Well, think of the other possibilities. One of your bodies goes to do the shopping, while the other stays home and reads porn. And if you get hit by a car and wake up in 1973, you've got a backup body to tell everyone you're okay.
I...I...I don't even know what to say. I think I adore you so much right now I'm speechless. Seriously. You + cuvalwen = ULTIMATE WIN. XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
I also guarantee you this is the best thing I'll read all day. XD
Just Missed [outtake from S2.03]jantalaimonMay 2 2007, 16:44:20 UTC
Sam gazed around him in wonderment. He hadn't really spent much time in confessional boxes in his life, but it seemed somehow...appropriate to the way he was feeling. Right, somehow. He wasn't even Catholic, let alone lapsed...but he thought he understood the idea. Confessional was kind of like...blogging, wasn't it?
Still, seemed awfully strange, the amount of sheer ritual involved. Comforting, after some strange fashion...he wasn't, after all, locking himself and his thoughts alone in a small box, like he usually would do when going back to his flat of an evening. Instead, he was locked in an even smaller box with a stranger. Sounds like a vice squad matter, some part of him snorted internally. Shut it, another part reprimanded the first. Which was what Sam was hoping to quell by this little visit. He'd had enough of his internal dialogue, and it had gotten so bad the scotch wasn't even doing the slightest bit to slow it down anymore
( ... )
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You know, it's for reasons like this that I fully advocate everyone on the planet being allocated two bodies. Just think of the possibilities.
Of course, it would make twin fetishes kind of redundant, but oh well.
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I shudder to think of going further though...
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I also guarantee you this is the best thing I'll read all day. XD
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(That and the staying up all night in a cold and draughty field!!!)
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I would blame 26 hours without sleep, but I fear it is just the internet that has stolen my soul!!!
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(Um, Sam/Christ anyone???)
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Still, seemed awfully strange, the amount of sheer ritual involved. Comforting, after some strange fashion...he wasn't, after all, locking himself and his thoughts alone in a small box, like he usually would do when going back to his flat of an evening. Instead, he was locked in an even smaller box with a stranger. Sounds like a vice squad matter, some part of him snorted internally. Shut it, another part reprimanded the first. Which was what Sam was hoping to quell by this little visit. He'd had enough of his internal dialogue, and it had gotten so bad the scotch wasn't even doing the slightest bit to slow it down anymore ( ... )
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