dudeimbatman | 2nd Hunt [Voice] Curious cats and other things

Current Mood: cranky

Entry tags:

2nd Hunt [Voice] Curious cats and other things

Okay so I've read the guidebook, I've gotten the memos and I realize I can't get people here. The City either brings them here or they don't. I'm not even going to start on how fucked up that is.

So what about things. Like what would I have to do to get my car here?

EDIT

HEY DEITIES...LET'S MAKE A DEAL

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh good. You know, it's quite amusing when played on kazoo and banjo. Just for the record.

And now that will haunt your nightmares forever.

And I think that offer will haunt mine.

How Freudian, how internal, that great suspension bridge inward, driven over, driven to madness. Cars, a parade seven days a week, the most godawful of trade-ins: motorized, metal extensions of the body, of the family, of what the whole life must be like, out there so naked for anybody, open for a stranger to look at, a frame cockeyed, rusty underneath, fender repainted in a shade just off enough to depress the value if not the viewer himself, inside smelling hopelessly of children, supermarket booze, two, sometimes three generations of cigarette smokers, or only of dust--and when the car is swept out there is the actual residue of those lives, and there is no way of telling what things have been truly refused (when so little comes by, out of fear most of it has to be taken and kept) and what has simply (perhaps tragically) been lost: clipped coupons promising savings of $0.05 or $0.10, trading stamps, pink flyers advertising specials at the markets, butts, tooth-shy combs, help-wanted ads, Yellow Pages torn from the phone book, rags of old underwear or dresses that already are period costumes, for wiping one's own breath off the inside of a windshield with so one can see whatever it is, a movie, a woman, or a car one covets, a cop who might pull one over for a drill, all the bits and pieces coated uniformly, like a salad of despair, in a gray dressing of ash, condensed exhaust, dust, body wastes--one has to look.

Four weeks of absolutely no Id (if you will), no reproductive drive (if you will), in exchange for one particular and peculiar and spectacular and especial automobile.

As long as the scarring is mutual.

Damn...alright. Fine. 4 weeks.

[ooc: Yay! So glad you liked it. And that totally works. It'll give Dean something to do since he's not 'doing' anything else]

Are we going to compare scars now? Oh dear.

Four weeks, but you'll get the car immediately, as best as it can be delivered. And once the car arrives, the sex drive will depart. And that is a distinctly Freudian image, isn't it? Quite American, the car as genitalia, forever phallic--but I'm rambling.

I don't really like Freud anyway.

Two signatures: yours and mine and the deal is done.

Only if we're having beer too.

Yeah. Freud was a sick fuck.

Thank friggin' god. We don't have to kiss.

[ooc: :) You rock. Thanks]

Only if it's decent beer.

In one breath you hate Freud, in the next you're talking homosexuality. I'm not sure what to make of you.

Either way, the deal is done.

I grew out of drinking the cheap shit a long time ago.

Yeah. I'm a mystery.

Not such a mystery as you think.

I've got layers that go deep...

Okay so I'm full of shit. I'm okay with that.

So it goes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

2nd Hunt [Voice] Curious cats and other things

|| Deity Filter ||

Re: || Deity Filter ||

|| Deity Filter ||

Re: || Deity Filter ||

|| Deity Filter ||

Re: || Deity Filter ||

|| Deity Filter ||

Re: || Deity Filter ||

|| Deity Filter ||