Post by Jack of Blades on Oct 21, 2006 10:47:59 GMT -5
Now unless Jesper had not calculated the risk from last time, it seemed that he was continuing to feed the heater with popcorn. I have been observing his little rendezvouses to the basement by way of the kitchen each time getting a bag of that theatre treat consisting of salt and kernels. I, like any madman with little concern for his physical state in a piece of cinema from the terror genre, decided to investigate the basement.
The door swings open with only enough light to permeate the musk of the door as opposed to showing me the necessary path. Navigating the stairs with a sporadic creek reacting to my steps, I finally reach the cold floor. I begin to move towards the heating machine.
Like anybody's basement, my cold place acts as a museum for all my failed ventures. Much like how the equipment of fads, like guitars or still-under-construction dollhouses, is expected to be found in the usual basement, I pass those momentary items prevalent to my attempts. DIY Voodoo to the plans for 'Project Mayhem' to the temporary housing for Bin Laden to the Chinese Water Torture gear...with victim still attached.
After realising Elliot and giving him money for a bus home, I felt comfortable that he would never again make an attempt to steal my newspaper. I moved onwards through the basement to see the true cause for the shortage of Butterkist snacks. There she was. A leprachaun.
Even though she did not lead me to any pot of desirable materials, we built a relationship rather quickly. She told me that we were already familiar with each other's person and that she was the product of Skyler's ventures into Harleen for Paramours. It was that or she was the product of a loving, intense relationship. I truly fail to correct the facts. Either way, it appears as if her patriarch had failed to see things from her perspective and that she had decided to find residence at my home.
From behind me, I could tell that either Jesper or Osama had approached our little session. Deciding it was the latter, I addressed him to which he asked if I was concerned noting the fact I was chewing my fingernail with a glove on. 'Boss, if you want I can take care of her and you can go back to that doll of Seth,' he stated. I shook my head and said that it wasn't that. 'I'm just thinking of something to say. I used the child labour to Chinese slave traders a few weeks back.'
Somewhat upset at my unbeing conservative of my material, I failed to recognise Jesper's conversation. I did manage to catch the last part of advice in that I should ask her if she'd like something.
'Do you want something I can offer you?' I ask.
'Well, no offence to Jesper' she says waving at him, 'but I could do with something else but popcorn to eat.'
I nod. 'What do you people eat, girl?'
'People' she enquires politely.
'What's the word, children? I think that's right. You eat nails?'
'Nails?'
'As in the kind of things used to hammer things to other things. Metallic with often spiral constructs?' I reaffirm the denotation of nails.
She says she'd like a 'sandwich.' She says that "When I was at her home, she gave me a cheese sandwich and now she's at mine, I'm giving her a cheese sandwich." I nod.
The door swings open with only enough light to permeate the musk of the door as opposed to showing me the necessary path. Navigating the stairs with a sporadic creek reacting to my steps, I finally reach the cold floor. I begin to move towards the heating machine.
Like anybody's basement, my cold place acts as a museum for all my failed ventures. Much like how the equipment of fads, like guitars or still-under-construction dollhouses, is expected to be found in the usual basement, I pass those momentary items prevalent to my attempts. DIY Voodoo to the plans for 'Project Mayhem' to the temporary housing for Bin Laden to the Chinese Water Torture gear...with victim still attached.
After realising Elliot and giving him money for a bus home, I felt comfortable that he would never again make an attempt to steal my newspaper. I moved onwards through the basement to see the true cause for the shortage of Butterkist snacks. There she was. A leprachaun.
Even though she did not lead me to any pot of desirable materials, we built a relationship rather quickly. She told me that we were already familiar with each other's person and that she was the product of Skyler's ventures into Harleen for Paramours. It was that or she was the product of a loving, intense relationship. I truly fail to correct the facts. Either way, it appears as if her patriarch had failed to see things from her perspective and that she had decided to find residence at my home.
From behind me, I could tell that either Jesper or Osama had approached our little session. Deciding it was the latter, I addressed him to which he asked if I was concerned noting the fact I was chewing my fingernail with a glove on. 'Boss, if you want I can take care of her and you can go back to that doll of Seth,' he stated. I shook my head and said that it wasn't that. 'I'm just thinking of something to say. I used the child labour to Chinese slave traders a few weeks back.'
Somewhat upset at my unbeing conservative of my material, I failed to recognise Jesper's conversation. I did manage to catch the last part of advice in that I should ask her if she'd like something.
'Do you want something I can offer you?' I ask.
'Well, no offence to Jesper' she says waving at him, 'but I could do with something else but popcorn to eat.'
I nod. 'What do you people eat, girl?'
'People' she enquires politely.
'What's the word, children? I think that's right. You eat nails?'
'Nails?'
'As in the kind of things used to hammer things to other things. Metallic with often spiral constructs?' I reaffirm the denotation of nails.
She says she'd like a 'sandwich.' She says that "When I was at her home, she gave me a cheese sandwich and now she's at mine, I'm giving her a cheese sandwich." I nod.
