Application: Calvin and Hobbes
A cardboard box comes flying out of thin air, and lands on the pavement with a whumph, sending its occupants tumbling out. The first, a little boy with messy yellow hair, gets to his feet and dusts off the knees of his black shorts, which reach almost to the tops of his sneakers. He looks to be about six years old, and wears a red-and-black striped t-shirt and, at the moment, scuba goggles. He pushes these up onto his forehead and, with an aggrieved expression, lifts the cardboard box from off of his companion.
"Ow," comments the tiger, lying sprawled on his back. After a moment, he sits up and rubs the back of his head. "Just once, I'd like to have a non-crash landing."
"Well, how was I supposed to know that the gravitron thrusters would cut out over Montana? If that 747 hadn't...is that my sandwich you're unwrapping?"
"I need something to soothe my nerves. Anyway, they get soggy if you leave...aachkpth!" At the first bite, Hobbes peers incredulously at the sandwich in question and makes a face. He seems to be having a little difficulty opening his mouth. "What ith thith?"
"Honey, banana and marshmallow. Well, I didn't make it for you, tuna breath, I...Hey! Hey, we're here!" Calvin lets go of the box, and spreads his arms wide as he runs around in a dizzy circle. "Disneyland! Oh boy oh boy oh boy! I want a mickey hat and a frozen lemonade and a hamburger and an ice cream and fudge, and then I want to go on a fast and jolting ride designed to disorient and induce nausea..."
Catches sight of Mickey, and stops. "Oh. Hi."
Hobbes blinks at the Mouse, and after a moment leans over to whisper to Calvin, "Okay, you're right, the pants aren't cool."
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
"Calvin! And this is Hobbes."
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
"Well, it was to come here. See, Dad said that Disneyland was an example of exploitative consumerism at its worst, and he liked his vacations to involve authentic experiences rather than cheap manipulation and empty calories."
"So, I invented a hyperspeed cruiser so Hobbes and I could come here ourselves." He straightens one of the flaps of the cardboard box with pride. "But now that we're here, I guess I need a new quest? Unless..."
Calvin, the bold knight, stands at the gates of the ensorcelled kingdom. His helm is black as night, and his sword gleams, polished by the blood of fallen enemies. He is the knight with no quest, in search only of another foe to conquer...
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
This is a sufficiently interesting question to jerk Calvin's attention back. "A flamethrower! And, um. Wings! And retractable claws!...no, a prehensile tail!...or...A trillion billion dollars, my own space shuttle, and a private continent."
"A sandwich that wouldn't induce diabetic shock."
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
"...or, maybe a pet pterodactyl, or a..."
With a wry look over at the kid, "'Your Dad will have a fit if you put a triceratops in the garage.'"
"I'd move the car first!"
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
"Skills? I have all kinds of skills! I can invent things, and I can take things apart, and I'm a great thinker and explorer and a conceptual artist and the Dictator-for-Life of the Get Rid Of Slimy girlS Club! If there's a revolution, I'll be leading it!"
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
"Chocolate? Really?!" How much better can this day get? "Okay, milk, I guess..." says Calvin.
"Hm, that's a tough one," says Hobbes, thoughtfully, "I think I'd have to try all three."
"Oh, hey, that's right! Yeah, I need to try all of them. A couple times to make sure."
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
Hobbes looks critical. "Why bears but not tigers?"
"I don't know, why are you asking me? Um, okay...well, robots, obviously. Fairies are for girls." He's ticking the categories off on his fingers. "Monkeys are great! Last time we went to the zoo, Dad took me to the primate palace and you wouldn't believe what this one monkey was doing! In public! Ha ha!"
"Vampires are cool too. There was a movie on last night, 'Vampire Sorority Babes,' and I wanted to watch it but Mom said no, it was on too late. And then the sound of the TV at 2 am woke her up, so we only got to watch a few minutes and it was all goofy ladies in their underwear. So maybe they're not that cool." He scowls with concentration. "Ninjas are cool! I could be a ninja."
"Aren't ninjas supposed to be move swiftly and silently through the darkness?"
"Look, it was pitch black coming out of the bathroom, and if you hadn't pounced on me, I wouldn't have yelled! Fine, you can be a ninja, then. But pirates are also cool, and anyway it's more fun to talk like a pirate. Arr! Avast, me hearties! Man the gangplank and hard to the port starboard!" He turns to open his knapsack. "I think I brought paper, I can make a hat..."
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
"Sharp? I don't think so..." Calvin begins pulling assorted items out of his knapsack - comic books, a red cape and hood, a water pistol... "Nope, nothing sharp. Unless you've got something?" He turns to Hobbes.
Hobbes grins toothily, holds up one paw, and extends his claws.
Calvin looks apprehensive for a moment, then snorts and rolls his eyes. "Show-off."
((Calvin and Hobbes, from "Calvin & Hobbes." Text in italics is exclusive to Calvin's reality - see userinfo for details, but in general assume that unless your character has access to the perceived reality of others they're only seeing/hearing the regular text.))
"Ow," comments the tiger, lying sprawled on his back. After a moment, he sits up and rubs the back of his head. "Just once, I'd like to have a non-crash landing."
"Well, how was I supposed to know that the gravitron thrusters would cut out over Montana? If that 747 hadn't...is that my sandwich you're unwrapping?"
"I need something to soothe my nerves. Anyway, they get soggy if you leave...aachkpth!" At the first bite, Hobbes peers incredulously at the sandwich in question and makes a face. He seems to be having a little difficulty opening his mouth. "What ith thith?"
"Honey, banana and marshmallow. Well, I didn't make it for you, tuna breath, I...Hey! Hey, we're here!" Calvin lets go of the box, and spreads his arms wide as he runs around in a dizzy circle. "Disneyland! Oh boy oh boy oh boy! I want a mickey hat and a frozen lemonade and a hamburger and an ice cream and fudge, and then I want to go on a fast and jolting ride designed to disorient and induce nausea..."
Catches sight of Mickey, and stops. "Oh. Hi."
Hobbes blinks at the Mouse, and after a moment leans over to whisper to Calvin, "Okay, you're right, the pants aren't cool."
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
"Calvin! And this is Hobbes."
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
"Well, it was to come here. See, Dad said that Disneyland was an example of exploitative consumerism at its worst, and he liked his vacations to involve authentic experiences rather than cheap manipulation and empty calories."
"So, I invented a hyperspeed cruiser so Hobbes and I could come here ourselves." He straightens one of the flaps of the cardboard box with pride. "But now that we're here, I guess I need a new quest? Unless..."
Calvin, the bold knight, stands at the gates of the ensorcelled kingdom. His helm is black as night, and his sword gleams, polished by the blood of fallen enemies. He is the knight with no quest, in search only of another foe to conquer...
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
This is a sufficiently interesting question to jerk Calvin's attention back. "A flamethrower! And, um. Wings! And retractable claws!...no, a prehensile tail!...or...A trillion billion dollars, my own space shuttle, and a private continent."
"A sandwich that wouldn't induce diabetic shock."
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
"...or, maybe a pet pterodactyl, or a..."
With a wry look over at the kid, "'Your Dad will have a fit if you put a triceratops in the garage.'"
"I'd move the car first!"
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
"Skills? I have all kinds of skills! I can invent things, and I can take things apart, and I'm a great thinker and explorer and a conceptual artist and the Dictator-for-Life of the Get Rid Of Slimy girlS Club! If there's a revolution, I'll be leading it!"
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
"Chocolate? Really?!" How much better can this day get? "Okay, milk, I guess..." says Calvin.
"Hm, that's a tough one," says Hobbes, thoughtfully, "I think I'd have to try all three."
"Oh, hey, that's right! Yeah, I need to try all of them. A couple times to make sure."
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
Hobbes looks critical. "Why bears but not tigers?"
"I don't know, why are you asking me? Um, okay...well, robots, obviously. Fairies are for girls." He's ticking the categories off on his fingers. "Monkeys are great! Last time we went to the zoo, Dad took me to the primate palace and you wouldn't believe what this one monkey was doing! In public! Ha ha!"
"Vampires are cool too. There was a movie on last night, 'Vampire Sorority Babes,' and I wanted to watch it but Mom said no, it was on too late. And then the sound of the TV at 2 am woke her up, so we only got to watch a few minutes and it was all goofy ladies in their underwear. So maybe they're not that cool." He scowls with concentration. "Ninjas are cool! I could be a ninja."
"Aren't ninjas supposed to be move swiftly and silently through the darkness?"
"Look, it was pitch black coming out of the bathroom, and if you hadn't pounced on me, I wouldn't have yelled! Fine, you can be a ninja, then. But pirates are also cool, and anyway it's more fun to talk like a pirate. Arr! Avast, me hearties! Man the gangplank and hard to the port starboard!" He turns to open his knapsack. "I think I brought paper, I can make a hat..."
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
"Sharp? I don't think so..." Calvin begins pulling assorted items out of his knapsack - comic books, a red cape and hood, a water pistol... "Nope, nothing sharp. Unless you've got something?" He turns to Hobbes.
Hobbes grins toothily, holds up one paw, and extends his claws.
Calvin looks apprehensive for a moment, then snorts and rolls his eyes. "Show-off."
((Calvin and Hobbes, from "Calvin & Hobbes." Text in italics is exclusive to Calvin's reality - see userinfo for details, but in general assume that unless your character has access to the perceived reality of others they're only seeing/hearing the regular text.))