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Duct tapes Ahren mouth.:: reaches under the cot and extricates a cricket bat and twirls this from side to side through her fingers, using the knuckle of the thumb of her free hand to push her spectacles back into place... ::
Leave my uncouth lusts out of this, E.
This is about fandoms, let's keep it about fandoms, are we green?
:: reaches under the cot and extricates a cricket bat and twirls this from side to side through her fingers, using the knuckle of the thumb of her free hand to push her spectacles back into place... ::
Leave my uncouth lusts out of this, E.
This is about fandoms, let's keep it about fandoms, are we green?
Stares at him.*pulls it off.*
Well fi.. ow- fine. I guess I am curious about what the hell they're arguing about exactly anyway.
JUST START ALREADY YOU FUCKS.
I only have a copy of "Old Man's Cave."
Somebody at work borrowed my complete volume and still hasn't read it, still hasn't returned it, so I wouldn't have to give up much.
:: bringing the bat up to her shoulder she grimaces, narrows her gaze ::
Besides.
McFARLANE EPITOMISES EVERYTHING BAD ABOUT '90's COMICS ANTIHEROES!
:: and with that, she slashes the flat of the bat for the side of his face... ::
*And is promptly caught off guard and spins in place from the slash across his face, looking dazed as he points up at cartoonish stars dancing around his head* Look, stars! Ready when you are, Raoul.
*Collapses*
I second this opinion.That's it? Pathetic.
:: stands there blinking for a moment and lowers the bat ::
Oh, erm.
I suppose I should say something about men always having a quick finish and then taking a nap?
But for some reason I, uh.
:: pokes Eazy with the bat, wondering if he's faking ::
"Victor Hugo once got so mad he threw a baseball through a dog."
That scene....did amuse me.... *He says through his fog of unconsciousness, twitching slightly from the poking, until finally stirring awake*
Ow...what hit me... *rubbing his head and then looking up, narrowing his eyes* Oh, right. The cheap shot artist. You better not have cracked my goggles.
*glances over once more* And no comments from the peanut gallery.
It was a fandom argument taking the form of a metaphorical dukefest. :: frowns, offering E a hand up ::
Each virtual physical strike is accompanied by a statement of opinion regarding the other's pop-cultural tastes. Like if I were to slam Pearl Forrester for ruining Clayton, I'd call that out at the same time as a left hook.
(Seriously, I didn't expect that one to get your goat so quick.)
And I'd say that I somewhat agree with this, but found her a lot more tolerable once it was her, Bobo and Observer. Dr. Forrester just wasn't the same without TV's Frank to act as his dimwitted assistant, though.
But I'd also say you're still a big meanie. Especially after your crack about men not lasting long. *glares and ignores the offer of help, instead crawling off to curl up on a mattress and soothe his broken pride*
*Comes in, locks down, turns the lights off and buries in the bed*
Nothing is ever, ever simple.
Hey. I'm being nice. I'm never nice. Appreciate it. Or else.