something smelly this way comes (OPEN)
Characters: Slo-bo and some poor, unfortunate soulsYOU!
Setting/Location: The south towers. Soemone's room. (YOURS??)
Date & Time: Day 2, any time you please!
Warnings: Terrifyin' abuse o'th'apostrophe
Summary: I'm sorry. Is this your room? Well, TOO BAD. (Slo-bo finds rooms, he kicks the door open, and he sits wherever he wishes and actual roomers be damned)
As far as Slo-bo was concerned, this was still the same, stupid adventure that started when he found himself faceplanting hard metal and linoleum, the dry, uninterested prattle of some stupid machine. It certainly was a far cry from the City, but if Slo-bo was distressed, it didn't show. In all honesty, he invited the change; everyone was just so fraggin' uptight and boring back in serious business Cityland. At least here people had the decency to be hilarious in their confusion.
The ever-annoying, underlying fear for his person gave his stomach a bit of a twirl when he first set eyes on that lumbering monster charged with hauling him and however many hundreds more across the countryside. The ever-loved, overbearing bravado, however, pasted a yellowy smirk on his face at the sight. It would be interesting to see if he could kill it.
And then they took his chain. Someone got a black eye, and it wasn't Slo-bo. Feh, I don' need it t'beatchya'll into th'dirt anyhow.
Superblunder was off being a healthy, social teenager somewhere, which meant that there was no one familiar around to complain at. It sliced his schedule pretty much to shreds, but apparently he had a room. Following the stairs to the south tower, he recalled the number and...immediately disregarded it as he came to the long row of rooms. He sniffed. Not everyone was an earthman on this pony ride. The ever-annoying, underlying fear for his person didn't like that; the ever-loved overbearing bravado, however, couldn't wait to get started.
Some unfortunate room left their door open just a hair. Slo-bo only had to lightly tap it to expose the interior: he kicked it and let the door swing open with a loud SLAM! instead. Such sounds were more satisfying.
Inhabited or not, he meandered inside and flopped into a chair, stretching. It'd been a long, long time since he'd showered, and it almost quite literally showed. He contemplated peeling his shoes off and letting his crusty toes air out: his human friends always seemed so repulsed. It was entertaining.
Setting/Location: The south towers. Soemone's room. (YOURS??)
Date & Time: Day 2, any time you please!
Warnings: Terrifyin' abuse o'th'apostrophe
Summary: I'm sorry. Is this your room? Well, TOO BAD. (Slo-bo finds rooms, he kicks the door open, and he sits wherever he wishes and actual roomers be damned)
As far as Slo-bo was concerned, this was still the same, stupid adventure that started when he found himself faceplanting hard metal and linoleum, the dry, uninterested prattle of some stupid machine. It certainly was a far cry from the City, but if Slo-bo was distressed, it didn't show. In all honesty, he invited the change; everyone was just so fraggin' uptight and boring back in serious business Cityland. At least here people had the decency to be hilarious in their confusion.
The ever-annoying, underlying fear for his person gave his stomach a bit of a twirl when he first set eyes on that lumbering monster charged with hauling him and however many hundreds more across the countryside. The ever-loved, overbearing bravado, however, pasted a yellowy smirk on his face at the sight. It would be interesting to see if he could kill it.
And then they took his chain. Someone got a black eye, and it wasn't Slo-bo. Feh, I don' need it t'beatchya'll into th'dirt anyhow.
Superblunder was off being a healthy, social teenager somewhere, which meant that there was no one familiar around to complain at. It sliced his schedule pretty much to shreds, but apparently he had a room. Following the stairs to the south tower, he recalled the number and...immediately disregarded it as he came to the long row of rooms. He sniffed. Not everyone was an earthman on this pony ride. The ever-annoying, underlying fear for his person didn't like that; the ever-loved overbearing bravado, however, couldn't wait to get started.
Some unfortunate room left their door open just a hair. Slo-bo only had to lightly tap it to expose the interior: he kicked it and let the door swing open with a loud SLAM! instead. Such sounds were more satisfying.
Inhabited or not, he meandered inside and flopped into a chair, stretching. It'd been a long, long time since he'd showered, and it almost quite literally showed. He contemplated peeling his shoes off and letting his crusty toes air out: his human friends always seemed so repulsed. It was entertaining.