The Great Gilbert Beilschmidt Experiment!

Apr 27, 2010 22:28

We interrupt this program to bring you... a slight diversion ( Read more... )

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PART 3 herrbeilschmidt April 28 2010, 11:18:40 UTC
What happens when you get drunk?

Well, guess what! I get drunk! Ha-ha. As far as the others told me I laugh more, get a little bit louder and more aggressive and once Arthur starts to undress himself I seem to find that funny a lot. I even joined him once or twice. Can't remember that though and the others don't have any proof.... so.... erm...

Do you have a job? What is it?

Of course I do! I can't sit around doing nothing all day, you know? And my brother needs help after all. Why letting him do all the shit while I'm still around? So I enter our office inside the Bundestag ever Monday to Friday morning and do paper work until evening. I don't like it, but what has to be done has to be done. As simple as that.

Describe your bedroom. (Include where it is in the house.)

What's with that question? Hrrrrrm, dunno, if I really should tell you something as private as that. Let's say there is a bed right in the corner across the door that is far too cold and big for me alone so I share it with the two panda plushs I got from Hong Kong and China. Right next to the door is a commode with a mirror hanging above it. Next to it is my favourite foil, in case some burglar manages to get into our house. Then there us a huuuuge wardrobe- I own a lot of clothes. I'm more into fashion than Ludwig. Didn't think so, hn? Hehe, well I'm the more handsome one after all!
Hrm, right underneath the window there is my desk with my computer on it. And I've got one bookshelf, too. Of course it's full of books... and a stereo. Yeah... there are a lot of some other things, too, but I won't tell you. But even though I love taking photos, only two are hanging right next to my bed. Aside from one painting of old man Fritz there is one photo of Gilbird and one of Ludwig, the three dogs and me. That's enough.
Ah, the room is on the first floor right across the stairs. I've been in a dark room long enough, so I forced my brother to leave one room with a huge window to me! Someone as awesome a me needs lots of light!

What do you think of your room?

Oh, I like it, but I prefer being outside of it. You should go and get yourself locked up for about 40 years! Come on, try!

How are you feeling? (Physically)

Gah, don't ask! Since Alfred messed up the economy again (and my stupid brother followed his lead right away) Ludwig and I both have this freaking cold. I just can't seem to get rid of it. Pisses me off! Aside from that I'm feeling fine, thanks!

Have you been taking good care of yourself?

Of course! And if I didn't, my brother did. HAHA!

How are you feeling? (Mentally)

Bored. I miss those times when I got to fight a lot. But then again... times have changed. Those new weapons are just not my style.
There's so much to worry about, but I try not to think of it too much. I want to be in high spirits, so my people feel a little bit better. I do my best. I always do!

Who is your favorite person?

Hahahaha, you really need to ask that one? Isn't that obvious? Me, of course! Ah, ok, and old man Fritz. That guy was awesome! Sad thing you humans only life such short lives, I.......... need a break.

Who is your least favorite person?

Ok, some of you might be surprised by that, but- Alfred! I HATE that fat bastard! "Why not Ivan?" some might ask. Well, I dislike Ivan, too, but you know... though Ivan broke me by what he did at the end of WWII, Alfred was the one to dissolute Prussia and thus nearly killed me! And I have to admit: Ivan was the one to save me. So this is why.

What is your favorite memory?

The day I found my little brother. I won't tell you much about it, only what I told him, too: That I had known that he had to be somewhere and that I had searched for him for years till I found him inside the ruin of an old castle somewhere in a big wood. This changed everything for me. Not only on the outside, but also on the inside.

What is your least favorite memory?

The day Ivan knocked at my door in 1945... so hard he unhinged it. ..... sorry, won't say anymore about that.

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