003 {Video} Failed private to Bobby Singer

[failedparenting]

[The first thing you'll notice it that John looks like absolute hell. He's been floating from bar to bar or at least a day. His clothes are completely rumpled and you can practically smell the whiskey and desperation coming off him.]

Hey, Bobby? I need a favor, bad. [He scrubs a hand across his face, looking completely exhausted.] I need to crash

Comments

private;

[paterelohim]

...Uh, John? Locking this would probably be a good idea.

Re: private;

[failedparenting]

This was a priv- oh, shit.

[A mad scramble to check the message and- yep. Sent it to everyone.]

Everyone. Just saw that.

private;

[paterelohim]

Uh. Yeah. Sorry.

[Y i k e s this is the stuff of Newcomer nightmares.]

You could try filtering it from her and if you're really lucky she won't have seen it yet?

Re: private;

[failedparenting]

[He groans, burying his face in his hands.]

She'll find out eventually.

[Fuck his life.]

private;

[paterelohim]

[Okay, Chuck seriously doesn't like John, but holy hell. This is just cruel.]

Man. This is why Google invented Mail Goggles.

[Useless comment is useless. But hey! It's not about feelings. Winchesters like that.]

Re: private;

[failedparenting]

What the hell's a "mail goggles"?

[At least he knows what Google is.]

private;

[paterelohim]

[SUCCESS.]

It's this program that's like beer goggles for email. If you try to send an email after a certain time of night, it makes you solve a math problem first. To keep you from sending some shitfaced email calling your boss a jackass or something.

Re: private;

[failedparenting]

This wasn't some drunk dial. I meant to call Bobby, I just pressed a wrong button.

[He's offended you'd think he's a drunk dialer, Chuck.]