○ 07: i am right, i swear i'm right.
Here's the new serial:
LITTLE BLACK RAINCLOUD
PART THIRTY-TWO
Between then and now, Harold grew up convinced that the Red Hot Chili Peppers song “City of Angels” was written for him alone and often sang it at Tuesday night karaoke: “She sees my good deeds and she kisses me windy; lonely as I am, together we cry.” If he knocked back a few drinks in his time at the bar, he would inevitably be taking a cab home in the rain. He always brought an umbrella, just in case. Because his apartment didn't allow pets, he bought a plant once instead. It died two days later, from too much exposure to the sun and heat; the next day, upon his discovery of the mangled, bone dry corpse, it rained to spite him. Harold spent a time convinced of his superiority, believing himself to be akin to Zeus, god of lightning and thunder, or Storm, the X-Man who commanded the weather. Those delusions of grandeur became somewhat muddled when the weather became more of an inconvenience than a benefit, rain storms ruining already terrible days, making him much later to work every day that he overslept his alarm.
Today was one such day of inconvenience. His misery caused the rain and that water produced resentment and even greater feelings of sadness. Instead of likening himself to Zeus, these days he settled for Eeyore, from Winnie the Pooh, trying to take the whole thing in stride. 'At least Eeyore had better friends,' he thought as he resigned himself to his fate, lowered his briefcase, and began to walk home in the rain.
I hope everyone's alright. There's not a lot that we have here, but we can at least be grateful for our health, right?
[ooc; Eddie is affected. He was raised without the drugs and on a good path. He aspires to be a writer as is too concerned with happiness and optimism to ever care about money and things like that. He's a total pushover and will agree to pretty much any favor (outside of sexual ones), so feel free to have a history of bossing him around. Also, assume his writing is a regular network post that people can choose to look forward to or be totally sick of.]
LITTLE BLACK RAINCLOUD
PART THIRTY-TWO
Between then and now, Harold grew up convinced that the Red Hot Chili Peppers song “City of Angels” was written for him alone and often sang it at Tuesday night karaoke: “She sees my good deeds and she kisses me windy; lonely as I am, together we cry.” If he knocked back a few drinks in his time at the bar, he would inevitably be taking a cab home in the rain. He always brought an umbrella, just in case. Because his apartment didn't allow pets, he bought a plant once instead. It died two days later, from too much exposure to the sun and heat; the next day, upon his discovery of the mangled, bone dry corpse, it rained to spite him. Harold spent a time convinced of his superiority, believing himself to be akin to Zeus, god of lightning and thunder, or Storm, the X-Man who commanded the weather. Those delusions of grandeur became somewhat muddled when the weather became more of an inconvenience than a benefit, rain storms ruining already terrible days, making him much later to work every day that he overslept his alarm.
Today was one such day of inconvenience. His misery caused the rain and that water produced resentment and even greater feelings of sadness. Instead of likening himself to Zeus, these days he settled for Eeyore, from Winnie the Pooh, trying to take the whole thing in stride. 'At least Eeyore had better friends,' he thought as he resigned himself to his fate, lowered his briefcase, and began to walk home in the rain.
I hope everyone's alright. There's not a lot that we have here, but we can at least be grateful for our health, right?
[ooc; Eddie is affected. He was raised without the drugs and on a good path. He aspires to be a writer as is too concerned with happiness and optimism to ever care about money and things like that. He's a total pushover and will agree to pretty much any favor (outside of sexual ones), so feel free to have a history of bossing him around. Also, assume his writing is a regular network post that people can choose to look forward to or be totally sick of.]