02 (accidental video) - BACKDATED to Tuesday afternoon
[When was the last actual time Chuck Shurley took a nap? College, probably- he doesn't nap, he just sleeps during the day. Today is different. Today he shuts off the NV after Jinx's unfortunate accidental tampon broadcast due to a crushing headache, and promptly conks out on the couch.
He wakes up 45 minutes later feeling more tired than before with head full to bursting, and can't get to the NV fast enough. No matter what Chuck can't get the scenes out of his head fast enough, can't sort it quick enough, and it comes out almost like a stream of consciousness writing rather than a careful narrative. There's so much and it takes almost an hour to realize that there were actually two completely unrelated visions, instead of one story.
As he edits and tweaks and starts making sense of things a cold panic grips Him. The NV switches on some time later, after he's abandoned it for his new notebooks, to show Chuck across the sparse living room, on the couch deep in concentration. It's a good thing he doesn't have work tonight, because he's surrounded by papers with writings, scribbles, vague drawings and crappy shapes with lots of wavy lines. He's arranging things, drawing long lines, muttering dimly to himself and looking stressed.
A passing glance over the NV seems to catch his attention, and he runs over to it.] Oh, come on, what the- {After a moment of staring, figuring the stupid thing out, his expression clears.]
Okay, that's weird. It must have sensed that I had really important stuff to talk about. Like- how much cotton candy is a man allowed to keep behind the bar before losing respect for himself? Or- okay.
I need you guys' opinions on this. I need to think of a Jinx-themed name for a drink that tastes like licorice and lemon. Yeah, serious stuff, I know. This is the shit that keeps you up at night.
[He clears his throat and goes into a mild coughing fit, before reaching for a drink of water off screen.] -And, uh- oh yeah. I'm starting apartment hunting now. I mean- I figure it's better to have it figured out by the time you get evicted, right?
So, uh. I'm a night person- you know, working at bars and stuff, and... I don't know, that's pretty much the only thing about me. There's a risk of angels getting up in your business when I'm around, but yeah. [Awkward turtle.] I haven't had to roommate hunt since 1989.
[VOICE CALLS TO GABRIEL AND JINX]
[After the extremely distressing contents of his dream, Chuck bombs Gabriel's NV with roughly 54576534 calls, one after the other, gradually leaving more and more obnoxious messages that He knows will ring out into whatever room the device is in. Hello? Gabriel? Hey, it's me- turns into I WANT YOUR UGLY, I WANT YOUR DISEASE I WANT YOUR EVERYTHING AS LONG AS IT'S FREE~ in a deliberately bad voice that luckily sounds drunk.
When the calls start going straight to voicemail, he gives Jinx the same treatment. Calls over and over, telling long and awful jokes to the NV in the knowledge that it'll play his feed to the room she's in- the rambling crap you only hear at family functions with Great Uncle Herbert. Not that he has any real hope they kept their NVs on, but he has to try.]
He wakes up 45 minutes later feeling more tired than before with head full to bursting, and can't get to the NV fast enough. No matter what Chuck can't get the scenes out of his head fast enough, can't sort it quick enough, and it comes out almost like a stream of consciousness writing rather than a careful narrative. There's so much and it takes almost an hour to realize that there were actually two completely unrelated visions, instead of one story.
As he edits and tweaks and starts making sense of things a cold panic grips Him. The NV switches on some time later, after he's abandoned it for his new notebooks, to show Chuck across the sparse living room, on the couch deep in concentration. It's a good thing he doesn't have work tonight, because he's surrounded by papers with writings, scribbles, vague drawings and crappy shapes with lots of wavy lines. He's arranging things, drawing long lines, muttering dimly to himself and looking stressed.
A passing glance over the NV seems to catch his attention, and he runs over to it.] Oh, come on, what the- {After a moment of staring, figuring the stupid thing out, his expression clears.]
Okay, that's weird. It must have sensed that I had really important stuff to talk about. Like- how much cotton candy is a man allowed to keep behind the bar before losing respect for himself? Or- okay.
I need you guys' opinions on this. I need to think of a Jinx-themed name for a drink that tastes like licorice and lemon. Yeah, serious stuff, I know. This is the shit that keeps you up at night.
[He clears his throat and goes into a mild coughing fit, before reaching for a drink of water off screen.] -And, uh- oh yeah. I'm starting apartment hunting now. I mean- I figure it's better to have it figured out by the time you get evicted, right?
So, uh. I'm a night person- you know, working at bars and stuff, and... I don't know, that's pretty much the only thing about me. There's a risk of angels getting up in your business when I'm around, but yeah. [Awkward turtle.] I haven't had to roommate hunt since 1989.
[VOICE CALLS TO GABRIEL AND JINX]
[After the extremely distressing contents of his dream, Chuck bombs Gabriel's NV with roughly 54576534 calls, one after the other, gradually leaving more and more obnoxious messages that He knows will ring out into whatever room the device is in. Hello? Gabriel? Hey, it's me- turns into I WANT YOUR UGLY, I WANT YOUR DISEASE I WANT YOUR EVERYTHING AS LONG AS IT'S FREE~ in a deliberately bad voice that luckily sounds drunk.
When the calls start going straight to voicemail, he gives Jinx the same treatment. Calls over and over, telling long and awful jokes to the NV in the knowledge that it'll play his feed to the room she's in- the rambling crap you only hear at family functions with Great Uncle Herbert. Not that he has any real hope they kept their NVs on, but he has to try.]