(no subject)
Jason Blood has a kink in his neck.
He laboriously removes his coat from his aching form and sets his keys down in his lonely Gotham home. There are four messages on his machine. Promising.
Four: "Um... Professor Blood, this is Mark from History 506. I know the paper was due Wednesday, but my mother is very sick and..." DELETE.
"Liar", he mutters.
Three: "Hey Jason! It's Harry. I'm low on cash, so come to poker tomorrow so I can help myself to some of yours. I won’t take 'no' for an answer." SAVED.
Two: "Mr. Blood, this is Jake Jacobson from the hit show Amazing Truths. We're doing a segment on pet psychics and a class action suit by gerbil owners. We would love to do an interview with a famed occultist..." DELETE.
"I really should change my number."
One:"... *click*"
Jason's eyes widen. It could be her. He furiously checks his caller ID for anything from the "Mark" household. His heart slides into his stomach when he finds the number belongs to a solicitor.
He pours himself a generous neat whiskey and takes a seat at his bar (which unfortunately faces a large mirror). He begins to rub the tense muscles knotted at the nape of his neck.
"Did you think that she would call?
It appears that you really are that stupid,
And to escape from things honest and lucid,
You've reached for your favor'd cure-all."
"I don't really think it's any of your business." He takes a large gulp and avoids looking his antagonist.
His demon shrugs and smirks at the prospect of opening old wounds.
"Not in any traditional sense.
Are your other responsibilities suffering,
At the cost of your cherished hobby of imbibing?
Did you notice? Or are you too dense?"
Jason scowls and refills his glass. "Shouldn't you be conquering hell or actively making my life worse?"
The needling continues.
"So, how long has it been since she tossed out our darling savior?
Yet you insist on finding every way to be rejected
To help nurture your persistent sense of feeling dejected.
Try calling her drunk again-- that will win fair Glenda's favor."
Jason slams down his empty glass and slurs, "That's it!"
Jason stumbles out of his chair and down a dark hallway to his bedroom. A loud *THUMP* resonates throughout the house and signifies that Jason has lain down for the evening- a meter short of his bed.
As his demon returns to Hell, he mutters, "Pathetic", and disappears from the mirror.
Jason Blood will wake up tomorrow with a kink in his neck.
He laboriously removes his coat from his aching form and sets his keys down in his lonely Gotham home. There are four messages on his machine. Promising.
Four: "Um... Professor Blood, this is Mark from History 506. I know the paper was due Wednesday, but my mother is very sick and..." DELETE.
"Liar", he mutters.
Three: "Hey Jason! It's Harry. I'm low on cash, so come to poker tomorrow so I can help myself to some of yours. I won’t take 'no' for an answer." SAVED.
Two: "Mr. Blood, this is Jake Jacobson from the hit show Amazing Truths. We're doing a segment on pet psychics and a class action suit by gerbil owners. We would love to do an interview with a famed occultist..." DELETE.
"I really should change my number."
One:"... *click*"
Jason's eyes widen. It could be her. He furiously checks his caller ID for anything from the "Mark" household. His heart slides into his stomach when he finds the number belongs to a solicitor.
He pours himself a generous neat whiskey and takes a seat at his bar (which unfortunately faces a large mirror). He begins to rub the tense muscles knotted at the nape of his neck.
"Did you think that she would call?
It appears that you really are that stupid,
And to escape from things honest and lucid,
You've reached for your favor'd cure-all."
"I don't really think it's any of your business." He takes a large gulp and avoids looking his antagonist.
His demon shrugs and smirks at the prospect of opening old wounds.
"Not in any traditional sense.
Are your other responsibilities suffering,
At the cost of your cherished hobby of imbibing?
Did you notice? Or are you too dense?"
Jason scowls and refills his glass. "Shouldn't you be conquering hell or actively making my life worse?"
The needling continues.
"So, how long has it been since she tossed out our darling savior?
Yet you insist on finding every way to be rejected
To help nurture your persistent sense of feeling dejected.
Try calling her drunk again-- that will win fair Glenda's favor."
Jason slams down his empty glass and slurs, "That's it!"
Jason stumbles out of his chair and down a dark hallway to his bedroom. A loud *THUMP* resonates throughout the house and signifies that Jason has lain down for the evening- a meter short of his bed.
As his demon returns to Hell, he mutters, "Pathetic", and disappears from the mirror.
Jason Blood will wake up tomorrow with a kink in his neck.