(Untitled)

[randomsbastard]

Martin is out by the lake. He's not drunk, but he's working on it. Scotch, not Atlantean.

"...Pole-smoking, donkey-molesting, crotch-smelling, cock-guzzling, penis-nibbling, cunt-brained scuzzbucket. Window licking, baboon-fondling, crotch-slurping, dick-sucking, pimple-nibbling, shithead..."

From the sounds of it, he could go on all night.

Comments

[underwater_owl]

Hes father can move awfully quietly when he wants to.

He's behind him.

"Martin?"

[randomsbastard]

"So it seems."

He says, with another instance of alcohol abuse. No good scotch should be treated like that,

"Assuming, of course, that I still exist in any place inside the fucking Pattern."

[underwater_owl]

"What?"

Gentle hands try to take the bottle from him.

"Explain before you get too smashed for coherency, love. What's happening?"

[randomsbastard]

"Your boy-toy isn't my mother."

He lets Random take that one, and opens another without ceremony,

"And you haven't even met her yet, let alone screwed her."