[OOC] I seem to have godmoded the fridge.
Marik's Saturday dawned hot, sticky, and bright: Indian summer held full sway over BMC's campus. Marik wasn't sure why it was called Indian summer in the first place -- what, did the Indians' weather run on a different clock than the rest of the world or something? -- but he did know one thing: weather like this, which made minds run slow and tempers run high, was perfect for nefarious deeds. Those victimized always felt jealous of their tormentors, for being able to be so active and so clever on a day especially designed to turn their brains to mush. And Marik was even working on a Saturday! Evil knew no weekends.
He sat in his desk chair, chin propped up on one hand and Rod tapping against the desk in the other, and waited for inspiration to sledgehammer him in the forehead. A plan! He had to concoct a plan so foul, so repugnant, so utterly un-fragrant that flowers would wilt in his general vicinity as he enacted it! And he knew just against whom he wanted to move, too: that morning, as he'd been in the process of teasing his hair in the mirror with Bakura at the sink next to him, Ted had had the nerve to bump him, Marik Ishtar, out of the way to brush his teeth when Bakura had been standing at the sink closer to the door! This clearly signified a direct slight and could not go unpunished. Ted should consider himself lucky nothing had happened to Marik's hairstyle as a result of this injurious shuffling. Then unholy retribution would have rained down upon him so hard it would puncture straight through an umbrella! As things stood Marik figured he'd satisfy himself with making Ted's life a hell on Earth for a day or two and then call it even.
But what to do? What, Marik wondered to the steady rhythm of his Rod tapping against the desk -- and a catchy beat, that; what song was it from? It sounded familiar...no, no, evil plan, evil plan! -- to do?
Public humiliation! Private despair! Something in the middle that'd only bother their hall! All of these were exciting scopes for a plan. Marik felt properly evil today, a sharp smirk lighting his face and a keen light in his eyes. Why, he could set a trap for Ted at each individual level! First he'd challenge Ted to a children's card game, and then....
No, no, Ted didn't play, did he? The party pooper. Could Marik force him into a children's card game? His first ever? In public! And then when he lost, in addition to the ecstatically evil plot that Marik would then enact to its fulfilliment (he could feel it coming, something was churning in the pit of this stomach, any minute now it'd rise to his head and he'd know once more why so many people feared him and so many fangirls loved him!), Ted would suffer the additional injury of being made to look like the foolish fool he was in front of his peers and comrades. Look at that! they would say. What kind of a self-government association president can't even win a simple children's card game? they would say. Down with him! Let that ravishing young villain, Marik, be our leader! they would say! --
"Yeessss, YES! I shall rule the scholastic community!" Marik jumped out of his chair in triumphant transcendence and was halfway through a burst of diabolical laughter - "Mwa-hahahahahaa-" - before bumping his knee on the desk - "ow" - and remembering the scenario was still all in his head - "oh." Crestfallen, he nursed his sore knee and sat back down, now twice as disgruntled as before. "Damn you, Ted," he swore aloud. "You will feel the wrath of my twinging kneecap!"
Goddamnit but that had a sting, just like that classic movie starring Paul Newman, whose salad dressing wasn't very good. Marik grit his teeth - at the pain, at the notion of unappetizing salad dressing, at the fact that the churning in his stomach hadn't lessened and yet no evil plan had surfaced, and at the now-doubled injuries he'd suffered because of that Ted. What was wrong with him? This wasn't going well at all! He was losing his focus, he was all over the place, he was letting precious moments of his evil Saturday go to waste, he was -
Hungry. Marik's stomach growled audibly, and he sank back in his desk chair, Rod now tapping against his own shoulder. Frigging frig on a frigstick with bacon, but he was hungry! It was like having a pit of lynxes lurking just behind his abs. Clearly this problem needed to be rectified before the creation of mind-blowingly brilliant schemes could proceed.
Standing up and favoring his good leg ("Ted has crippled me," he lamented aloud, but Bakura was out doing who-knew-what sort of rotten British things so only silence greeted his plaintive cry), Marik poked about the dorm room in search of something appetizing. He found a chocolate bar under Bakura's pillow and helped himself to it, not bothering to read that the wrapper said "consume and die, you wanker" on it in Bakura's handwriting, but chocolate alone would not suffice on this day. There was all of Mr. Tweetums' seed, but Marik wasn't a bird. That couldn't fill him....
Still eating Bakura's chocolate, Marik wandered out of the room and up the stairs to the first floor of their dorm. The tea pantry smelled, as ever, faintly of burnt popcorn, which only served to make his stomach growl more. Marik loved popcorn! It was truly the ideal snack for watching the consequences of one's wretched deeds unfold. He'd have to get some at the earliest opportunity. What was in this refrigerator...?
Pineapple juice. Marik finished his chocolate bar and unscrewed the lid, again ignoring that someone had already marked the bottle as their own. What did a villain care for such things? All the better if he nourished himself on others' supplies! He swigged at the bottle and poked around, nose wrinkled against the fact that, like all college refrigerators, this one smelled like something had died in it. He noticed a lumpy package on the floor of the fridge with Bakura's name on it, realized something HAD, and shut the doors quickly, spitting his mouthful of juice into the sink. Curse that Bakura! His evil plan to ruin the refrigerator for everyone else had backfired against his own unassuming roommate!
Still, it had been an excellent scheme. Had he left the freezer unsullied...? Marik cautiously peered into the freezer, and finding it corpse-free, opened the door wide. The cold air blasted against his face, feeling fantastic in the hot summer atmosphere. Marik closed his eyes and enjoyed the breeze for a moment, but as the tip of his nose grew cold he sniffed back a sneeze and focused again on his search for a snack.
Lo and behold, what did he have here...? Why, someone had left a perfectly good gallon of ice cream unattended in the freezer! Now that was a hunk of flavor followed by brain freeze waiting to happen. Marik tugged the carton free of the tightly-packed freezer and swung the door shut, picking up a long-handled spoon from the drying rack next to the sink. "Chocolate fudge peanut butter marshmallow caramel walnut?" he read aloud on the ice-cream lid. "Why not just call it Cardiac Arrest In a Carton and have done with it? This is PERFECT!"
Prying open the lid, he dug into the ice-cream (never been touched! How serendipitous!) with the spoon and sampled a large, dripping, fudgy bite. "Flying *EFF*!" he hollered, then attacked the dessert with a vigor. How could anything be so good? Rich and cold and creamy and smooth and....oh, Marik wanted to marry this gallon of ice cream, or at least take it out on a couple dinner dates before deciding they both just weren't right for the long-run, but hadn't they had lots of fun while it lasted?.
"I don't know where you came from, honey," he professed to the carton as he carried it back down the stairs to his room, holding it out before him in both hands, "but don't ever go back."
This was the best possible turn of events. Marik didn't care that already the area between his brows was growing tight with the biggest onset of brain-freeze the world might have ever seen. Any pain was worth it for this! With this ice cream fueling his good spirits, exciting his tongue, and filling his stomach, he would be unstoppable!
He flopped down on his bed, fluffed pillows squashed beneath his frame, and sucked caramel off of his spoon before mining for more ice cream again. Ooh, ow, his head was pinching, but that was all right because it'd just squeeze the evil plots out of his brain faster. So what would he do to Ted? He would -- well, you know what he WANTED to do? He wanted to eat this ice cream in front of everyone he hated and not give them any at all, not even if they begged, not even if they said "please". No, Marik amended to himself, not even if they said "pretty please". And he'd lick the spoon cruelly - like so, to show off how delicious a treat everyone else was missing out on. No matter what they ate afterwards to make themselves feel better, it could never compare to what they imagined the ice cream Marik'd had would have tasted like. The treat they never ate would haunt them for the rest of their lives, ruining their ability to enjoy all other ice creams!
That was it! Marik sat up in bed, barely missing adding a head-bump to his reportoire of evil-plan-induced injuries. He would discover exactly what Ted liked to eat more than anything else in the world, and then - provided it wasn't something disgusting like meat or lima beans - luxoriously help himself to grandoise portions thereof with his enemy watching! This plan was cruelty incarnate, especially if he chose to enact it on a night when the dining hall food sucked and there was nothing on campus worth eating at all! And it had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with being bumped out of a sink, so his foe would never see it coming! Could a plan get any better than this?!
"NO!" Marik yelled aloud in response to his own question. "No, it could not!" Beaming sadistically from ear to ear, he helped himself to a particularly decadent spoonful of ice cream as a reward for being such a mastermind. So how to best discern what Ted most enjoyed for dinner? Careful monitoring of him via a local Steve, perhaps. There wasn't a single information-based problem that good old-fashioned stalking couldn't solve!
Oh, oh! Marik swirled the spoon around in the ice cream, mashing it up merrily as idea upon idea collided and fused in his mind. And then, with his enemy thus distracted by nutritional deprivation, then they would play the children's card game in public! With his mind on his stomach and not on the game Ted couldn't help but lose! Standing, Marik began walking in circles around the rug, feet following the looping patterns of heiroglyphs. The ice cream he'd mashed up was more liquid than solid now, so he tilted his head back and poured it into his mouth as a chocolate smoothie of devilishness. "And that's just the beginning, you fool!" he declared to an imaginary opponent, brandishing his spoon in triumph. "That's just the beginning-"
"You're finished," Bakura informed Marik, voice lilting slightly as he walked by and, in one smooth motion, removed the ice-cream gallon from Marik's hands. Marik kept walking for about five paces before realizing all the things now wrong with the situation. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"When the hell did you get here?" he demanded, whirling on Bakura, who had somehow managed to nick the spoon too and was now, outrage of outrages, sampling Marik's chocolate fudge marshmallow caramel walnut ice cream. "That was uncalled-for, Fluffy! Return unto me my ice-cream carton!"
"Oh, with you and food it's finders-keepers, isn't it?" Bakura asked, holding up something in his free hand, the carton wrapped possessively in one arm. Marik squinted at the crumpled paper in his roommate's grasp: the chocolate wrapper from his initial food search. "I simply returned the favor."
"Your measly chocolate bar and my ice cream of enemy-annihilation are entirely different!" Marik protested. "I was having really good ideas eating that, Bakura. Give it back!"
"No," Bakura responded simply, licking at the spoon. "I was using that," Marik pointed out, hoping to disgust Bakura into handing it back over. "I know," Bakura replied simply, unfazed. "If you were going to make me sick physically, not just mentally and emotionally, it would have happened by now."
"Well, uh..." With the ice cream gone only the brain freeze remained! Marik struggled to overcome the pinching and the needles in his skull. "It's just loaded with calories and the wrong kinds of fat. You finish that carton you'll balloon up into a big plushy kitty."
"Good thing I saved you from that fate then, isn't it?" Bakura asked, a sharp, pleased edge in his voice. "My body-mass index is technically too low. I could stand a few extra pounds."
"Bakura, I command you to return my ice cream to me!" Marik demanded, thrusting his Rod in Bakura's face (he'd slung it back into his belt-loop upon needing both hands to eat). "Just friggin' - friggin' do it!"
"Ah, but this isn't your ice cream," Bakura pointed out, holding the carton up to peer at the bottom. "You see here? The owner wrote his room number on the bottom. Null-null-two."
"002?" Marik frowned. "00 is our hall. That's--"
His head felt like it was about to split, and his stomach lurched. Marik leaned against the bedpost, face wrenched in pain. He couldn't have the same taste in anything as that boy! It'd go against his entire nature!
Yet on the other hand, wasn't this actually an advantage? Marik was even better at taking vengeance than he himself had known! Already his quest to deprive his nemesis of delicious nourishment was underway!
He stared longingly at the ice cream in Bakura's hands, and noticed that the nutrition facts were facing him. Certain numbers registered through his stare. Marik stared at them some more. Really...? And....how many servings per container....?
"New plan, Bakura," he offered, picking up a second spoon. "You can help me eat the ice cream."
Bakura shrugged and headed for the door. "I'm watching a film," he said, waving a DVD casually in the air; Marik couldn't read it, save that the cover was black and the writing was blood-red, but every one of Bakura's DVDs shared the same splattered aesthetic. "Join me if you'll be silent."
"I shall consume our ice cream in the UTMOST silence," Marik reassured his roommate, following him out of the room. Wouldn't that be nice? The two of them, sitting on the couch sharing a movie and a tub of ice cream together. Just two no-gooders, delighting in their own no-goodness and each other's....and it'd been gobs of time since he'd even watched a movie with Bakura to begin with....
Wait a minute.
"BAKURA, ARE YOU PROPOSITIONING ME?" Anyone walking by the side of the building might have heard Marik's query, even through the solid stone walls. "GIVE IT UP, FOR *EFF*'S SAKE! I was going to share my evil plan with you-- and the ice cream -- but I take it back. Geeeez, and you -- my spoon -- EEEEEWWWW, BAKUUUUUUUUUURRRRA!"
Muffled noises from room 002 indicated that the resident within had just been given a severe startling from the unexpected explosion of noise from the end of the hall. Marik supposed he had to take a small victory where he could get it. For him, even his delicious carton of ice cream had now been insufferably ruined.
He sat in his desk chair, chin propped up on one hand and Rod tapping against the desk in the other, and waited for inspiration to sledgehammer him in the forehead. A plan! He had to concoct a plan so foul, so repugnant, so utterly un-fragrant that flowers would wilt in his general vicinity as he enacted it! And he knew just against whom he wanted to move, too: that morning, as he'd been in the process of teasing his hair in the mirror with Bakura at the sink next to him, Ted had had the nerve to bump him, Marik Ishtar, out of the way to brush his teeth when Bakura had been standing at the sink closer to the door! This clearly signified a direct slight and could not go unpunished. Ted should consider himself lucky nothing had happened to Marik's hairstyle as a result of this injurious shuffling. Then unholy retribution would have rained down upon him so hard it would puncture straight through an umbrella! As things stood Marik figured he'd satisfy himself with making Ted's life a hell on Earth for a day or two and then call it even.
But what to do? What, Marik wondered to the steady rhythm of his Rod tapping against the desk -- and a catchy beat, that; what song was it from? It sounded familiar...no, no, evil plan, evil plan! -- to do?
Public humiliation! Private despair! Something in the middle that'd only bother their hall! All of these were exciting scopes for a plan. Marik felt properly evil today, a sharp smirk lighting his face and a keen light in his eyes. Why, he could set a trap for Ted at each individual level! First he'd challenge Ted to a children's card game, and then....
No, no, Ted didn't play, did he? The party pooper. Could Marik force him into a children's card game? His first ever? In public! And then when he lost, in addition to the ecstatically evil plot that Marik would then enact to its fulfilliment (he could feel it coming, something was churning in the pit of this stomach, any minute now it'd rise to his head and he'd know once more why so many people feared him and so many fangirls loved him!), Ted would suffer the additional injury of being made to look like the foolish fool he was in front of his peers and comrades. Look at that! they would say. What kind of a self-government association president can't even win a simple children's card game? they would say. Down with him! Let that ravishing young villain, Marik, be our leader! they would say! --
"Yeessss, YES! I shall rule the scholastic community!" Marik jumped out of his chair in triumphant transcendence and was halfway through a burst of diabolical laughter - "Mwa-hahahahahaa-" - before bumping his knee on the desk - "ow" - and remembering the scenario was still all in his head - "oh." Crestfallen, he nursed his sore knee and sat back down, now twice as disgruntled as before. "Damn you, Ted," he swore aloud. "You will feel the wrath of my twinging kneecap!"
Goddamnit but that had a sting, just like that classic movie starring Paul Newman, whose salad dressing wasn't very good. Marik grit his teeth - at the pain, at the notion of unappetizing salad dressing, at the fact that the churning in his stomach hadn't lessened and yet no evil plan had surfaced, and at the now-doubled injuries he'd suffered because of that Ted. What was wrong with him? This wasn't going well at all! He was losing his focus, he was all over the place, he was letting precious moments of his evil Saturday go to waste, he was -
Hungry. Marik's stomach growled audibly, and he sank back in his desk chair, Rod now tapping against his own shoulder. Frigging frig on a frigstick with bacon, but he was hungry! It was like having a pit of lynxes lurking just behind his abs. Clearly this problem needed to be rectified before the creation of mind-blowingly brilliant schemes could proceed.
Standing up and favoring his good leg ("Ted has crippled me," he lamented aloud, but Bakura was out doing who-knew-what sort of rotten British things so only silence greeted his plaintive cry), Marik poked about the dorm room in search of something appetizing. He found a chocolate bar under Bakura's pillow and helped himself to it, not bothering to read that the wrapper said "consume and die, you wanker" on it in Bakura's handwriting, but chocolate alone would not suffice on this day. There was all of Mr. Tweetums' seed, but Marik wasn't a bird. That couldn't fill him....
Still eating Bakura's chocolate, Marik wandered out of the room and up the stairs to the first floor of their dorm. The tea pantry smelled, as ever, faintly of burnt popcorn, which only served to make his stomach growl more. Marik loved popcorn! It was truly the ideal snack for watching the consequences of one's wretched deeds unfold. He'd have to get some at the earliest opportunity. What was in this refrigerator...?
Pineapple juice. Marik finished his chocolate bar and unscrewed the lid, again ignoring that someone had already marked the bottle as their own. What did a villain care for such things? All the better if he nourished himself on others' supplies! He swigged at the bottle and poked around, nose wrinkled against the fact that, like all college refrigerators, this one smelled like something had died in it. He noticed a lumpy package on the floor of the fridge with Bakura's name on it, realized something HAD, and shut the doors quickly, spitting his mouthful of juice into the sink. Curse that Bakura! His evil plan to ruin the refrigerator for everyone else had backfired against his own unassuming roommate!
Still, it had been an excellent scheme. Had he left the freezer unsullied...? Marik cautiously peered into the freezer, and finding it corpse-free, opened the door wide. The cold air blasted against his face, feeling fantastic in the hot summer atmosphere. Marik closed his eyes and enjoyed the breeze for a moment, but as the tip of his nose grew cold he sniffed back a sneeze and focused again on his search for a snack.
Lo and behold, what did he have here...? Why, someone had left a perfectly good gallon of ice cream unattended in the freezer! Now that was a hunk of flavor followed by brain freeze waiting to happen. Marik tugged the carton free of the tightly-packed freezer and swung the door shut, picking up a long-handled spoon from the drying rack next to the sink. "Chocolate fudge peanut butter marshmallow caramel walnut?" he read aloud on the ice-cream lid. "Why not just call it Cardiac Arrest In a Carton and have done with it? This is PERFECT!"
Prying open the lid, he dug into the ice-cream (never been touched! How serendipitous!) with the spoon and sampled a large, dripping, fudgy bite. "Flying *EFF*!" he hollered, then attacked the dessert with a vigor. How could anything be so good? Rich and cold and creamy and smooth and....oh, Marik wanted to marry this gallon of ice cream, or at least take it out on a couple dinner dates before deciding they both just weren't right for the long-run, but hadn't they had lots of fun while it lasted?.
"I don't know where you came from, honey," he professed to the carton as he carried it back down the stairs to his room, holding it out before him in both hands, "but don't ever go back."
This was the best possible turn of events. Marik didn't care that already the area between his brows was growing tight with the biggest onset of brain-freeze the world might have ever seen. Any pain was worth it for this! With this ice cream fueling his good spirits, exciting his tongue, and filling his stomach, he would be unstoppable!
He flopped down on his bed, fluffed pillows squashed beneath his frame, and sucked caramel off of his spoon before mining for more ice cream again. Ooh, ow, his head was pinching, but that was all right because it'd just squeeze the evil plots out of his brain faster. So what would he do to Ted? He would -- well, you know what he WANTED to do? He wanted to eat this ice cream in front of everyone he hated and not give them any at all, not even if they begged, not even if they said "please". No, Marik amended to himself, not even if they said "pretty please". And he'd lick the spoon cruelly - like so, to show off how delicious a treat everyone else was missing out on. No matter what they ate afterwards to make themselves feel better, it could never compare to what they imagined the ice cream Marik'd had would have tasted like. The treat they never ate would haunt them for the rest of their lives, ruining their ability to enjoy all other ice creams!
That was it! Marik sat up in bed, barely missing adding a head-bump to his reportoire of evil-plan-induced injuries. He would discover exactly what Ted liked to eat more than anything else in the world, and then - provided it wasn't something disgusting like meat or lima beans - luxoriously help himself to grandoise portions thereof with his enemy watching! This plan was cruelty incarnate, especially if he chose to enact it on a night when the dining hall food sucked and there was nothing on campus worth eating at all! And it had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with being bumped out of a sink, so his foe would never see it coming! Could a plan get any better than this?!
"NO!" Marik yelled aloud in response to his own question. "No, it could not!" Beaming sadistically from ear to ear, he helped himself to a particularly decadent spoonful of ice cream as a reward for being such a mastermind. So how to best discern what Ted most enjoyed for dinner? Careful monitoring of him via a local Steve, perhaps. There wasn't a single information-based problem that good old-fashioned stalking couldn't solve!
Oh, oh! Marik swirled the spoon around in the ice cream, mashing it up merrily as idea upon idea collided and fused in his mind. And then, with his enemy thus distracted by nutritional deprivation, then they would play the children's card game in public! With his mind on his stomach and not on the game Ted couldn't help but lose! Standing, Marik began walking in circles around the rug, feet following the looping patterns of heiroglyphs. The ice cream he'd mashed up was more liquid than solid now, so he tilted his head back and poured it into his mouth as a chocolate smoothie of devilishness. "And that's just the beginning, you fool!" he declared to an imaginary opponent, brandishing his spoon in triumph. "That's just the beginning-"
"You're finished," Bakura informed Marik, voice lilting slightly as he walked by and, in one smooth motion, removed the ice-cream gallon from Marik's hands. Marik kept walking for about five paces before realizing all the things now wrong with the situation. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"When the hell did you get here?" he demanded, whirling on Bakura, who had somehow managed to nick the spoon too and was now, outrage of outrages, sampling Marik's chocolate fudge marshmallow caramel walnut ice cream. "That was uncalled-for, Fluffy! Return unto me my ice-cream carton!"
"Oh, with you and food it's finders-keepers, isn't it?" Bakura asked, holding up something in his free hand, the carton wrapped possessively in one arm. Marik squinted at the crumpled paper in his roommate's grasp: the chocolate wrapper from his initial food search. "I simply returned the favor."
"Your measly chocolate bar and my ice cream of enemy-annihilation are entirely different!" Marik protested. "I was having really good ideas eating that, Bakura. Give it back!"
"No," Bakura responded simply, licking at the spoon. "I was using that," Marik pointed out, hoping to disgust Bakura into handing it back over. "I know," Bakura replied simply, unfazed. "If you were going to make me sick physically, not just mentally and emotionally, it would have happened by now."
"Well, uh..." With the ice cream gone only the brain freeze remained! Marik struggled to overcome the pinching and the needles in his skull. "It's just loaded with calories and the wrong kinds of fat. You finish that carton you'll balloon up into a big plushy kitty."
"Good thing I saved you from that fate then, isn't it?" Bakura asked, a sharp, pleased edge in his voice. "My body-mass index is technically too low. I could stand a few extra pounds."
"Bakura, I command you to return my ice cream to me!" Marik demanded, thrusting his Rod in Bakura's face (he'd slung it back into his belt-loop upon needing both hands to eat). "Just friggin' - friggin' do it!"
"Ah, but this isn't your ice cream," Bakura pointed out, holding the carton up to peer at the bottom. "You see here? The owner wrote his room number on the bottom. Null-null-two."
"002?" Marik frowned. "00 is our hall. That's--"
His head felt like it was about to split, and his stomach lurched. Marik leaned against the bedpost, face wrenched in pain. He couldn't have the same taste in anything as that boy! It'd go against his entire nature!
Yet on the other hand, wasn't this actually an advantage? Marik was even better at taking vengeance than he himself had known! Already his quest to deprive his nemesis of delicious nourishment was underway!
He stared longingly at the ice cream in Bakura's hands, and noticed that the nutrition facts were facing him. Certain numbers registered through his stare. Marik stared at them some more. Really...? And....how many servings per container....?
"New plan, Bakura," he offered, picking up a second spoon. "You can help me eat the ice cream."
Bakura shrugged and headed for the door. "I'm watching a film," he said, waving a DVD casually in the air; Marik couldn't read it, save that the cover was black and the writing was blood-red, but every one of Bakura's DVDs shared the same splattered aesthetic. "Join me if you'll be silent."
"I shall consume our ice cream in the UTMOST silence," Marik reassured his roommate, following him out of the room. Wouldn't that be nice? The two of them, sitting on the couch sharing a movie and a tub of ice cream together. Just two no-gooders, delighting in their own no-goodness and each other's....and it'd been gobs of time since he'd even watched a movie with Bakura to begin with....
Wait a minute.
"BAKURA, ARE YOU PROPOSITIONING ME?" Anyone walking by the side of the building might have heard Marik's query, even through the solid stone walls. "GIVE IT UP, FOR *EFF*'S SAKE! I was going to share my evil plan with you-- and the ice cream -- but I take it back. Geeeez, and you -- my spoon -- EEEEEWWWW, BAKUUUUUUUUUURRRRA!"
Muffled noises from room 002 indicated that the resident within had just been given a severe startling from the unexpected explosion of noise from the end of the hall. Marik supposed he had to take a small victory where he could get it. For him, even his delicious carton of ice cream had now been insufferably ruined.