5 reasons Hard Core Logo should have AU fics (or...not *hides*
1) On the wall of the ‘Haight motherfucking Memorial Library’, Vancouver, there was a sign.
‘No making out in the stacks, this is a fucking place for books, not a brothel, unless you let the staff join in and DON’T GET COME ON THE BOOKS, fuckers.’
‘No pop music, fucking classical, jazz, techno, music that isn’t punk.’
‘DON’T GET COME ON THE BOOKS’
‘No asking stupid questions when the librarian’s asleep.’
‘The blanket in the corner? Don’t touch it.’
‘No asking stupid questions when the librarian’s awake.’
The library itself only seemed to stock books pertaining to goat sacrifice, punk music, van repair, porn and, for reasons that none of the four librarians ever went into much detail about, tap dancing.
The librarians were also idiosyncratic. Head of the library, Joe Dick, spent most of the time either asleep or teaching nine year olds black magic rituals. He spent all his time drunk. Assistant librarian, Billy Tallent, was the best archivist in Canada, and had been sought by many prestigious institutions. Charismatic, mercurial and shy, Billy, it seemed, could find anything the discerning seeker needed. Pipe and John were…well, Pipe was adept at directing people to the toilet, and reading stories to children, narrated entirely through the medium of sandwichmonsters. John spent more time writing than reading, but he had a nice hat.
It is at 11o’clock on a Tuesday morning that we meet the heroes of this grubby little tale…
2) It was hard being the principal of Canada’s finest touring Ballet Company, Joe reflected, idly scratching his belly and rolling his neck back then forward. The barre exercises were a fucking bitch, for one thing. Billy was already warming up, plies first, then facing the barre and bending forward, feet in first. Joe checked out his ass for a bit, then placed his right hand on the barre. Billy might be the prettiest fucking snowflake in the company, but Joe could fucking point his toes with the best of them…
3) “So then the fucking molecules go into this state where they’re solid, liquid and gas, called the triple point. You know why? Yeah, course you do, daddy didn’t pay your fees to have you not know ‘triple’ means three, dinks. The next slide, Billiam, in your own fucking time, cuntface.”
4) “Yee fucking ha!”
5) “Pipe, uh, which end is the trebuchet meant to be pointing?”
They looked at each other with panic plain on the parts of their faces that weren’t caked with mud.
“Fucking Agincourt. Fucking French bastards”
Pipe kicked the base of it, hopped about on the spot for a while then ducked an arrow.
“Where the fuck is Prince Joe?”
“Seige tower, fucking Duke Billy, last I heard.”
“Fucking bastards.”
Come and play *beams* I want to explore!