(no subject)
The strangest thing happened to me this morning.
It started out like any other day. I get up, grab my coffee, head into my office. There's a client waiting for me inside, a slimy Plingu demon named Fritz. He wants to discuss a record deal, which to be perfectly honest, just isn't gonna happen. I've heard better singing banshees, let me tell you. Anyhow, he yammered on at me for about a half hour, and eventually, he left with a handshake.
Now regrettably, I should have been wearing gloves when I shook that cat's hand, because he left my palm a little sticky. Disgusting. Does that guy have no tact? I pulled out my kerchief from my pocket and wiped it off, noticing it dried pretty quickly. Or absorbed into my skin, whatever. I shudder to think.
Anyhow, Fritz had left me with a pile of paperwork, mainly a lot of stuff I didn't care for, because like I said, this guy's career wasn't going anywhere from the bottom of the bucket it was sitting in. I'd been sitting in my chair for a better part of an hour when I started to feel a bit headachey. At first I thought it was the caffiene from my morning cup o' joe, but when I started to get dizzy and a bit sweaty, I started to wonder if someone had spiked my latté.
I put my pen down and loosened my tie, rubbed my temples, and tried to get the room to stop spinning. That's when the palm of my hand started to itch like crazy. Feverishly, I scratched at it, hoping to get the sensation to die, but it only got worse. Damn that Fritz. It had to be his slime.
I figured now was as good a time as any to go lie down for a bit, mainly because I was breaking into cold sweats and I felt terribly dizzy. The second I flopped down on my office couch, I passed out...
... Fast forward a couple hours ...
I open my eyes and blink them into focus. At first I'm feeling like I weigh about 400lbs. Slowly, the feeling fades, and I realize the room has stopped spinning and my headache has faded. Thank goodness, I can get back to work. I look over at the clock on my wall, and notice it's just after 11. I was pretty grateful I didn't miss my lunch-date with Freddles, she would have been quite put off with me.
I close my eyes and rub at my temples with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. I continued to rub at my forehead, when it dawned on me. My horns were missing. What the hell?
Confused, I reach up with my other hand and anxiously feel my oddly flat forehead. This isn't right. I'm dreaming. Out of the corner of my eye I take a glimpse of my hands. My very, very ungreen hands. My heart starts racing, I can feel it thudding hard.. within my chest. In a literal panic, I fly off my couch to my mirror, and upon first glimpse of a very different me, I let out an admonishing and horrified scream of absolute terror.
Unable to contain my distress, I stumble, twist in mid-fall, smack my forehead on the edge of my desk, and am out cold.
Good lord, someone please tell me this is all a dream.
((Who the HELL is this strange man in Lorne's office? Open to Fred, then later anyone else who wants to join in to solve this mystery!))
It started out like any other day. I get up, grab my coffee, head into my office. There's a client waiting for me inside, a slimy Plingu demon named Fritz. He wants to discuss a record deal, which to be perfectly honest, just isn't gonna happen. I've heard better singing banshees, let me tell you. Anyhow, he yammered on at me for about a half hour, and eventually, he left with a handshake.
Now regrettably, I should have been wearing gloves when I shook that cat's hand, because he left my palm a little sticky. Disgusting. Does that guy have no tact? I pulled out my kerchief from my pocket and wiped it off, noticing it dried pretty quickly. Or absorbed into my skin, whatever. I shudder to think.
Anyhow, Fritz had left me with a pile of paperwork, mainly a lot of stuff I didn't care for, because like I said, this guy's career wasn't going anywhere from the bottom of the bucket it was sitting in. I'd been sitting in my chair for a better part of an hour when I started to feel a bit headachey. At first I thought it was the caffiene from my morning cup o' joe, but when I started to get dizzy and a bit sweaty, I started to wonder if someone had spiked my latté.
I put my pen down and loosened my tie, rubbed my temples, and tried to get the room to stop spinning. That's when the palm of my hand started to itch like crazy. Feverishly, I scratched at it, hoping to get the sensation to die, but it only got worse. Damn that Fritz. It had to be his slime.
I figured now was as good a time as any to go lie down for a bit, mainly because I was breaking into cold sweats and I felt terribly dizzy. The second I flopped down on my office couch, I passed out...
... Fast forward a couple hours ...
I open my eyes and blink them into focus. At first I'm feeling like I weigh about 400lbs. Slowly, the feeling fades, and I realize the room has stopped spinning and my headache has faded. Thank goodness, I can get back to work. I look over at the clock on my wall, and notice it's just after 11. I was pretty grateful I didn't miss my lunch-date with Freddles, she would have been quite put off with me.
I close my eyes and rub at my temples with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. I continued to rub at my forehead, when it dawned on me. My horns were missing. What the hell?
Confused, I reach up with my other hand and anxiously feel my oddly flat forehead. This isn't right. I'm dreaming. Out of the corner of my eye I take a glimpse of my hands. My very, very ungreen hands. My heart starts racing, I can feel it thudding hard.. within my chest. In a literal panic, I fly off my couch to my mirror, and upon first glimpse of a very different me, I let out an admonishing and horrified scream of absolute terror.
Unable to contain my distress, I stumble, twist in mid-fall, smack my forehead on the edge of my desk, and am out cold.
Good lord, someone please tell me this is all a dream.
((Who the HELL is this strange man in Lorne's office? Open to Fred, then later anyone else who wants to join in to solve this mystery!))