Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Plastic

[sapphicfragment]

WHO: Misses Atthis and Natalia
WHAT: When there are balls, there is death.
WHEN: July 15th, High Noon
WHERE: McDonna's.
RATING: E for euphemisms and Everybody's Gay for Atthis (alternatively: Everybody's Dead for Natalia)

Comments

[1/2]

[here_comes_the]

Natalia had not eaten since the Psych Ward.

That is, if the shiny, bouncy, green cubes along with the runny, grey blob next to it that occasionally twitched could be called anything that possibly resembled food. Natalia still had her doubts about its edibility. She almost preferred having the tubes in her arms with the bags of liquid which the ever annoying people in pastel informed her (during one of her more...sedated moods) were a form of nutrition.

But she did not trust the word of those who called the questionable piece of carcass on the cheap plastic tray chicken fingers. Natalia knew for a fact that chickens did not have fingers, but claws. And those items that they served her every two days unless it was Sunday (Mother’s Mysterious Medicinal Meatloaf Day! they called it - which the prisoners balked at, but reminded Natalia of Россия)...those items were not breaded claws. They certainly would have more crunch to them then

[2/2]

[here_comes_the]

That font will haunt me for the rest of my life...

[sapphicfragment]

"Good afternoon, ma'am, can I take yohshitisthatbloodThus unto Atthis did the palest of visions come blustering in through twin glass doors. It glowered with such dark intent at the dignity starved cashier that the unfortunate soul seemed instantly to freeze where he stood, as stiff and as rigid as a scraggly fir in winter chills. His fingers had paused, hovering half over the register, half at his ear as though he had been meaning to scratch it

A WILD, TWO MONTH LATE POST APPEARED!!!

[here_comes_the]

This was not a normal customer, the teenage employee realized belatedly.

Her penetrating, oh god, almost dead stare at him rather than the menu above made the newly-promoted cashier (suddenly wishing for his older, safer position of manning the deep fryer) squirm in place and check his watch to see if it was time for his lunch break yet

KURO USES DELAYED REACTION!

[sapphicfragment]

Fate surely favored the Patient, not the Brave. The Brave were doomed souls that rushed in before their time, trampling onto graveyards not battlegrounds; for the Brave man was the Beaten man. The Dead man. Atthis was the fisher king that waited for hours until it struck fast the surface of the water to pierce the fish beneath in a stellar show of predatory grace. The Patient One. The monster.

She had set her aim carefully and now, as the woman situated herself restlessly in the booth opposite and apart from Atthis, she began to mentally tick off the moments until exactly the right instant to move. The wrap was a tasteless prelude to sweeter, more substantial flavorings.

Adoration, adulation. Ode to thee, the white haired queen. Her nails dug through flimsy paper to sauce-softened pita. She ignored it.

"I think she's insane...There's paint all over her."

Atthis raised a thin brow, glancing to the pair by the pit with their heads close together.

"No that's blood. I work at a hospital darling. I know what blood looks like and that