Post by Murdoc on May 9, 2006 16:18:20 GMT -5
...uhm....sweetheart?!
[His voice was confused. You could literally SEE the puzzlement in his words as they called out over the roar of the vacuum cleaner. The outlet residing right next to him, he lifts his left leg and pulls the plug from the socket with a light flick of his foot. His eyes, however, remained glued to the table before him.]
[Fixated on the sight before him, he just stares quietly. For a rare instance in his life, Marcus Murdoc is speechless. His arms raising just a bit, he crosses them underneath his pectoral muscles as he tilts his head. First to the left, then to the right...his dark hair spilling to the same side. It wasn't long before the woman vacuuming in the other room entered into the kitchen, cursing the shortness of the cord. Her eyes following the cord all the way to his foot, she looks up and laughs giddily.]
Well well well. Look what the cat drug in. I'll have to punish him...bringing roadkill into the house.
[Her acerbic wit only managing to register a tiny blip on his radar(the blip resulting in a lightning-fast flip of the middle finger), he continues to look at the object much like one would size up a piece of artwork.]
Hey...uh...babe. What's this...?
What's what?
THIS.
[Eyes placed rather firmly on the table before him, it wasn't long before her eyes spotted what he was speaking of. And...for some reason...she didn't seem as perplexed by the object as he.]
[With a shaky hand, he picks up the glass dish that the item had commandeered and begins to stare at it up close and personal. Maybe it was a spore of some sort. He had seen some huge ones on The National Geographic channel. Spores that grew to sizes that dwarfed even THIS thing.]
[Or maybe it's a fungus. A fungus like the ones in the Amazon that made the trunks of trees look like twigs. But why had it showed up on this dish? Maybe she hadn't cleaned it well...missed a spot or two. Maybe it had come from outer space. It looked like a space pod from almost. If he squinted his eyes, he could see it as clear as day.]
[He even thought he could see it rise and fall...almost as if it were....breathing. Was that possible?! Grabbing a nearby butter knife that lay on the counter, gleaming in the sunlight that rained in through a nearby window, he holds it rather tightly in his right hand. His left arm outstretched, keeping the thing out from his body and face, warily eyeing it as one would eye a wild, dangerous animal on their arm. And just as he's to bring the knife plunging into its' oozing and slimy looking gut...]
It's a casserole.
Do what?!
[Obviously surprised at her comment, he nearly fumbles the dish to the table as she snatches it from his hands and sets it lovingly on the table once again. His eyes as wide as saucers, he can feel his mouth hang agape ever so slightly. He couldn't believe his ears. She was planning on eating that...thing...that only scant moments ago, he believed to be poised to take control of the Earth, one kitchen at a time.]
A...casserole? Babe, babe...let's think about this for a second. Did you get this from a COOKBOOK? Was there a picture that was along with it? ...cause I bet it doesn't look like that...!
Oh stop. It's fine. It's got chicken, green beans, and carrots in it. It's HEALTHY.
You know...I don't really feel comfortable talking in front of the...you know what...[Here, Murdoc points with great subtlety at the casserole in the middle of the table]...so I'm just gonna duck into the living-
Oh no you're not, Mister. I'm vacuuming damnit and I won't have you tracking dirt and dust all over my clean house. You sit your ass right down in here and I'll be done in a second. We'll have a nice dinner together. Just you and me, for once.
[And just as Murdoc opens his mouth to speak his rebuttal, she's gone yet again. Half of him wanting to grumble and snort and curse her for turning her back on him and leaving him in here, the other half wants to follow her into the living room to escape the listening radius of said casserole. If that WAS a casserole. He wasn't too convinced. He'd seen casseroles...and they sure didn't look like that.]
[And now he had to EAT the thing?!]
[The very though nearly brought a pitiful whine of a whimper to his throat. As he sits down at the head of the table, he continues to eyeball the lumpy, mushy mass in front of him. Without warning...he gets a sudden flash. A simple flicker...a snippet of an image.]
[Trauma 45. He could see Jason Willard and Loco both, lying in the middle of the ring. And what's worse...he could see their faces superimposed on the ugly and hideous mass of casserole that lay before him. In an eerie sort of way...he could liken it to their bruised...swollen...and bleeding faces. The thought doing nothing to satisfy his apprehension about making a meal of this....''appetizing-looking'' dish, he slides his chair a bit farther away from the table.]
[Still clutching the dull butter knife in his hand, he eyes the loaf of mystery calmly. The tip of the knife pointed directly at the casserole's center of mass, within an instant the blade is plunged deep into the belly of the beast. A bit of the sauce bubbling to the surface from the inside...even a droplet or two bursting into the air and landing on his cheek, he yelps and quickly raises his hand to wipe his face as he leaves the knife stuck into the casserole.]
[With an uneasy feeling, he continues to watch the pile as he pulls the knife from within. Holding the knife, he looks at the contents of the casserole that remained on the knife. Curiously leaning the blade of the knife close to his nostrils...he sniffs lightly. Blinking...he calmly thinks to himself.]
-Okay. This thing has no odor...it's BLEEDING...and it looks like Tha UnHoly Alliance after a patented Prophet-beatdown-and-BBQ...-
...You said this was a casserole, right?!
*~FIN~*
[His voice was confused. You could literally SEE the puzzlement in his words as they called out over the roar of the vacuum cleaner. The outlet residing right next to him, he lifts his left leg and pulls the plug from the socket with a light flick of his foot. His eyes, however, remained glued to the table before him.]
[Fixated on the sight before him, he just stares quietly. For a rare instance in his life, Marcus Murdoc is speechless. His arms raising just a bit, he crosses them underneath his pectoral muscles as he tilts his head. First to the left, then to the right...his dark hair spilling to the same side. It wasn't long before the woman vacuuming in the other room entered into the kitchen, cursing the shortness of the cord. Her eyes following the cord all the way to his foot, she looks up and laughs giddily.]
Well well well. Look what the cat drug in. I'll have to punish him...bringing roadkill into the house.
[Her acerbic wit only managing to register a tiny blip on his radar(the blip resulting in a lightning-fast flip of the middle finger), he continues to look at the object much like one would size up a piece of artwork.]
Hey...uh...babe. What's this...?
What's what?
THIS.
[Eyes placed rather firmly on the table before him, it wasn't long before her eyes spotted what he was speaking of. And...for some reason...she didn't seem as perplexed by the object as he.]
[With a shaky hand, he picks up the glass dish that the item had commandeered and begins to stare at it up close and personal. Maybe it was a spore of some sort. He had seen some huge ones on The National Geographic channel. Spores that grew to sizes that dwarfed even THIS thing.]
[Or maybe it's a fungus. A fungus like the ones in the Amazon that made the trunks of trees look like twigs. But why had it showed up on this dish? Maybe she hadn't cleaned it well...missed a spot or two. Maybe it had come from outer space. It looked like a space pod from almost. If he squinted his eyes, he could see it as clear as day.]
[He even thought he could see it rise and fall...almost as if it were....breathing. Was that possible?! Grabbing a nearby butter knife that lay on the counter, gleaming in the sunlight that rained in through a nearby window, he holds it rather tightly in his right hand. His left arm outstretched, keeping the thing out from his body and face, warily eyeing it as one would eye a wild, dangerous animal on their arm. And just as he's to bring the knife plunging into its' oozing and slimy looking gut...]
It's a casserole.
Do what?!
[Obviously surprised at her comment, he nearly fumbles the dish to the table as she snatches it from his hands and sets it lovingly on the table once again. His eyes as wide as saucers, he can feel his mouth hang agape ever so slightly. He couldn't believe his ears. She was planning on eating that...thing...that only scant moments ago, he believed to be poised to take control of the Earth, one kitchen at a time.]
A...casserole? Babe, babe...let's think about this for a second. Did you get this from a COOKBOOK? Was there a picture that was along with it? ...cause I bet it doesn't look like that...!
Oh stop. It's fine. It's got chicken, green beans, and carrots in it. It's HEALTHY.
You know...I don't really feel comfortable talking in front of the...you know what...[Here, Murdoc points with great subtlety at the casserole in the middle of the table]...so I'm just gonna duck into the living-
Oh no you're not, Mister. I'm vacuuming damnit and I won't have you tracking dirt and dust all over my clean house. You sit your ass right down in here and I'll be done in a second. We'll have a nice dinner together. Just you and me, for once.
[And just as Murdoc opens his mouth to speak his rebuttal, she's gone yet again. Half of him wanting to grumble and snort and curse her for turning her back on him and leaving him in here, the other half wants to follow her into the living room to escape the listening radius of said casserole. If that WAS a casserole. He wasn't too convinced. He'd seen casseroles...and they sure didn't look like that.]
[And now he had to EAT the thing?!]
[The very though nearly brought a pitiful whine of a whimper to his throat. As he sits down at the head of the table, he continues to eyeball the lumpy, mushy mass in front of him. Without warning...he gets a sudden flash. A simple flicker...a snippet of an image.]
[Trauma 45. He could see Jason Willard and Loco both, lying in the middle of the ring. And what's worse...he could see their faces superimposed on the ugly and hideous mass of casserole that lay before him. In an eerie sort of way...he could liken it to their bruised...swollen...and bleeding faces. The thought doing nothing to satisfy his apprehension about making a meal of this....''appetizing-looking'' dish, he slides his chair a bit farther away from the table.]
[Still clutching the dull butter knife in his hand, he eyes the loaf of mystery calmly. The tip of the knife pointed directly at the casserole's center of mass, within an instant the blade is plunged deep into the belly of the beast. A bit of the sauce bubbling to the surface from the inside...even a droplet or two bursting into the air and landing on his cheek, he yelps and quickly raises his hand to wipe his face as he leaves the knife stuck into the casserole.]
[With an uneasy feeling, he continues to watch the pile as he pulls the knife from within. Holding the knife, he looks at the contents of the casserole that remained on the knife. Curiously leaning the blade of the knife close to his nostrils...he sniffs lightly. Blinking...he calmly thinks to himself.]
-Okay. This thing has no odor...it's BLEEDING...and it looks like Tha UnHoly Alliance after a patented Prophet-beatdown-and-BBQ...-
...You said this was a casserole, right?!
*~FIN~*
