Sticky and dripping with marshmallowy-scented white gooey stuff from his latest game of Jenga with Sirius, Homsar blibbled into the Great Hall, his bowler hat turning jaunty 360s.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! Smells like bean spirit!" he noted loudly to anyone who was listening.
Every doll had a sweet tooth. This marshmallow man smelled positively scrumptious to Primavera, his weird appearance and Muppety voice notwithstanding.
Kurama was dumbfounded by the new arrival, so quietly stared at it. It didn't look like a food, as prima had suggested, more like a Muppet extra from Ghostbusters that had been slimed by the Stay-Puft marshmallow man.
Homsar returned Kurama's stare with his beady eyes. His yawning cavern of a mouth opened and closed, and then he blibbled closer to Primavera, so that he was just one Jenga block away from her.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! I'm one broccoli away from an entire food group!" he replied too loudly.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! It's a good time for my great taste!" he agreed. His bowler hat shot up into the air, giving his lack of visible arms room to reach under it and pull out an imp vial (which, of course, appeared to float down, due to, well, THE LACK OF VISIBLE ARMS, DUH). The imp tipped towards his shirt, allowing some of the remaining goo to flow into the vial. The vial then appeared to float its way to Primavera.
If she read the label, she would see the words "Jenga Moon" on it.
Never had a more appropriate question been asked of Homsar.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! I'm the Haddiman!" Better than the goddamn Batman! "I'm a trendy totebag! I'm the pride of the peaches! I'm a song from the sixties! I'm just a friendly reminder! I'm the son of a chipwich! I'm the captain of the gravy train! I'm the master of my lo mein!"
He could have gone on, but like Batman, he decided to keep some mystery about him. As such, he simply ended with a long, loud "Kashoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
Homsar was ... a lot of things. Primavera determined she was up to the challenge! Setting aside the vial of Jenga Moon, she went to work finding BPAL that could reflect each and every aspect of Homsar's shining personality:
Privilege, to reflect his trendy totebag side. La Vague, for his peachy pride. White Rabbit, because he was a song from the sixties. Sitting Up With A Sick Friend for his self-identification as a friendly reminder. The chocolate of Candy Butcher was as close as she could get to a son of a chipwich. Drink Me for captaincy of the gravy train and Hungry Ghost Moon for mastery of lo mein finished off the Homsarian bouquet.
She offered him the clutch of imps. "I don't really know what will happen if you try layering them all."
One by one, the vials appeared to open, their caps twisted off by a seeming lack of visible arms. And one by one, the vials tipped themselves over and dumped themselves onto Homsar's bowler hat. The oils, in their various shades of beige and brown, spilled off the brim of the hat, dripping down Homsar's C-shaped face and onto his shirt, staining the white globs from the Jenga game.
When all was said and done, Homsar gave off quite an interesting aroma. At first, the fragrance was a bit vague...like pencil shavings, perhaps. But a deeper whiff would reveal the true bouquet: a woody scent that was the unmistakable odor of a Jenga block. With a hint of marshmallow.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! I'm boasting in my own juices!" he said gleefully. His joy at smelling like the most important item in the world (with the Jeffersons coming in at a close second, of course) overwhelmed him, and his entire body lifted up in the air and did a 360 around his head.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! Smells like bean spirit!" he noted loudly to anyone who was listening.
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"Are you dessert?" she inquired pertly of Homsar.
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"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! I'm one broccoli away from an entire food group!" he replied too loudly.
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She swiped a finger through a splotch of white goo on the blue Homsar shirt, and sucked it clean.
"Wow," she breathed. "Far out."
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If she read the label, she would see the words "Jenga Moon" on it.
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She stared at Homsar, uncomprehending, the slippery vial cradled in her hands.
"Who are you?"
(Had he answered I'm the goddamn Batman she would not have been surprised.)
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"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! I'm the Haddiman!" Better than the goddamn Batman! "I'm a trendy totebag! I'm the pride of the peaches! I'm a song from the sixties! I'm just a friendly reminder! I'm the son of a chipwich! I'm the captain of the gravy train! I'm the master of my lo mein!"
He could have gone on, but like Batman, he decided to keep some mystery about him. As such, he simply ended with a long, loud "Kashoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
Reply
Privilege, to reflect his trendy totebag side.
La Vague, for his peachy pride.
White Rabbit, because he was a song from the sixties.
Sitting Up With A Sick Friend
for his self-identification as a friendly reminder.
The chocolate of Candy Butcher was as close as she could get to a son of a chipwich.
Drink Me for captaincy of the gravy train and Hungry Ghost Moon for mastery of lo mein finished off the Homsarian bouquet.
She offered him the clutch of imps. "I don't really know what will happen if you try layering them all."
Reply
When all was said and done, Homsar gave off quite an interesting aroma. At first, the fragrance was a bit vague...like pencil shavings, perhaps. But a deeper whiff would reveal the true bouquet: a woody scent that was the unmistakable odor of a Jenga block. With a hint of marshmallow.
"DaaaAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAAA! I'm boasting in my own juices!" he said gleefully. His joy at smelling like the most important item in the world (with the Jeffersons coming in at a close second, of course) overwhelmed him, and his entire body lifted up in the air and did a 360 around his head.
Reply
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