up with his burden. In the end, its a shotput toss that lodges the Solar AC box into the window of the treehouse, then climbs with the machete in his teeth.

I heard somebody had coconuts they didn't know what to do with.

Polly, let's brainstorm!

quickly crafts a third present
 
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