eight | stupid holiday nonsense... bull

[strike_you_out]

[Phone |  The telephone cord stretches from the kitchen all the way to the first step outside the door on the side of the house where, hopefully, this call will go unheard by other members of the household. "Christmas" and "gift-giving" are still very strange concepts in Slugger's mind.]


What do--

... ...

[Dammit, why is he even--  

Just. Spits it out.]    ...What do "mothers" like?


[Action |  While he ponders this, Slugger will be out shoveling snow off the driveway. It may look like a chore but he's actually doing this to uncover the icy death-trap and personal skating rink he created last week (which covers the entire driveway, the side-walk in front, and part of the street.)

And once the driveway is cleared, he'll be skidding up and down it -- he really does miss his skates. No, he does not care that he's about to cross into the direct trajectory of that oncoming vehicle.

SIDE-NOTE: One Edward Nigma may find that his socks have mysteriously gone missing...]

Comments

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

I don't know! The lasergun was a friggin' afterthought to begin with! I'm more or less trying to keep FROM killing people, because they won't stay dead and aside from you and robo-witch, I don't have any real reason to be pissed at them most of the time.

Jesus. Happy now, jerkface?

[strike-you-out.livejournal.com]

...

[Sorry, were you saying something, Pokey? He sort of dropped the phone into the snow. Just kidding, he heard (most of) your rant.

Anyway, OUT OF NOWHERE]

Thanks... For the advice. About the gift?
[Remember? Before he led you off on that tangent?]

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

I...you...

[God, he hates you, Slugger.]

Yeah. You're welcome.