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bohemian_markIt had been a long day in Santa Fe. Everyone packing, making sure that all the film's in someone or another's suitcase, Kyle lamenting the poor Troll costumes' fate of being stuck around the cameras as packing material, and Jon losing a couple reels of film no less than four times. Eventually, everyone was on the plane.
---
"God, I never thought I'd be back here." Kyle twirled around a lightpole on eleventh as the entire crew trudged up the street.
"Must you be so excited all the time?" Adam looked over his shoulder.
"Of course. I have to make up for Roger's angst, and the stick up your ass."
Joanne just cracked up.
---
Before going in, Aly hugged her apartment door. "Missed you, luv."
Eric snickered, going into the room next door.
From another room, a voice called out. "I think it missed you too. Just watch out. I have an ant infestation."
"Maaaaaaaaaaaark!"
---
Finally, Mark and Roger got to their room, Roger collapsing on the couch, as Mark put things on his desk. Pulling out his guitar, Roger started to tune.
With a smirk, Mark pulled out his camera.
First shot Roger, tuning the Fender guitar he just got off of the plane.
Roger looked up. "This won't tune."
So we hear. He's just coming back from two months in Santa Fe.
"Are you talkin' to me?"
Not at all.
Mark put down his camera, and went over to the fire escape, opening the window, and leaning over the rail, grinning at the people on the street. Without even thinking, he calls out to no one in particular: "We're back, New York City!"
---
"God, I never thought I'd be back here." Kyle twirled around a lightpole on eleventh as the entire crew trudged up the street.
"Must you be so excited all the time?" Adam looked over his shoulder.
"Of course. I have to make up for Roger's angst, and the stick up your ass."
Joanne just cracked up.
---
Before going in, Aly hugged her apartment door. "Missed you, luv."
Eric snickered, going into the room next door.
From another room, a voice called out. "I think it missed you too. Just watch out. I have an ant infestation."
"Maaaaaaaaaaaark!"
---
Finally, Mark and Roger got to their room, Roger collapsing on the couch, as Mark put things on his desk. Pulling out his guitar, Roger started to tune.
With a smirk, Mark pulled out his camera.
First shot Roger, tuning the Fender guitar he just got off of the plane.
Roger looked up. "This won't tune."
So we hear. He's just coming back from two months in Santa Fe.
"Are you talkin' to me?"
Not at all.
Mark put down his camera, and went over to the fire escape, opening the window, and leaning over the rail, grinning at the people on the street. Without even thinking, he calls out to no one in particular: "We're back, New York City!"
