(no subject)
If Owen was in a sour mood today, it was for a good reason. He'd put off laundry day one day too many and was stuck in a t-shirt that read "FRANKIE SAYS RELAX" in giant letters on the front until his first load was done. It was one of the shit parts of the island that he should have been used to by now, but the clothes box refusing to be anything but as unhelpful as possible had yet to get any less annoying.
Now, with a cup of coffee that he'd poured from an already made pot in the kitchen-- thank god for that-- Owen sat next to the dryer in the laundry room, waiting until he could wear something that wasn't pink and from the eighties. The bookshelf had given him some ridiculous book that was half rubbish, half complete wild speculation. Either way, before Owen realized it, he'd read nearly half of it, all the while going back and forth between laughing at how ridiculous it was and wanting to throw the thing on the ground.
Sex with aliens to evolve the human race. Right. Owen had seen things that would make poor Erich von Däniken's head spin. Poor sod.
Now, with a cup of coffee that he'd poured from an already made pot in the kitchen-- thank god for that-- Owen sat next to the dryer in the laundry room, waiting until he could wear something that wasn't pink and from the eighties. The bookshelf had given him some ridiculous book that was half rubbish, half complete wild speculation. Either way, before Owen realized it, he'd read nearly half of it, all the while going back and forth between laughing at how ridiculous it was and wanting to throw the thing on the ground.
Sex with aliens to evolve the human race. Right. Owen had seen things that would make poor Erich von Däniken's head spin. Poor sod.