By Marianne Mancusi
If Chrissie Hayward knew that morning she'd be going again in time to rescue her loopy coworker Kat, she'd have worn larger footwear. Doubly so if she'd anticipated to satisfy her real love. in line with the mysterious gypsy, Chrissie was once the "gentle soul who could tame an outlaw's thirst for revenge" -- aka the genuine Robin Hood. So how come the man used to be one of these dud? LOST...IN SHERWOOD woodland? No, Robin of Locksley used to be no Prince captivating. And the half approximately robbing the wealthy to feed the terrible? He did not get the memo. in reality, all of the man looked as if it would do was once mope. (And he and his not-so-merry males inspiration Chrissie used to be a boy. yes, she wasn't stacked, yet still!) still, he used to be unswerving and courageous and good-looking as sin. If Chrissie coudl simply get him with the software, she might correct his wagon and get those boyz'n the wooden to be heroes of the area rather than twerps in tights. merely then may this prince of thieves develop into king of her middle.
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Extra resources for A Hoboken Hipster in Sherwood Forest
The one who cast the spell on me to send me back in time to begin with. Just go and tell her that Lancelot, Guenevere and I are stuck in the twenty-second century and we need to know how to get back. " I roll my eyes. "Let me get this straight. " "No way. " Even through the static I can hear my coworker's anguish. " However deranged she sounds, I can tell she seriously believes everything she's saying. Which means she's not joking. She's simply snapped. "Maybe you've had too much sun," I suggest in my gentlest voice.
And I'm pretty nimble on narrow surfaces like that log. Maybe I have a chance to take him. And I do need to cross the river.... "All right, I accept your challenge," I say. " Heh heh, the Beavis and Butthead voices in my head chuckle. She wants his staff. The man tosses the long piece of wood at me, and I almost fall backwards under its weight. It's a little heavier than I'd thought. And with this guy outweighing me by about seventy pounds he definitely has the advantage. But I'm determined not to let him get the best of me.
Then he tilts his bow skyward and affixes an arrow with some sort of circular barrel attached to its tip. I stop to watch, intrigued. He sends the arrow skyward and it makes a whistling noise that echoes through the forest. So that's what people did before Nextels. Far less annoying, for sure. Can you hear my arrow now? Robin nods to Much, then pulls a long white rag from his sack and turns to me. "I am afraid I must blindfold you for the remainder of the journey," he says apologetically. " I say, staring at the nasty, stained piece of cloth.
A Hoboken Hipster in Sherwood Forest by Marianne Mancusi