Primeval ficlet: Moar Werds Plees!
Title: Moar Werds Plees!
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from it.
Summary: Comments can, at times, be infuriating, and Connor's more like Cutter than you might have guessed.
AN: Due to the readership on the site, I have left the ending of this ficlet open, because the Nick/Stephen 'shippers can happily imagine, well, you'll see. This was inspired by the YouTube comment I have used below, because . . . well . . . someone had better find a better use for 'philosoraptor' than this fic.
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You clearly have a subpar intellect and your idiocy knows no bounds. If you can't coherently spell words written at the bloody top of the bloody page, you should get the bloody fuck away from the keyboard . . .
"Connor, step away from the computer," Abby said.
Connor ignored her, feverishly typing.
Abby sighed. "Connor, I know you're upset, but stupid people are everywhere. You can't go mad over every single one."
"Hmmph," he grumbled. "You'd be upset too if someone were that stupid about your lizards."
She nearly growled in irritation and said, "Conn, we're at the ARC. This is not the time or place for it."
"I'm done all my work," Connor informed her as he googled up a page devoted to insults in search of something even more scathing as his intellect failed to produce something horrible enough.
Taking a deep breath, Abby decided to sacrifice herself on the altar of Connor not making even more of an idiot of himself. She kissed him. Connor froze, then kissed her back. She was rather surprised at how nice it was, and was even looking a little forward to it when she said, "Take me out for dinner Connor?"
He glanced back at the computer, then her, then nodded, grinning, and practically dragged her off.
Ten minutes later, Nick Cutter stopped by the unattended computer, innocently open to YouTube postings of old dinosaur television specials. Dead centre was a comment on the special about the troodon.
Is it not moar like the trodon Well have Evoled to the philosoraptor
Stephen found him tapping away at the keyboard. He'd picked up where Connor had left off.
. . . and take yourself back to the nursery school you clearly shouldn't have left yet, you daft nincompoop, and leave the discussion to people who have greater intelligence than a dead houseplant . . .
"Cutter, it's YouTube. Let it go."
"Stephen, it's morons like that which pollute the gene pool and need to be taken away where they can't lower the collective IQ of humanity," Cutter ranted.
Stephen sighed. "Nick, step away from the computer."
Go to the Primeval Archive Page
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from it.
Summary: Comments can, at times, be infuriating, and Connor's more like Cutter than you might have guessed.
AN: Due to the readership on the site, I have left the ending of this ficlet open, because the Nick/Stephen 'shippers can happily imagine, well, you'll see. This was inspired by the YouTube comment I have used below, because . . . well . . . someone had better find a better use for 'philosoraptor' than this fic.
*******************************
You clearly have a subpar intellect and your idiocy knows no bounds. If you can't coherently spell words written at the bloody top of the bloody page, you should get the bloody fuck away from the keyboard . . .
"Connor, step away from the computer," Abby said.
Connor ignored her, feverishly typing.
Abby sighed. "Connor, I know you're upset, but stupid people are everywhere. You can't go mad over every single one."
"Hmmph," he grumbled. "You'd be upset too if someone were that stupid about your lizards."
She nearly growled in irritation and said, "Conn, we're at the ARC. This is not the time or place for it."
"I'm done all my work," Connor informed her as he googled up a page devoted to insults in search of something even more scathing as his intellect failed to produce something horrible enough.
Taking a deep breath, Abby decided to sacrifice herself on the altar of Connor not making even more of an idiot of himself. She kissed him. Connor froze, then kissed her back. She was rather surprised at how nice it was, and was even looking a little forward to it when she said, "Take me out for dinner Connor?"
He glanced back at the computer, then her, then nodded, grinning, and practically dragged her off.
Ten minutes later, Nick Cutter stopped by the unattended computer, innocently open to YouTube postings of old dinosaur television specials. Dead centre was a comment on the special about the troodon.
Is it not moar like the trodon Well have Evoled to the philosoraptor
Stephen found him tapping away at the keyboard. He'd picked up where Connor had left off.
. . . and take yourself back to the nursery school you clearly shouldn't have left yet, you daft nincompoop, and leave the discussion to people who have greater intelligence than a dead houseplant . . .
"Cutter, it's YouTube. Let it go."
"Stephen, it's morons like that which pollute the gene pool and need to be taken away where they can't lower the collective IQ of humanity," Cutter ranted.
Stephen sighed. "Nick, step away from the computer."
Go to the Primeval Archive Page