(no subject)
So Dexter was gone. Brian noticed it after less than a day, but he pretty much went right back to doing all the normal, boring stupid island shit he always did immediately afterwards. Nothing was more numbing than a proper, fixed daily routine.
He also figured there wasn't much of a choice. What else was he going to do? Killing half the idiots on the island wouldn't bring his brother back.
Being alone wasn't anything new, but it was hard to concentrate on anything interesting. Was he upset? Probably. Luckily, the emotion was choosing to manifest itself in the form of a headache. A headache was manageable. Everyone got headaches.
He tried getting rid of it by taking out a few unnecessary animals with knives in the dark of the jungle, but the migraine lingered on. And, of course, the island didn't have any advil, tylenol, or even a cheap Wal-mart knockoff.
In the end, he did laundry because it was Saturday and in the real world, most people did laundry during the week. Maybe that wasn't always true of a desert island, but the laundry room was empty. After the clothes were done drying, Brian started ironing everything he owned and rubbing his forehead every once in awhile. Then he'd fold the clothes meticulously or throw them on the ground and wash them again. It didn't matter. Nothing ever did.
He also figured there wasn't much of a choice. What else was he going to do? Killing half the idiots on the island wouldn't bring his brother back.
Being alone wasn't anything new, but it was hard to concentrate on anything interesting. Was he upset? Probably. Luckily, the emotion was choosing to manifest itself in the form of a headache. A headache was manageable. Everyone got headaches.
He tried getting rid of it by taking out a few unnecessary animals with knives in the dark of the jungle, but the migraine lingered on. And, of course, the island didn't have any advil, tylenol, or even a cheap Wal-mart knockoff.
In the end, he did laundry because it was Saturday and in the real world, most people did laundry during the week. Maybe that wasn't always true of a desert island, but the laundry room was empty. After the clothes were done drying, Brian started ironing everything he owned and rubbing his forehead every once in awhile. Then he'd fold the clothes meticulously or throw them on the ground and wash them again. It didn't matter. Nothing ever did.