(no subject)
Seymour asked Bar for a cheap room. He got it. It's small, dull grey wallpaper, lumpy mattress. Like home, but better - it's warmer and lacking that damp, mouldy smell.
He wakes up, (feels odd) and the first thing he does is check the flowers. A Mr. Cullins ordered them for his wife. Still in love after thirty-eight years. God, he wants that for himself some day. One of the roses is looking dry, he should--
He's looking without his glasses. He can see the rose just fine, see his glasses next to the vase on the bedside table. He reaches to them - his body moves oddly. Seymour realizes why.
He begins with panting, then whimpering. When the scream comes, it's a classic girl-meeting-the-mummy/vampire/werewolf/alien scream. The freak out commences. He clicks his heels together three times and asks to go home. He calls out to God "or the Virgin or Jehovah or Bela-- uh, any of the others!" He wipes away stray tears of frustration (he's weepy because he's in a woman's body, that's it).
Eventually the freak out ends. He needs to go downstairs, which means he needs to get dressed. Without thinking, he begins slipping off his Bar-loaned pyjama top-- wait, if he takes it off, that means he'll get to see-- Little Jimmy had dirty magazines under his cot because he was a bad kid, bad kids get the strap, you're a dirty sinful boy if you look, you only get to look on your wedding night, even if you won't ever have one because you're a schmuck
-- he quickly pulls the top down. Shoes. Shoes and socks. He'll put on shoes and socks and go downstairs. He tries not to think about what it'll be like using the bathroom.
He wakes up, (feels odd) and the first thing he does is check the flowers. A Mr. Cullins ordered them for his wife. Still in love after thirty-eight years. God, he wants that for himself some day. One of the roses is looking dry, he should--
He's looking without his glasses. He can see the rose just fine, see his glasses next to the vase on the bedside table. He reaches to them - his body moves oddly. Seymour realizes why.
He begins with panting, then whimpering. When the scream comes, it's a classic girl-meeting-the-mummy/vampire/werewolf/alien scream. The freak out commences. He clicks his heels together three times and asks to go home. He calls out to God "or the Virgin or Jehovah or Bela-- uh, any of the others!" He wipes away stray tears of frustration (he's weepy because he's in a woman's body, that's it).
Eventually the freak out ends. He needs to go downstairs, which means he needs to get dressed. Without thinking, he begins slipping off his Bar-loaned pyjama top-- wait, if he takes it off, that means he'll get to see-- Little Jimmy had dirty magazines under his cot because he was a bad kid, bad kids get the strap, you're a dirty sinful boy if you look, you only get to look on your wedding night, even if you won't ever have one because you're a schmuck
-- he quickly pulls the top down. Shoes. Shoes and socks. He'll put on shoes and socks and go downstairs. He tries not to think about what it'll be like using the bathroom.