[video]
[Directly after the video starts, the NV it's broadcasting from is slammed down atop something- the camera only points up at the ceiling, right now, but there's a vaguely metallic bout of clattering, and the humming sound close by is definitely from a refrigerator.]
This is such bullshit, [someone says, and it's an angry voice, but it's also... fairly tiny, and - to be honest, too young to be using that sort of language. Shuffle, clatter, et cetera.] Amazing bullshit. Where the hell is-
[Everything but the fridge's buzzing stops for a few seconds, before a soft clink sounds, and then the rustling of plastic wrap. Step, step, clatter. Then the NV's picked up-
Well, this sure looks bizarrely like Alois Trancy. Except young. Er, younger. -He is undeniably hilariously small now. There's a roundness to his face, but only a little bit of baby fat. His scowl actually seems more intense at this age, though.]
Whatever's gone on isn't what I care about right now, [he says at the camera, and then the view becomes incredibly shaky as he climbs up onto whatever he'd at first set his NV atop. (According to the glimpses a person might get, it's a wooden barstool, likely dragged across the kitchen for this purpose.) This helps him bypass the handicap of having stubby legs, and allows him up onto the counter. With angry little sounds and sighs, he settles himself, and then props his NV up close by. The plate taken from the fridge is set down on his lap- it's a wrapped up piece of strawberry cake. It's also torn into voraciously, momentarily.
He talks with his mouth full: ]
But, look, it had better be fixed. This is stupid, and it's also the stupidest. [Chew, chew. Holy cats, that cake is almost done already. Little kid metabolism is intense. He sets the plate down, although it's not quite empty, and simply stands on the countertop (with his shoes on! Yes, he already has shoes his size) so he can rummage around in the cupboard.
Excellent. Graham crackers acquired. As he basically rips the box open, he also sits himself back down again, legs crisscrossed.]
I can't stand this and I'm tired of stupid horseshit happening to my... [There's an odd hesitance here. He wrinkles his nose and finishes,] Body.
[Munch.]
If someone can fix it, it needs to be fixed. I don't really care who or how. [No, he does, but he's obstinate enough right now to not want to care.] I'm tired-
[-In general, apparently, because he has to stop in his chewing to yawn widely. Childhood is exhausting!!]
...Of this! Fuck, nevermind it! [And, flustered by his own display, he slams his cracker down with one hand (breaking it in the process) and smacks the feed off with his other. Definitely stupid!!]
[Replies will be made with pitchfits! Also, housemates, he's been small for a few hours now, so feel free to have noticed - or react accordingly if you'd like to play out the shock value, whichever.]
This is such bullshit, [someone says, and it's an angry voice, but it's also... fairly tiny, and - to be honest, too young to be using that sort of language. Shuffle, clatter, et cetera.] Amazing bullshit. Where the hell is-
[Everything but the fridge's buzzing stops for a few seconds, before a soft clink sounds, and then the rustling of plastic wrap. Step, step, clatter. Then the NV's picked up-
Well, this sure looks bizarrely like Alois Trancy. Except young. Er, younger. -He is undeniably hilariously small now. There's a roundness to his face, but only a little bit of baby fat. His scowl actually seems more intense at this age, though.]
Whatever's gone on isn't what I care about right now, [he says at the camera, and then the view becomes incredibly shaky as he climbs up onto whatever he'd at first set his NV atop. (According to the glimpses a person might get, it's a wooden barstool, likely dragged across the kitchen for this purpose.) This helps him bypass the handicap of having stubby legs, and allows him up onto the counter. With angry little sounds and sighs, he settles himself, and then props his NV up close by. The plate taken from the fridge is set down on his lap- it's a wrapped up piece of strawberry cake. It's also torn into voraciously, momentarily.
He talks with his mouth full: ]
But, look, it had better be fixed. This is stupid, and it's also the stupidest. [Chew, chew. Holy cats, that cake is almost done already. Little kid metabolism is intense. He sets the plate down, although it's not quite empty, and simply stands on the countertop (with his shoes on! Yes, he already has shoes his size) so he can rummage around in the cupboard.
Excellent. Graham crackers acquired. As he basically rips the box open, he also sits himself back down again, legs crisscrossed.]
I can't stand this and I'm tired of stupid horseshit happening to my... [There's an odd hesitance here. He wrinkles his nose and finishes,] Body.
[Munch.]
If someone can fix it, it needs to be fixed. I don't really care who or how. [No, he does, but he's obstinate enough right now to not want to care.] I'm tired-
[-In general, apparently, because he has to stop in his chewing to yawn widely. Childhood is exhausting!!]
...Of this! Fuck, nevermind it! [And, flustered by his own display, he slams his cracker down with one hand (breaking it in the process) and smacks the feed off with his other. Definitely stupid!!]
[Replies will be made with pitchfits! Also, housemates, he's been small for a few hours now, so feel free to have noticed - or react accordingly if you'd like to play out the shock value, whichever.]