215: Wednesday night
The morning's encounter with Isabel had put Jack in a foul mood for most of the day. Sam had briefly lifted it, but the latest influx of Fandom weirdness - which he'd collected on the way up from the garage - had dragged it back down.
He felt a kind of empathy for the trolls, intent on clubbing anything they could reach. It seemed to be mutual, because when he glared at them and said, "Stay," they didn't try to follow him into his room. Weetiny clingy bunnies, however, were not so easily dissuaded.
Jack managed to rid himself of almost all of them by the simple expedient of picking them up by the scruff of the neck, shaking them off his hand into a box, closing it tight and shoving it into the hallway. The trolls eyed it speculatively, and he said, "Have at it, boys," before shutting the door firmly on whatever chaos might ensue.
But one bunny was persistent. It could, in fact, be the poster child for weetiny things that clung. No matter what, it evaded his attempts to snare it, finally clinging to the middle of his back where he couldn't reach. As a last ditch measure, he collapsed into the chair, but it scrambled up to cling to the back of his neck.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Fine."
Its only response was to twitch its nose and cling tighter and, when he turned on the TV, peer around his neck.
Scowling, he told it, "We watch what I want. I'm not changing the channel if you don't like it."
He felt a kind of empathy for the trolls, intent on clubbing anything they could reach. It seemed to be mutual, because when he glared at them and said, "Stay," they didn't try to follow him into his room. Weetiny clingy bunnies, however, were not so easily dissuaded.
Jack managed to rid himself of almost all of them by the simple expedient of picking them up by the scruff of the neck, shaking them off his hand into a box, closing it tight and shoving it into the hallway. The trolls eyed it speculatively, and he said, "Have at it, boys," before shutting the door firmly on whatever chaos might ensue.
But one bunny was persistent. It could, in fact, be the poster child for weetiny things that clung. No matter what, it evaded his attempts to snare it, finally clinging to the middle of his back where he couldn't reach. As a last ditch measure, he collapsed into the chair, but it scrambled up to cling to the back of his neck.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Fine."
Its only response was to twitch its nose and cling tighter and, when he turned on the TV, peer around his neck.
Scowling, he told it, "We watch what I want. I'm not changing the channel if you don't like it."