Hoist the Shakespearebint Flag!
Yes, folks, it's time for us all to gather 'round and join our fangirl hands in honor of shakespearebint 's brithday. For those of you unfamiliar with the BINT, she climbed aboard the Dragons' flist after purchasing said Dragons in a charity auction. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, her hard-earned and generously donated funds were responsible for my Winchester smackdown!fic. That debacle known as The Mystery Mile.
BLAME HER. I know I do. :) Happy birthday, my dear.
Let's see how the boys is doing with your present, shall we?
Dean: Oh, great. Now I have burrito juice on my pants.
Sam: Dude, are you eating again? We had breakfast, like, an hour ago. Where's Dragons?
Dean: Uh, yeah. She's not here.
Sam: Well, where is she? She was supposed to be meeting us. Did she forget?
Dean: *chews* Uh, no. She left a message on my cell. Somethin' about horse!Sam havin' some Mexican jumpin' beans or somethin'. I dunno. I wasn't really listening. Made me kinda hungry. Had to stop for a burrito.
Sam: Great. So, it's shakespearebint's birthday, Dragons is AWOL, and you've achieved a burrito.
Dean: And a doughnut. I ate that first.
Sam: Of course you did. So what are we gonna get her?
Dean: I dunno. Maybe we should split up.
Sam: Dean, I hardly know this girl. Do we even know what she likes?
Dean: Well, she's one of those writer chicks. Like Dragons. Except I think she's actually good at it. Got a book in the works. She's goin' to one of the smartass expensive colleges this year. Oh. And knitting. She likes knitting. You know that purple scarf that Dragons's been fuckin' livin' in since May? That was from her. And that gothic kinda weirdy card thing on Dragons's fridge. With all the new stuff in it everytime you look. So, yeah. We better get her somethin' nice. She's classy. Classier than Dragons.
Sam: Dean, a farting nun is classier than Dragons.
Dean: I know. She's pretty awesome, huh?
Sam: *long noncommittal pause*
Dean: Listen, we're burning daylight. Just... pick somethin' nice, meet me back at the motel in an hour.
Sam: Fine. Try not to buy her a six pack of beer and a stick of jerky.
Dean: Copy that. Try not to buy yourself a dress.
ONE HOUR LATER:
Dean: So, I've been to every fuckin' store in this godforsaken shithole and the only thing I got is a book voucher.
Sam: Oh, my God. A book voucher? Could you be more lame? What are you, amazon.com? Jesus.
Dean: Oh, like you did any better?
Sam: As a matter of fact...
Sam: *presents spirit phone* It's a spirit phone.
Dean: A spirit phone? You got her a spirit phone? Are you nuts?
Sam: What? It's classy.
Dean: What the fuck is she gonna do with that? 'Oh, happy birthday, shakespearebint. May your house be infested with the disembodied souls of rotting corpses'. Nice one, jackass.
Sam: Oh. Crap. Well, I kinda didn't think about it like that. I guess you're right. It is sort of.. creepy. When you put it that way.
Sam: We really suck at buying presents.
Dean: We're dead men. Screw my stupid deal. Dragons is gonna kill us both.
Happy Birthday, shakespearebint. Sorry about your present. *throws hands up* Those Winchester boys is USELESS.
ETA: HOMG. El Jay, you is sucking the donkey-sized cock tonight. Sorry, but you really is. Apologies to any flisties caught in the crossfire while I was wrestling code crocodiles.
BLAME HER. I know I do. :) Happy birthday, my dear.
Let's see how the boys is doing with your present, shall we?
Dean: Oh, great. Now I have burrito juice on my pants.
Sam: Dude, are you eating again? We had breakfast, like, an hour ago. Where's Dragons?
Dean: Uh, yeah. She's not here.
Sam: Well, where is she? She was supposed to be meeting us. Did she forget?
Dean: *chews* Uh, no. She left a message on my cell. Somethin' about horse!Sam havin' some Mexican jumpin' beans or somethin'. I dunno. I wasn't really listening. Made me kinda hungry. Had to stop for a burrito.
Sam: Great. So, it's shakespearebint's birthday, Dragons is AWOL, and you've achieved a burrito.
Dean: And a doughnut. I ate that first.
Sam: Of course you did. So what are we gonna get her?
Dean: I dunno. Maybe we should split up.
Sam: Dean, I hardly know this girl. Do we even know what she likes?
Dean: Well, she's one of those writer chicks. Like Dragons. Except I think she's actually good at it. Got a book in the works. She's goin' to one of the smartass expensive colleges this year. Oh. And knitting. She likes knitting. You know that purple scarf that Dragons's been fuckin' livin' in since May? That was from her. And that gothic kinda weirdy card thing on Dragons's fridge. With all the new stuff in it everytime you look. So, yeah. We better get her somethin' nice. She's classy. Classier than Dragons.
Sam: Dean, a farting nun is classier than Dragons.
Dean: I know. She's pretty awesome, huh?
Sam: *long noncommittal pause*
Dean: Listen, we're burning daylight. Just... pick somethin' nice, meet me back at the motel in an hour.
Sam: Fine. Try not to buy her a six pack of beer and a stick of jerky.
Dean: Copy that. Try not to buy yourself a dress.
ONE HOUR LATER:
Dean: So, I've been to every fuckin' store in this godforsaken shithole and the only thing I got is a book voucher.
Sam: Oh, my God. A book voucher? Could you be more lame? What are you, amazon.com? Jesus.
Dean: Oh, like you did any better?
Sam: As a matter of fact...
Sam: *presents spirit phone* It's a spirit phone.
Dean: A spirit phone? You got her a spirit phone? Are you nuts?
Sam: What? It's classy.
Dean: What the fuck is she gonna do with that? 'Oh, happy birthday, shakespearebint. May your house be infested with the disembodied souls of rotting corpses'. Nice one, jackass.
Sam: Oh. Crap. Well, I kinda didn't think about it like that. I guess you're right. It is sort of.. creepy. When you put it that way.
Sam: We really suck at buying presents.
Dean: We're dead men. Screw my stupid deal. Dragons is gonna kill us both.
Happy Birthday, shakespearebint. Sorry about your present. *throws hands up* Those Winchester boys is USELESS.
ETA: HOMG. El Jay, you is sucking the donkey-sized cock tonight. Sorry, but you really is. Apologies to any flisties caught in the crossfire while I was wrestling code crocodiles.