{ trauma twenty-one }
[Morris is currently making to get the fuck out of his room, because waking up in a creepy-ass bed = NOT COOL]
Holy crap, is that supposed to be the first Morris who came over from England? Why didn't he get burned at the stake for being a redhead? Didn't they do that to people with red hair? Or did they not bother letting them live and just threw them off cliffs--OMIGOD IT'S FOLLOWING ME AROUND THE ROOM. You're not a Jesus painting! QUIT!
[have a sudden massive rustling of paper and a muffled thwack; he just threw his journal at the painting on the wall. It's still doing what all good Jesus paintings do: following him around the room with its eyes. Morris sighs and picks the journal back up]
Okay, journal, we're beating it out of here. [door shut, lock turning] Wow, the hallway's even wor--SHIT!
[aaaand more rustling pages and a loud thud. Morris, meet trap door]
Ow...
Holy crap, is that supposed to be the first Morris who came over from England? Why didn't he get burned at the stake for being a redhead? Didn't they do that to people with red hair? Or did they not bother letting them live and just threw them off cliffs--OMIGOD IT'S FOLLOWING ME AROUND THE ROOM. You're not a Jesus painting! QUIT!
[have a sudden massive rustling of paper and a muffled thwack; he just threw his journal at the painting on the wall. It's still doing what all good Jesus paintings do: following him around the room with its eyes. Morris sighs and picks the journal back up]
Okay, journal, we're beating it out of here. [door shut, lock turning] Wow, the hallway's even wor--SHIT!
[aaaand more rustling pages and a loud thud. Morris, meet trap door]
Ow...