The Danger Shop was set up like a runway in Milan. There were lights! There was noise! There were stick figures with big poofy lips complaining as their hair was put up into ridiculous coifs backstage with the students
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Re: Mingle backstage!thismaskiwearAugust 20 2009, 15:35:09 UTC
Katchoo had turned away for a second to, er, adjust things beneath her top. "WHAT IS POSSIBLY CONVENIENT ABOUT ANY OF THIS?" she groused at top volume. "What -- oh, Jesusfrikkin'Christ."
Re: Mingle in the audience!thatsamilkshakeAugust 20 2009, 05:12:40 UTC
Giving Francine espresso this early in the morning was either a really good idea, or. Well.
Let's just say there was a good chance she'd be able to keep her promise to leap in front of anyone trying to take a picture of Katchoo, no matter how many people tried. And still have the energy left over to track down and document the appearance of any skinny superheroes with large ears.
Re: Mingle in the audience!thatsamilkshakeAugust 20 2009, 14:54:24 UTC
Francine eyed him, not without a grin of her own, but she shook a finger in his direction. "No taking pictures of Katchoo. I'm supposed to stop you if you try."
Re: Walk the runway!thismaskiwearAugust 20 2009, 13:39:06 UTC
Katchoo did not 'work it.'
Katchoo did not 'strut.'
In point of fact she knew perfectly well how to do both of those things, and despite the tempting prospect of blowing a few people's minds by doing exactly that, she opted not to advertise either fact.
With her luck the mind-blowing (stupid island) would be literal, and Edna would make her clean up the splatter anyway.
So there was no 'working it' on Katchoo's eyepatched-and-snarly faced stalk down the runway, unless you counted emphasizing the fist-with-extended-middle-finger logo on her uniform by duplicating the gesture with both hands.
That she could work very well, thank you. Plus she did actually look damned good in spandex. Maybe even while swearing up a storm dodging the lasers on the way back.
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. . . also, the lasers. "Lasers. Lasers, seriously, what the *@(#_*#@()%#! hell . . ."
There was dressing going on too. But mostly swearing.
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"I know!" she said. "We can't just have a normal final? It makes me so dang--"
It's not as if there was an audible sound for hulking out. Especially when Jen was, thankfully, not in her normal clothes.
"...well, that's convenient," she said.
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Oh, and drink coffee. Edna has provided espresso.
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Let's just say there was a good chance she'd be able to keep her promise to leap in front of anyone trying to take a picture of Katchoo, no matter how many people tried. And still have the energy left over to track down and document the appearance of any skinny superheroes with large ears.
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So he was there. With his camera phone. And smirking.
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Watch out for the lasers going back.
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Katchoo did not 'strut.'
In point of fact she knew perfectly well how to do both of those things, and despite the tempting prospect of blowing a few people's minds by doing exactly that, she opted not to advertise either fact.
With her luck the mind-blowing (stupid island) would be literal, and Edna would make her clean up the splatter anyway.
So there was no 'working it' on Katchoo's eyepatched-and-snarly faced stalk down the runway, unless you counted emphasizing the fist-with-extended-middle-finger logo on her uniform by duplicating the gesture with both hands.
That she could work very well, thank you. Plus she did actually look damned good in spandex. Maybe even while swearing up a storm dodging the lasers on the way back.
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Did going to church this morning make up for what Francine uttered when she got a load of that?
Possibly not.
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That is, until she tripped over her own feet and tumbled off the catwalk. Oops.
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