Trapped in a snowglobe
[In response to this and this.]
---
It's a snowglobe.
It's an actual snowglobe.
If this wasn't so seriously screwed up Shawn might have even laughed. He checks his pulse, his breath, his heartbeat, takes a good long look at every vein he can find, excluding every possibility whatsoever that he has been drugged mindless. That only leaves two possibilities: Either he has lost his mind or he is trapped in a freaking snowglobe.
Just... without the snow. And the water.
Either that or he has some weird multidimensional perception going on that lets him breath underwater and still feel like there's air around him. Maybe that's it. Or maybe not, since that would suck, given the fact this his surrounding is supposed to be some kind of beach. Snow would probably look quite strange, now that he thinks about it.
As weird as something like snow on a beach can look to you when you're trapped in a freaking snowglobe.
There's a sign, Welcome to Florida. That about kills him. It reminds him of the time his dad moved to Miami and it really doesn't improve his mood. At all. 24 hours. That's what that stupid freak had told him before the fake psychic had found himself in this mess. Where was Jack Bauer when you needed him? Or, even more important... what would Mr. T do?!
Of course Shawn has tried everything by now, banging his fists against the glass, kicking, yelling, trying to move the thing which only rewards him with a seriously annoying pain in his left shoulder.
That, and it seriously affronts his dignity (because, yes, you still have dignity in a snowglobe). Since he doesn't know what Mr. T would do he decides he will just sleep until this stupid nonesense is over and not give anyone the satisfaction of actually freaking out.
Shawn slumps into the sand and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he's in a stupid SNOWGLOBE which alone is enough to fry his brain. Nah, don't think of it. Don't think of what this is, or all the images already burned into your head. This is just like the beach, he keeps telling himself, just like the beach. He just needs to chill.
That actually helps. He makes a whole lot of sixteen minutes until he jumps up again.
It's not the snowglobe that ticks him off, he's not scared or anything, because there is nothing scary about a snowglobe, not unless you're a little girl called Carline. He's just bored, because he can't go anywhere. And Shawn hates not being able to go anywhere. He hates being trapped.
This reminds him of the car incident, of his dad, arresting him, putting him into that cell, just because he felt like Shawn needed it and apparently Lassy decided that he needed this because Shawn knows Lassy is behind this and for the first time in his life this analogy really makes him hate the detective.
He starts pacing, biting his lower lip, feeling like a caged animal. He already knows every freaking detail in this prison, even knows by now that this snowglobe probably has once fallen from a shelf or anything because he can make out the small scratch on the glass. He already knows how many coconuts, how many stones, how many freaking blades of grass. Another hour and he might know how many grains of sand! Shawn rubs his eyes, angry, frustrated, because he needs to see more, can't have his space limited to such a ridicilous size.
This is great. It's not even been an hour and he's already going crazy.
He takes a stick and writes I'm a celebrity... get me out of here! into the sand. Even though that show sucked.
It takes a lot to make Shawn Spencer seriously angry.
This here does.
---
It's a snowglobe.
It's an actual snowglobe.
If this wasn't so seriously screwed up Shawn might have even laughed. He checks his pulse, his breath, his heartbeat, takes a good long look at every vein he can find, excluding every possibility whatsoever that he has been drugged mindless. That only leaves two possibilities: Either he has lost his mind or he is trapped in a freaking snowglobe.
Just... without the snow. And the water.
Either that or he has some weird multidimensional perception going on that lets him breath underwater and still feel like there's air around him. Maybe that's it. Or maybe not, since that would suck, given the fact this his surrounding is supposed to be some kind of beach. Snow would probably look quite strange, now that he thinks about it.
As weird as something like snow on a beach can look to you when you're trapped in a freaking snowglobe.
There's a sign, Welcome to Florida. That about kills him. It reminds him of the time his dad moved to Miami and it really doesn't improve his mood. At all. 24 hours. That's what that stupid freak had told him before the fake psychic had found himself in this mess. Where was Jack Bauer when you needed him? Or, even more important... what would Mr. T do?!
Of course Shawn has tried everything by now, banging his fists against the glass, kicking, yelling, trying to move the thing which only rewards him with a seriously annoying pain in his left shoulder.
That, and it seriously affronts his dignity (because, yes, you still have dignity in a snowglobe). Since he doesn't know what Mr. T would do he decides he will just sleep until this stupid nonesense is over and not give anyone the satisfaction of actually freaking out.
Shawn slumps into the sand and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he's in a stupid SNOWGLOBE which alone is enough to fry his brain. Nah, don't think of it. Don't think of what this is, or all the images already burned into your head. This is just like the beach, he keeps telling himself, just like the beach. He just needs to chill.
That actually helps. He makes a whole lot of sixteen minutes until he jumps up again.
It's not the snowglobe that ticks him off, he's not scared or anything, because there is nothing scary about a snowglobe, not unless you're a little girl called Carline. He's just bored, because he can't go anywhere. And Shawn hates not being able to go anywhere. He hates being trapped.
This reminds him of the car incident, of his dad, arresting him, putting him into that cell, just because he felt like Shawn needed it and apparently Lassy decided that he needed this because Shawn knows Lassy is behind this and for the first time in his life this analogy really makes him hate the detective.
He starts pacing, biting his lower lip, feeling like a caged animal. He already knows every freaking detail in this prison, even knows by now that this snowglobe probably has once fallen from a shelf or anything because he can make out the small scratch on the glass. He already knows how many coconuts, how many stones, how many freaking blades of grass. Another hour and he might know how many grains of sand! Shawn rubs his eyes, angry, frustrated, because he needs to see more, can't have his space limited to such a ridicilous size.
This is great. It's not even been an hour and he's already going crazy.
He takes a stick and writes I'm a celebrity... get me out of here! into the sand. Even though that show sucked.
It takes a lot to make Shawn Spencer seriously angry.
This here does.