A Shia LaBeouf Christmas
He was awakened by the sound of his vibrating phone skidding across the glass-top coffee table next to the couch where he’d fallen asleep.
“LaBOOF! LaaaBOOOOOF! HAHA–Merry Christmas LaBOOF!”
He heard the sound of the phone being passed to someone else.
He hung up on them. The phone immediately started vibrating again. He turned it off and tossed it back onto the table, kind of enjoying the muffled clunk it made against the thick glass.
He rubbed his eyes. He didn’t recognize the number but he was pretty sure who it was. He’d met this girl at the club the night before, made out with her for a bit, had given her his number, and then her boyfriend showed up. A minor shoving match ensued, the girl–What was her name? Megan? Melanie? He was pretty sure it was an M name–managed to get the boyfriend to leave before it became an actual fight, and after that, the night was a blur. The voices on the other end mispronouncing his name were definitely male and probably drunk; he was almost positive the boyfriend had swiped his girl’s phone and had every intention of calling non-stop at least until he sobered up and maybe after that as well.
So he was going to have to change his number. Again. He rubbed his eyes some more, and–
Wait. Had that guy said “Merry Christmas”?
Huh. It was, wasn’t it?
So he wasn’t going to be changing his number today. But what was he going to do with himself? He didn’t have anyone to spend the day with, and he wasn’t particularly big on Christmas–either the religious or secular versions. It was just a quiet day off for him.
Too quiet–he needed to occupy himself. He could drink; he had a small stash of moonshine he’d swiped from the Lawless set. But he was saving that for a special occasion–ideally, when he had someone (or a bunch of someones) to share it with. Drinking on his own usually didn’t end well. Best case scenario: Some idiots keep prank calling you; worst case scenario: You’re led out of the Walgreens in handcuffs. So he was trying his best not to do that these days.
He could chill and watch A Christmas Story one or two or three times, or maybe find that Yule Log channel, if they had that in L.A. Maybe that was just a New York thing.
He finally decided to go see his mom, and maybe his dad after that. He didn’t have gifts for them, but he decided he’d just tell them he ordered them something but it wasn’t in yet and that’d buy him some time to get something after the fact. He didn’t know what it would be, but it would be something nice. He’d dip into his Transformers cash and splurge a bit.
He grabbed his jacket, keys, and phone. As he headed out the door, he turned the phone back on.
42 MISSED CALLS. 37 NEW VOICEMAILS.
He smiled and shook his head, then placed a call to his mom to let her know he was on his way.
He decided to save the messages; he figured Mom and Dad would get a kick out of listening to them.