First drone encounter
(ooc; I felt it needed to be done.
He's now walking down Taylor Road and is quite distressed at seeing his drone family. Feel free to run into him and make his life more miserable or otherwise.)
[He's been dreading this moment since he fell asleep on the couch after the first phone call. He sleeps with his hat on but his shoes and socks off, completely barefoot and sloppy. By now he's kicked the towel he was using as a blanket all over the place (he wasn't about to risk going back into the other room for any reason) and his fitful sleep is interrupted by brighter light than he's used to and an effeminate voice coming from the bedroom.]
Dear, why did you leave in the middle of the night? And is the door stuck again? One of these days I have to call a maintenance man to fix this darn thing.
[It's like she's intentionally ignoring the fact that he trapped her in there, and not only that, but she seems to think they have an already established relationship.
He's really not sure what to say to it all, so he hops off the couch and ignores her for now.
Well, silly, aren't you going to let me out so I can make breakfast, one of these days?
No, I'll make it myself.
This is almost as frightening as having the Groke for a wife...she seems to have the awareness of a rock. Or maybe she's just in denial about him trying to lock her in their room.
Oh dear, it looks like one of my dresses got caught under there.
[He ignores her again as she (it?) opens the door and walks daintily out, fully dressed for some reason. Fortunately he makes it to the kitchen first. He doesn't want this...thing touching anything he's about to eat.]
Well, you certainly have an adventurous wardrobe today, pumpkin!
Hm.
[He digs through the shelves, looking for something edible. He manages to scrounge what looks like instant pancake mix.]
Just add water? That sounds ridiculous...they'll probably taste a quarter as good as Moominmama's pancakes.
Why are you making breakfast? I had sausages ready already, dear.
I can make it myself.
[He's pretty much grunting out his words as he starts spooning the mixture on to a pan, looking for jam as he lets them simmer.]
Well, it sounds like the kids are up! Better send them off to school after breakfast.
[He just stops himself from groaning. Loudly. And though he already discredited his theory of the Hemulens setting all this up to torture him, he has to wonder what sort of cruel twist of fate would put him in a horrible town, offer him no reprieve, and on top of that, give him children.
As it turns out, very annoying children, who start hurting his ears as soon as they start chattering.]
Golly gosh, pops, did you get dressed in the dark today?
I'm not your father, and if you have to talk to me, call me Snufkin.
[Ooh yes, this is his personal hell, he is sure of it.]
Gee dad, you don't have to be so grumpy! Why are you makin' breakfast?
Because usually that's mom's job.
I'm perfectly capable of making my own breakfast.
[The children are so horrendously creepy to him that he spoons two kinds of jam inside the rolled up pancakes and puts them on two plates before setting them at the table.]
I'm going out.
Aww dad, are you mad at us?
I think there's some milk in the fridge, so you can have that with your pancakes.
[Hopefully the stuff will send them to the hospital. He becomes flustered around children, but these...things add a new level to his animosity towards children. If only they would go away by themselves.]
You're goin' to work like that, pops? Gee, you're gonna embarass me in front of my whole class if they see you like that!
He slams the door behind him, agitated, and starts walking to the road. His tie is still there, so he keeps it there in order to remember his house and make the surroundings look less uniform]
Houses as far as the eye can see...
[He's walking down Taylor road, eyeing the gates and wondering if he could rip them out and use them for firewood like he did with the Hemulen's signs. They look a bit firmer than the latter were, though.]
He's now walking down Taylor Road and is quite distressed at seeing his drone family. Feel free to run into him and make his life more miserable or otherwise.)
[He's been dreading this moment since he fell asleep on the couch after the first phone call. He sleeps with his hat on but his shoes and socks off, completely barefoot and sloppy. By now he's kicked the towel he was using as a blanket all over the place (he wasn't about to risk going back into the other room for any reason) and his fitful sleep is interrupted by brighter light than he's used to and an effeminate voice coming from the bedroom.]
Dear, why did you leave in the middle of the night? And is the door stuck again? One of these days I have to call a maintenance man to fix this darn thing.
[It's like she's intentionally ignoring the fact that he trapped her in there, and not only that, but she seems to think they have an already established relationship.
He's really not sure what to say to it all, so he hops off the couch and ignores her for now.
Well, silly, aren't you going to let me out so I can make breakfast, one of these days?
No, I'll make it myself.
This is almost as frightening as having the Groke for a wife...she seems to have the awareness of a rock. Or maybe she's just in denial about him trying to lock her in their room.
Oh dear, it looks like one of my dresses got caught under there.
[He ignores her again as she (it?) opens the door and walks daintily out, fully dressed for some reason. Fortunately he makes it to the kitchen first. He doesn't want this...thing touching anything he's about to eat.]
Well, you certainly have an adventurous wardrobe today, pumpkin!
Hm.
[He digs through the shelves, looking for something edible. He manages to scrounge what looks like instant pancake mix.]
Just add water? That sounds ridiculous...they'll probably taste a quarter as good as Moominmama's pancakes.
Why are you making breakfast? I had sausages ready already, dear.
I can make it myself.
[He's pretty much grunting out his words as he starts spooning the mixture on to a pan, looking for jam as he lets them simmer.]
Well, it sounds like the kids are up! Better send them off to school after breakfast.
[He just stops himself from groaning. Loudly. And though he already discredited his theory of the Hemulens setting all this up to torture him, he has to wonder what sort of cruel twist of fate would put him in a horrible town, offer him no reprieve, and on top of that, give him children.
As it turns out, very annoying children, who start hurting his ears as soon as they start chattering.]
Golly gosh, pops, did you get dressed in the dark today?
I'm not your father, and if you have to talk to me, call me Snufkin.
[Ooh yes, this is his personal hell, he is sure of it.]
Gee dad, you don't have to be so grumpy! Why are you makin' breakfast?
Because usually that's mom's job.
I'm perfectly capable of making my own breakfast.
[The children are so horrendously creepy to him that he spoons two kinds of jam inside the rolled up pancakes and puts them on two plates before setting them at the table.]
I'm going out.
Aww dad, are you mad at us?
I think there's some milk in the fridge, so you can have that with your pancakes.
[Hopefully the stuff will send them to the hospital. He becomes flustered around children, but these...things add a new level to his animosity towards children. If only they would go away by themselves.]
You're goin' to work like that, pops? Gee, you're gonna embarass me in front of my whole class if they see you like that!
He slams the door behind him, agitated, and starts walking to the road. His tie is still there, so he keeps it there in order to remember his house and make the surroundings look less uniform]
Houses as far as the eye can see...
[He's walking down Taylor road, eyeing the gates and wondering if he could rip them out and use them for firewood like he did with the Hemulen's signs. They look a bit firmer than the latter were, though.]