Jetlag or insomnia?
fabulosafred: You really should write a story about the Panda Postal man paying Henry a "visit." You know what I mean.
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Henry hummed idly as he slipped the spatula beneath the half-cooked pancake and flipped it over on the skillet. He'd been craving pancakes since the instant he woke up, and had immediately proceeded to the stove in his pajamas. As he happily thought of the breakfast perfection yet to come, the door buzzer broke into his pancake paradise. He huffed in annoyance, but hurried to the door, hoping whatever it was would be quick so his morning wouldn't be marred any further.
When Henry opened his front door (which was not chained shut in any way, but why would it be, that's just silly HA HA), spatula still in hand, all he could do was stare blankly. For a moment nothing was said, but a growl from his empty stomach prompted him to get this inane session of human interaction over with. "Yes?" he said curtly.
The man outside the door pressed forward, moving into the doorway and compelling Henry to step back. The stranger placed a hand on the door frame and leaned against it, propping his other hand on his hip. He wore a light gray uniform: a short-sleeved collared shirt with half the buttons undone, tight short-shorts, and a baseball cap with a black panda logo. The stitching on the breast of his shirt read "Panda Postal" and the tag beneath deemed him to be "Bob."
"Uh, can I help you?" Henry asked, smiling nervously at the other man's saucy grin.
Bob adjusted his hat and replied smoothly, with a deep voice, "I have a delivery for a Mr. Henry Townshend."
Henry gave a glance to each of Bob's empty hands. "Um, I don't see a package."
Bob laughed lightly, and subtly shifted so that his pelvis was the foremost part of his body. "Look a little lower."
Henry's eyes fell to the floor, but he still saw no wrapped box. Annoyed, and longing for pancake goodness, he frowned at the delivery man and gestured towards him with the greasy spatula. "Look, I'm busy at the moment, so you'll have to come back another time. I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but--"
"You want me to give you a clue?" Bob said, lowering his eyelids.
"I want you to leave me alone," Henry replied, glancing toward the kitchen out of the corner of his eye, imagining the pancake all alone, no butter or syrup to accompany it.
"Aw, what fun is that?" the delivery man replied. "If you don't have much time, I can do express service..."
Henry squinted at the other man, confused. "But... you're already here..."
"Convenience isn't my only specialty," Bob crooned, licking his lips.
"... I really don't think I know what we're talking about." Henry stared at the other man with a blank expression, but then a distinct smell reached his nostrils.
Bob straightened and reached forward as Henry turned his head back to the kitchen. "Allow me to clarify."
"OH MY GOD!" Henry screamed. "PANCAKE!" He slammed the door shut, smashing Bob in the face as he did so, probably breaking his outstretched hand too. But by the time he got to the stove, it was too late. When he dug the spatula under the smoking flapjack, he was horrified at its unwillingness to leave the pan. When he finally rescued it from its burning misery and tossed it onto the coolness of the counter, its blackened outsides were like the sadness in his deprived heart.
"Why..." he said quietly, staring down at the poor charred pancake. Then he fell to his knees, the spatula clattering to the uncaring tile beneath him. "WHYYYYYYYYYYYY???!?"
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:D And that's what dork!Gaia writes at five in the morning.
Not to mention how dork!Gaia's convos about China go at two in the morning:
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Gaia: McDonald's had some good bathrooms. We always searched for a McD's if we were out.
Dan: really? how bizzare
Gaia: It was. o_o
Gaia: Plus they had tarot pie, which turned out to be one of the most delicious things in existence.
Dan: is that... pie made out of fortune telling devices?
Gaia: lol Tarot root is a lot like a potato, only it's purple and delicious. :O
Dan: are you implying that the white potato is not delicious? o.O
Dan: is it not good enough because it's white?
Gaia: It is not as delicious.
Dan: RACIST!
Gaia: I AM A TAROT SUPREMACIST
Dan: I KNEW THOSE PINKO COMMIE BASTARDS WOULD CHANGE YOU
Dan: ...i dont even know you anymore...
Dan: u.u
Gaia: You just have not been converted to the pie side...
Dan: ::emo voice::I'll never join you!
Gaia: *deep spooky voice* But the pie. Piiiiiiieee~~~
Dan: no! Pie killed my father!
Gaia: PIE IS YOUR FATHER
Dan: NOOOOOOOOO!!! ::eats own hand::
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---------------
Henry hummed idly as he slipped the spatula beneath the half-cooked pancake and flipped it over on the skillet. He'd been craving pancakes since the instant he woke up, and had immediately proceeded to the stove in his pajamas. As he happily thought of the breakfast perfection yet to come, the door buzzer broke into his pancake paradise. He huffed in annoyance, but hurried to the door, hoping whatever it was would be quick so his morning wouldn't be marred any further.
When Henry opened his front door (which was not chained shut in any way, but why would it be, that's just silly HA HA), spatula still in hand, all he could do was stare blankly. For a moment nothing was said, but a growl from his empty stomach prompted him to get this inane session of human interaction over with. "Yes?" he said curtly.
The man outside the door pressed forward, moving into the doorway and compelling Henry to step back. The stranger placed a hand on the door frame and leaned against it, propping his other hand on his hip. He wore a light gray uniform: a short-sleeved collared shirt with half the buttons undone, tight short-shorts, and a baseball cap with a black panda logo. The stitching on the breast of his shirt read "Panda Postal" and the tag beneath deemed him to be "Bob."
"Uh, can I help you?" Henry asked, smiling nervously at the other man's saucy grin.
Bob adjusted his hat and replied smoothly, with a deep voice, "I have a delivery for a Mr. Henry Townshend."
Henry gave a glance to each of Bob's empty hands. "Um, I don't see a package."
Bob laughed lightly, and subtly shifted so that his pelvis was the foremost part of his body. "Look a little lower."
Henry's eyes fell to the floor, but he still saw no wrapped box. Annoyed, and longing for pancake goodness, he frowned at the delivery man and gestured towards him with the greasy spatula. "Look, I'm busy at the moment, so you'll have to come back another time. I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but--"
"You want me to give you a clue?" Bob said, lowering his eyelids.
"I want you to leave me alone," Henry replied, glancing toward the kitchen out of the corner of his eye, imagining the pancake all alone, no butter or syrup to accompany it.
"Aw, what fun is that?" the delivery man replied. "If you don't have much time, I can do express service..."
Henry squinted at the other man, confused. "But... you're already here..."
"Convenience isn't my only specialty," Bob crooned, licking his lips.
"... I really don't think I know what we're talking about." Henry stared at the other man with a blank expression, but then a distinct smell reached his nostrils.
Bob straightened and reached forward as Henry turned his head back to the kitchen. "Allow me to clarify."
"OH MY GOD!" Henry screamed. "PANCAKE!" He slammed the door shut, smashing Bob in the face as he did so, probably breaking his outstretched hand too. But by the time he got to the stove, it was too late. When he dug the spatula under the smoking flapjack, he was horrified at its unwillingness to leave the pan. When he finally rescued it from its burning misery and tossed it onto the coolness of the counter, its blackened outsides were like the sadness in his deprived heart.
"Why..." he said quietly, staring down at the poor charred pancake. Then he fell to his knees, the spatula clattering to the uncaring tile beneath him. "WHYYYYYYYYYYYY???!?"
---------------
:D And that's what dork!Gaia writes at five in the morning.
Not to mention how dork!Gaia's convos about China go at two in the morning:
---------------
Gaia: McDonald's had some good bathrooms. We always searched for a McD's if we were out.
Dan: really? how bizzare
Gaia: It was. o_o
Gaia: Plus they had tarot pie, which turned out to be one of the most delicious things in existence.
Dan: is that... pie made out of fortune telling devices?
Gaia: lol Tarot root is a lot like a potato, only it's purple and delicious. :O
Dan: are you implying that the white potato is not delicious? o.O
Dan: is it not good enough because it's white?
Gaia: It is not as delicious.
Dan: RACIST!
Gaia: I AM A TAROT SUPREMACIST
Dan: I KNEW THOSE PINKO COMMIE BASTARDS WOULD CHANGE YOU
Dan: ...i dont even know you anymore...
Dan: u.u
Gaia: You just have not been converted to the pie side...
Dan: ::emo voice::I'll never join you!
Gaia: *deep spooky voice* But the pie. Piiiiiiieee~~~
Dan: no! Pie killed my father!
Gaia: PIE IS YOUR FATHER
Dan: NOOOOOOOOO!!! ::eats own hand::
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