(Untitled)

[astigmatamartyr]

This is a very confused looking nineteen year old bleach blond from the French Quarter. Be gentle, he's new here.

... okay, where the fuck did the boat go and what the fuck was in that weed?

Typist: Soren Carruthers, from Exquisite Corpse by Poppy Z. Brite. Enjoy!

Comments

[hellflowsover]

Nothing and nowhere good.

Did you check the lake?

[astigmatamartyr]

Bayou but... *shakes his head* I don't see the bayou either.

[hellflowsover]

Not the lake you lost it on. Did you check on the lake?

[astigmatamartyr]

Is... there a lake here? Wherever here is?

[alwayshaveperu]

You lost the boat. Lose anything else?

[astigmatamartyr]

My joint and my mind?

[alwayshaveperu]

This your first time?

[astigmatamartyr]

... first time?

[thizzledance]

*don't ask, I didn't know he was alive again either* Hey, dude, welcome to the crazy!

[astigmatamartyr]

*oou, cute guy. we like.* Thanks, I think? I'm Soren.

[thizzledance]

I'm Spoink!

[astigmatamartyr]

Good to meet you, Spoink. Where you from?

[it_took_five]

You look very lost.

[astigmatamartyr]

I feel very lost.

[it_took_five]

Maybe you should sit down, get oriented. Things are a bit of a mess around here right now.

[nursegavin]

That's about what most people's reaction is. Usually not with a boat, though. And come to think of it, only occasionally with weed. Without. Whichever. Anyway, it's confusing as hell, and no one's going to be able to explain. It's best to resign yourself to having no idea what's going on.

[astigmatamartyr]

... great. That's -- reassuring, thank you.

[nursegavin]

I figured I'd go with the truthful but pessimistic angle. *wry grin*

[astigmatamartyr]

*looks amused* Good to know you have things in perspective. I'm Soren, by the way.