002: Action @ The Park! With hats and naval tactics!
[There had been two things on Spain’s coffee table earlier in the day, neither of which he was too sure about: a light blue jellybean (seemingly speckled, like an abandoned robin’s egg) and an unopened box of BATTLESHIP. He licked the former out of curiosity and one thing led to another until it was snug in his stomach and he was feeling acid reflux from the depths of el infierno.
And one more thing: a sombrero decorated with multicolored pompoms that was not actually his (he doesn't...think so at least) but was nonetheless parked innocently and just a tad obnoxiously atop his head. That appeared at precisely dawn. To add to the humiliation he did not at all think he deserved, he was having a surprising amount of trouble taking it off (read: he couldn’t).
The best part of this whole shenanigan was: he knows he’s been through worse.]
This place just gets more magical as the days pass, huh? Ahaha...well, at least the color isn't too bad. [He flicks the hat brim] I just wish it wasn’t so...so wide. Imagine if anyone knew the acrobatics I had to pull just to get through the door. ......QUE PASA! PORQUE --- churros. Mmmm Churros churros churros.....
[When he reaches the park, he settles down under a shady oak, the grass lightly staining his brown military issue uniform pants. He unfolds the small plastic playset and assembles his miniature forces on the grid, horrendously amused. BRING IT, ENGLAND. LET’S SEE WHO’S GOT THE BETTER ARMADA, NOW, He thinks gleefully to himself (and not in the slightest realizing that that very thought and all the past others boomed with amphitheater quality all around him), pretending to take on the island nation, practicing old strategic motions carved into memory through centuries of war and imperialism and too much late-night tequila.]
Submarine to F6!
[OOC: Thoughts are portrayed in italics. Anyone and everyone are welcome to come “play” a round with him and/or chat and/or help him try and figure out this hat problem. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.]
And one more thing: a sombrero decorated with multicolored pompoms that was not actually his (he doesn't...think so at least) but was nonetheless parked innocently and just a tad obnoxiously atop his head. That appeared at precisely dawn. To add to the humiliation he did not at all think he deserved, he was having a surprising amount of trouble taking it off (read: he couldn’t).
The best part of this whole shenanigan was: he knows he’s been through worse.]
This place just gets more magical as the days pass, huh? Ahaha...well, at least the color isn't too bad. [He flicks the hat brim] I just wish it wasn’t so...so wide. Imagine if anyone knew the acrobatics I had to pull just to get through the door. ......QUE PASA! PORQUE --- churros. Mmmm Churros churros churros.....
[When he reaches the park, he settles down under a shady oak, the grass lightly staining his brown military issue uniform pants. He unfolds the small plastic playset and assembles his miniature forces on the grid, horrendously amused. BRING IT, ENGLAND. LET’S SEE WHO’S GOT THE BETTER ARMADA, NOW, He thinks gleefully to himself (and not in the slightest realizing that that very thought and all the past others boomed with amphitheater quality all around him), pretending to take on the island nation, practicing old strategic motions carved into memory through centuries of war and imperialism and too much late-night tequila.]
Submarine to F6!
[OOC: Thoughts are portrayed in italics. Anyone and everyone are welcome to come “play” a round with him and/or chat and/or help him try and figure out this hat problem. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.]