Fic: The Swiss Army Man Fanfic Writer Has Left The Building.
My latest SAM fic keeps derailing. The main thing is that the beach house I keep seeing is the one my family rents for two weeks every summer. It’s too damn vivid and is simply wrong. No, I can’t imagine them there.
Fandom: Swiss Army Man
Pairing: Hank/ Manny
Characters: Hank, Manny, Writer's Brother, Writer's Mother
Genre: Crack
Warning: homosexual slurs
Oh, wait, I can imagine them there. They would have to be hanging out with my elderly mother while my brother drinks and cooks and yells, “hey! Dead homo! Get me a beer!”
“I don’t like these people, Hank.”
“Me neither, but they buy Cheese Puffs by the case. And paper towels.”
“Why do you care about paper towels?”
“Trust me, Manny. Just trust me.”
“HEY! DEAD HOMO! BEER! NOW!”
“I don’t trust you, Hank. Can you carry me up to the roof so I can look at the water and pretend we’re not with the writer’s family? That old lady keeps telling me I need a haircut.”
“Where’s the writer, Manny? Hey, I’ll get your damn beer! My friend can’t walk!”
“Crippled dead homo!”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you!”
“Boys, stop all that goddamn swearing! Manny, don’t you feel embarrassed by your hair? Your friend Hank got a haircut, and see how nice he looks?”
“Jesus, Mom, all I’m asking for is a beer! I’m making risotto, I can’t go anywhere! What is that dead homo and his weird buddy doing here, anyway?”
“The writer put us here, and then she left. We can’t go anywhere until she shows up. Come on, Manny, I’m carrying you up to the roof. Fuck this shit.”
“MOM, GET ME MY FUCKING BEER!”
**************
“Hank, can we get out of here?”
“No, Manny, not until the writer gets her shit together and imagines us in a different house.”
“But why can’t she do it now, Hank?”
“You’ll have to ask her. Look, Manny, dolphins!”
Fandom: Swiss Army Man
Pairing: Hank/ Manny
Characters: Hank, Manny, Writer's Brother, Writer's Mother
Genre: Crack
Warning: homosexual slurs
Oh, wait, I can imagine them there. They would have to be hanging out with my elderly mother while my brother drinks and cooks and yells, “hey! Dead homo! Get me a beer!”
“I don’t like these people, Hank.”
“Me neither, but they buy Cheese Puffs by the case. And paper towels.”
“Why do you care about paper towels?”
“Trust me, Manny. Just trust me.”
“HEY! DEAD HOMO! BEER! NOW!”
“I don’t trust you, Hank. Can you carry me up to the roof so I can look at the water and pretend we’re not with the writer’s family? That old lady keeps telling me I need a haircut.”
“Where’s the writer, Manny? Hey, I’ll get your damn beer! My friend can’t walk!”
“Crippled dead homo!”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you!”
“Boys, stop all that goddamn swearing! Manny, don’t you feel embarrassed by your hair? Your friend Hank got a haircut, and see how nice he looks?”
“Jesus, Mom, all I’m asking for is a beer! I’m making risotto, I can’t go anywhere! What is that dead homo and his weird buddy doing here, anyway?”
“The writer put us here, and then she left. We can’t go anywhere until she shows up. Come on, Manny, I’m carrying you up to the roof. Fuck this shit.”
“MOM, GET ME MY FUCKING BEER!”
**************
“Hank, can we get out of here?”
“No, Manny, not until the writer gets her shit together and imagines us in a different house.”
“But why can’t she do it now, Hank?”
“You’ll have to ask her. Look, Manny, dolphins!”