It's curtains for you.
Oct. 3rd, 2005 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
plonqI posted a teaser the other day for a story that I was working on. As promised, here is the final work. It didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped, but they never do. This was supposed to be a light romp, but it seems to have descended into yucky relationship stuff.
Anyway...
Plonq adjusted his headset and bent the gooseneck enough to clear the microphone of his protruding whiskers. He opened the volume control on-screen and cleared his throat.
"Test, test, one, two, three," he mewled, watching the levels as the digital VU bounced to the sound of his voice. "I have come to teach you all some humility. I PWN J00 GIRLI3 BOIZ!" He wasn't quite sure how to pronounce the latter, so he said it pretty much as it was spelled. The snow leopard discovered that it irritated the other players when he did so, and that suited him just fine. Satisfied that the sound levels were set just high enough to make his voice distort annoyingly, he closed the volume controls considered his next move. "Which game," he mused aloud as he noisily tapped a lower canine with an extended claw. "Who do you want to frag today?"
"Would you PLEASE stop tapping your teeth like that? You're going to wear down the enamel," said a voice behind him.
"Gah!" responded Plonq, jumping six inches out of his chair and whirling around in one motion. If the otter was nonplussed by the feline's response, he showed no indication. "I've asked you REPEATEDLY not to sneak up on me like that when I'm plugged into the computer," the cat growled. He glowered at the offending otter and, after a couple of attempts, managed to snag his own thrashing tail and carefully brushed the puffed fur down flat again.
"I didn't sneak up on anyone," said Giblet defensively. "I even knocked... sort of." He stepped past the feline, turned, and balanced himself gingerly on the edge of the desk with one buttock. "Anyway, now that I have your attention, I think we need to talk about something important."
"Is it about the pair of my underwear that was stuck to the wall?" asked the snow leopard. He had apparently just noticed that in his startled state he had become intricately entangled with his headphone cord. He tugged on a length of it experimentally to determine where it led.
"It's not about the underwear on the wall," said Giblet. "It's water under the bridge as far as I'm concerned." He coughed to suppress a snicker over the snow leopard's predicament. The feline was obviously still a bit rankled, and the otter decided that it probably wouldn't do to stir him up any further.
"Is it about the fact that you were the last one to be wearing them before they wound up stuck to the wall?" An undertone of snarl in the cat's voice warned Giblet that the other did not consider the matter to be "water under the bridge". Apparently the emotional wounds from the incident had not been licked clean of infection yet. Perhaps an hour wasn't long enough for the healing process to run its course. The otter mentally added fish to the dinner menu for a couple more days later in the week. The snow leopard continued to mutter darkly under his breath about underwear, walls, and the laws of physics, but Giblet could only make out a few key words.
"Look, I explained..." began the mustelid, but Plonq wasn't done.
"Explained what?" he yowled. "You've been wearing my underwear!" He had not made much progress in extracting himself from the entanglement of headphone cords. His fingers idly traced their way along one of the offending wires and found a mouse attached to the other end. "Ack!"
"I'm sorry," said the otter, "I ran out. I needed some underwear, and we both wear about the same size, so I borrowed some of yours. It's not like I'm stealing them! I always put them back when I'm done." The snow leopard froze. Had it not been for his breathing and pulse, the only movement would have been that of his neurons. Giblet could almost see them pulsing in the snow leopard's head, working their way to a conclusion that he'd rather not see them reach. "Only after I, uh, wash them!" he said quickly. He shifted his buttock uncomfortably on the edge of the desk and tried to move the subject to a safer area. "Anyway, that's not what I'm here to talk about. I want to talk about the house."
"What about the house?" said Plonq, who seemed to be just as eager to change the subject. He seemed to be making headway on the entangling cords, and no longer looked like he was thinking about biting through it.
"Well, I know it's not my house, and maybe not my place to say this," said Giblet evasively, "but I was giving thought to some cheap renovations that would really spiff the place up a bit." The feline gave a non-committal grunt - which wasn't outright rejection - so the otter pressed on. "I'll gladly chip in half or more of the money to do it. I'm not looking at anything expensive anyway, just a few things that would spruce up the interior and liven things up a bit."
"What did you have in mind?" asked Plonq. He lifted the last coil of wire over his head and laid it on the desk, where the lot of it looked far too short to have entangled him so.
If otters could purr, Giblet would have been rattling the walls. "Well," he said, in something that DID sound rather like a purr, "I was in the changing room this morning, and I got to thinking about how much nicer it would be if we replaced those natty old-lady curtains with something a bit more modern."
The snow leopard blinked. "The changing room has... curtains?" he said slowly.
Now it was the otter's turn to stare blankly. "You're joking, right?" he demanded incredulously.
Plonq shrugged. "I've just never noticed them, I guess," he said. "Anyway, if you want to replace them, I suppose that's okay with me."
"No, wait a minute!" said the otter sharply. "How could you NOT have noticed the curtains in there? They're horrible, stained, lacy monstrosities. They're tattered around the edges. They look like some kind of horror movie monstrosity that's just waiting to envelop and digest small children who walk too close." He waved his arms so emphatically that he nearly dislodged himself from the edge of the desk. "They're an abomination against decency and good taste! They're like a psychic vacuum for the eyes, sucking your gaze into their tattered heart of evil and despair... and you say that you haven't noticed them?"
"They're just drapes," said Plonq softly. He appeared slightly cowed by the fierce passion of the mustelid's outburst. "Nobody notices curtains. They're just... there."
"Look at me," said Giblet tersely. Plonq fixed his gaze on the otter's. "Now without turning around to look," he said, "describe the curtains in the window behind you. Nuh uh! Keep your eyes on mine, buddy." The snow leopard squinted slightly in thought, before he answered quite slowly.
"They're... green?" he said hesitantly. When the otter didn't respond, he pressed on. "With a floral pattern," he added triumphantly.
"They're pale yellow, with fire trucks," said the otter flatly. Plonq spun his chair around for a look, and discovered that the otter spoke the truth. The drapes hung there in limp testament to the veracity of the mustelid's words. They were ugly. No, scratch that, they were UGLY.
"Dining room," said Giblet.
"Floral pattern."
"Twining ivy and cherubs. Kitchen."
"Floral pattern."
The otter sighed. "Yes," he admitted, "but just repeating the same answer until you get it right isn't exactly fair.
Plonq leaned back thoughtfully in his chair, which creaked ominously in protest. He stroked his fuzzy chin and turned to ponder the curtains in the computer room again. "I suppose," he said slowly, "it wouldn't hurt to put up some new drapes. I think it would let us put off painting for a couple more years if we did that. I just don't want anything, um..."
"Gay?" teased the otter.
"You know what I mean," said the snow leopard sourly. "I don't want any frilly, lacy, old-lady curtains. I want curtains that make a bold statement about the people who live here." He stood and gesticulated in the general direction of the ugly drapes. "I want something which says that two men live here, but don't necessarily cohabitate. I want something with fish."
There was a pregnant silence.
"Fish," said Giblet flatly. His face took on the expression of an otter who had just sat on a fish. "Well those definitely wouldn't be gay," he agreed. He emphasized his next words with a series of index-finger jabs in the snow leopard's chest. "Nor would they be tasteful. Maybe in the bathroom, but I refuse to live in any place that has fish drapes in the windows!" He eyed Plonq suspiciously. "I can't tell if you're joking or not. For your sake, I hope that you are."
"Maybe," agreed the feline, but as the otter turned to leave he heard the cat mutter under his breath, "What's wrong with fish?"
As he followed Giblet out to his car, Plonq glanced at the curtains as they passed through the various rooms. Although he had never noticed them before, he realised with a sinking feeling that the otter was right. Worse, was that now that they had been brought to his attention, he would never be able to enter any of the rooms without noticing the awful drapes. He wasn't sure whether to thank the little mustelid for saving him from the depths of interior-decorating abomination, or curse him for upsetting his comfortable status-quo. There was something comforting in for stability.
Then again, wasn't that why the otter was still living with him? What would he do if things became more serious between himself and the skunk at work? She had been hinting about taking their relationship up another step, and Plonq found himself intrigued by the idea. He found that it was easy to picture the skunk in his future, but equally hard to picture the future without an otter. What would he do with the otter of she moved in? Of course that wasn't a given, and for now there was comfort in stability. His eyes bored into the back of the otter, who was waving about gleefully and blathering on about panels and valences.
His life was definitely better with the otter around. It wasn't unending bliss, but it was comfortable, and a far bit less lonely. And... he pushed the foetal thought back into the recesses of his brain before it could fully form. There was no point in worrying about scenarios for an undecided future. He would worry about the future when the future was now. He would make things work.
Plonq had long since overcome the feelings of mortification that he used to experience whenever he slid into the otter's car. The otter drove a Saturn coup that sported custom yellow paint, faux-fur seat covers, a back window ledge piled with an enthusiastic melange of plush toys, and license plates that bore the legend, "SILKY 1". Plonq had never asked the otter to explain the custom plate. Giblet had never volunteered the information. The snow leopard pulled the seatbelt around his ample frame.
"So, where are we going?" he mewled. Giblet pondered for a moment.
"I was thinking we could start at Drapes & Stuff," he said. "If they don't have anything we like then we're in serious trouble."
"Drapes & Stuff," said Plonq dryly. "I've never heard of this place. What's the '& Stuff'?"
"Mostly general household goods," said Giblet. He pulled out into the street and cut his way over into the flow of traffic. "Most of these stores have become pretty general with their merchandise. These guys also sell bedding, bath accessories, small appliances, kitchen gadgets, medical supplies and industrial pneumatic assemblies."
"Did you say kitchen gadgets?" purred Plonq. He rubbed his furry hands together.
"We don't need a wireless turkey baster," said Giblet quickly. "Our kitchen is overflowing with the useless gadgets that you buy every time we go into one of these places."
"They're not all useless," said Plonq in a tone that radiated umbrage. "I've used everything at least once - except for the Turnip Twaddler. I'm still not quite sure what it does, and it didn't come with instructions."
"And I'm telling you it doesn't belong in the kitchen," said Giblet. He deftly cut-off another driver and flipped a rude gesture at him in one motion. "It's a sex toy if ever I've seen one."
"Naw," said Plonq. "Not that I've tried it as such," he added a bit too quickly.
"Me too," nodded the otter. He glanced slyly over at the cat in the passenger seat. "Don't look so shocked," he said with a teasing gleam in his eye. "An otter's got to keep his libido happy somehow - especially when his roomie won't get drunk enough to put out."
"Ack!"
Giblet patted the feline's knee gently. "I kid," he said. "I know you swing the other way, but that doesn't change the fact that you're a pretty hot piece of tail in this otter's book." He giggled at the snow leopard's obvious discomfiture. "You're so cute when you shrivel in embarrassment. That's one of the things I like about you."
"No, not like," Giblet thought, but he refused to voice the other word, even in his head. It was a word that introduced untold layers of complication into a fairly happy, simple relationship. Although he teased the feline about getting him drunk, the two room mates had spent many evenings together tasting scotch to excess. Giblet was not a fan of using alcohol as a crutch, but it sometimes brought out a side of the feline that he liked. Plonq loosened up a lot after a few drinks, sometimes to the point of actually speaking his mind.
"I dunno why you're shacking up with a loser like me," he had slurred late one Friday evening after they'd polished off a bottle of Glenfish. "You should go get yourself a sugar daddy." The otter had started in with a self-disparaging retort, but the snow leopard had cut him off. "Oh don't sell yourself short. You're sensitive and smart. I dunno what guys look for in other guys, but I think you're cute and sexy as well. You could have any guy you want."
Not any.
The otter almost missed his turn, and he was forced to flip-off another driver as he completed his frantic manoeuvre into the parking lot. He admonished the snow leopard again as they pulled into a parking spot near the store. "No kitchen gadgets. We're here for drapes."
Twenty minutes later, they stood by the car again, sans drapes.
"I don't know why they bother with 'Drapes' in the name of their store," said the otter bitterly. "They should just call it 'Everything BUT Drapes' and they'd be more accurate." He hefted a large shopping bag. "At least I found myself a nice starfish pillow. And you bought what, a corkscrew?"
"A solar-powered cork screw," said Plonq, hugging the bag protectively to his chest. "I didn’t even know they made these things. It's got a USB port too."
"You're such a geek." The otter giggled as they climbed back into his car. "Did you want to stop for ice cream on the way home?"
"Let's just grab a tub of vanilla," said Plonq. "I'm in the mood for something simple."
"Yes," agreed the otter, "simple sounds like a good plan for now."
And that's the whole story.
Anyway...
Plonq adjusted his headset and bent the gooseneck enough to clear the microphone of his protruding whiskers. He opened the volume control on-screen and cleared his throat.
"Test, test, one, two, three," he mewled, watching the levels as the digital VU bounced to the sound of his voice. "I have come to teach you all some humility. I PWN J00 GIRLI3 BOIZ!" He wasn't quite sure how to pronounce the latter, so he said it pretty much as it was spelled. The snow leopard discovered that it irritated the other players when he did so, and that suited him just fine. Satisfied that the sound levels were set just high enough to make his voice distort annoyingly, he closed the volume controls considered his next move. "Which game," he mused aloud as he noisily tapped a lower canine with an extended claw. "Who do you want to frag today?"
"Would you PLEASE stop tapping your teeth like that? You're going to wear down the enamel," said a voice behind him.
"Gah!" responded Plonq, jumping six inches out of his chair and whirling around in one motion. If the otter was nonplussed by the feline's response, he showed no indication. "I've asked you REPEATEDLY not to sneak up on me like that when I'm plugged into the computer," the cat growled. He glowered at the offending otter and, after a couple of attempts, managed to snag his own thrashing tail and carefully brushed the puffed fur down flat again.
"I didn't sneak up on anyone," said Giblet defensively. "I even knocked... sort of." He stepped past the feline, turned, and balanced himself gingerly on the edge of the desk with one buttock. "Anyway, now that I have your attention, I think we need to talk about something important."
"Is it about the pair of my underwear that was stuck to the wall?" asked the snow leopard. He had apparently just noticed that in his startled state he had become intricately entangled with his headphone cord. He tugged on a length of it experimentally to determine where it led.
"It's not about the underwear on the wall," said Giblet. "It's water under the bridge as far as I'm concerned." He coughed to suppress a snicker over the snow leopard's predicament. The feline was obviously still a bit rankled, and the otter decided that it probably wouldn't do to stir him up any further.
"Is it about the fact that you were the last one to be wearing them before they wound up stuck to the wall?" An undertone of snarl in the cat's voice warned Giblet that the other did not consider the matter to be "water under the bridge". Apparently the emotional wounds from the incident had not been licked clean of infection yet. Perhaps an hour wasn't long enough for the healing process to run its course. The otter mentally added fish to the dinner menu for a couple more days later in the week. The snow leopard continued to mutter darkly under his breath about underwear, walls, and the laws of physics, but Giblet could only make out a few key words.
"Look, I explained..." began the mustelid, but Plonq wasn't done.
"Explained what?" he yowled. "You've been wearing my underwear!" He had not made much progress in extracting himself from the entanglement of headphone cords. His fingers idly traced their way along one of the offending wires and found a mouse attached to the other end. "Ack!"
"I'm sorry," said the otter, "I ran out. I needed some underwear, and we both wear about the same size, so I borrowed some of yours. It's not like I'm stealing them! I always put them back when I'm done." The snow leopard froze. Had it not been for his breathing and pulse, the only movement would have been that of his neurons. Giblet could almost see them pulsing in the snow leopard's head, working their way to a conclusion that he'd rather not see them reach. "Only after I, uh, wash them!" he said quickly. He shifted his buttock uncomfortably on the edge of the desk and tried to move the subject to a safer area. "Anyway, that's not what I'm here to talk about. I want to talk about the house."
"What about the house?" said Plonq, who seemed to be just as eager to change the subject. He seemed to be making headway on the entangling cords, and no longer looked like he was thinking about biting through it.
"Well, I know it's not my house, and maybe not my place to say this," said Giblet evasively, "but I was giving thought to some cheap renovations that would really spiff the place up a bit." The feline gave a non-committal grunt - which wasn't outright rejection - so the otter pressed on. "I'll gladly chip in half or more of the money to do it. I'm not looking at anything expensive anyway, just a few things that would spruce up the interior and liven things up a bit."
"What did you have in mind?" asked Plonq. He lifted the last coil of wire over his head and laid it on the desk, where the lot of it looked far too short to have entangled him so.
If otters could purr, Giblet would have been rattling the walls. "Well," he said, in something that DID sound rather like a purr, "I was in the changing room this morning, and I got to thinking about how much nicer it would be if we replaced those natty old-lady curtains with something a bit more modern."
The snow leopard blinked. "The changing room has... curtains?" he said slowly.
Now it was the otter's turn to stare blankly. "You're joking, right?" he demanded incredulously.
Plonq shrugged. "I've just never noticed them, I guess," he said. "Anyway, if you want to replace them, I suppose that's okay with me."
"No, wait a minute!" said the otter sharply. "How could you NOT have noticed the curtains in there? They're horrible, stained, lacy monstrosities. They're tattered around the edges. They look like some kind of horror movie monstrosity that's just waiting to envelop and digest small children who walk too close." He waved his arms so emphatically that he nearly dislodged himself from the edge of the desk. "They're an abomination against decency and good taste! They're like a psychic vacuum for the eyes, sucking your gaze into their tattered heart of evil and despair... and you say that you haven't noticed them?"
"They're just drapes," said Plonq softly. He appeared slightly cowed by the fierce passion of the mustelid's outburst. "Nobody notices curtains. They're just... there."
"Look at me," said Giblet tersely. Plonq fixed his gaze on the otter's. "Now without turning around to look," he said, "describe the curtains in the window behind you. Nuh uh! Keep your eyes on mine, buddy." The snow leopard squinted slightly in thought, before he answered quite slowly.
"They're... green?" he said hesitantly. When the otter didn't respond, he pressed on. "With a floral pattern," he added triumphantly.
"They're pale yellow, with fire trucks," said the otter flatly. Plonq spun his chair around for a look, and discovered that the otter spoke the truth. The drapes hung there in limp testament to the veracity of the mustelid's words. They were ugly. No, scratch that, they were UGLY.
"Dining room," said Giblet.
"Floral pattern."
"Twining ivy and cherubs. Kitchen."
"Floral pattern."
The otter sighed. "Yes," he admitted, "but just repeating the same answer until you get it right isn't exactly fair.
Plonq leaned back thoughtfully in his chair, which creaked ominously in protest. He stroked his fuzzy chin and turned to ponder the curtains in the computer room again. "I suppose," he said slowly, "it wouldn't hurt to put up some new drapes. I think it would let us put off painting for a couple more years if we did that. I just don't want anything, um..."
"Gay?" teased the otter.
"You know what I mean," said the snow leopard sourly. "I don't want any frilly, lacy, old-lady curtains. I want curtains that make a bold statement about the people who live here." He stood and gesticulated in the general direction of the ugly drapes. "I want something which says that two men live here, but don't necessarily cohabitate. I want something with fish."
There was a pregnant silence.
"Fish," said Giblet flatly. His face took on the expression of an otter who had just sat on a fish. "Well those definitely wouldn't be gay," he agreed. He emphasized his next words with a series of index-finger jabs in the snow leopard's chest. "Nor would they be tasteful. Maybe in the bathroom, but I refuse to live in any place that has fish drapes in the windows!" He eyed Plonq suspiciously. "I can't tell if you're joking or not. For your sake, I hope that you are."
"Maybe," agreed the feline, but as the otter turned to leave he heard the cat mutter under his breath, "What's wrong with fish?"
As he followed Giblet out to his car, Plonq glanced at the curtains as they passed through the various rooms. Although he had never noticed them before, he realised with a sinking feeling that the otter was right. Worse, was that now that they had been brought to his attention, he would never be able to enter any of the rooms without noticing the awful drapes. He wasn't sure whether to thank the little mustelid for saving him from the depths of interior-decorating abomination, or curse him for upsetting his comfortable status-quo. There was something comforting in for stability.
Then again, wasn't that why the otter was still living with him? What would he do if things became more serious between himself and the skunk at work? She had been hinting about taking their relationship up another step, and Plonq found himself intrigued by the idea. He found that it was easy to picture the skunk in his future, but equally hard to picture the future without an otter. What would he do with the otter of she moved in? Of course that wasn't a given, and for now there was comfort in stability. His eyes bored into the back of the otter, who was waving about gleefully and blathering on about panels and valences.
His life was definitely better with the otter around. It wasn't unending bliss, but it was comfortable, and a far bit less lonely. And... he pushed the foetal thought back into the recesses of his brain before it could fully form. There was no point in worrying about scenarios for an undecided future. He would worry about the future when the future was now. He would make things work.
Plonq had long since overcome the feelings of mortification that he used to experience whenever he slid into the otter's car. The otter drove a Saturn coup that sported custom yellow paint, faux-fur seat covers, a back window ledge piled with an enthusiastic melange of plush toys, and license plates that bore the legend, "SILKY 1". Plonq had never asked the otter to explain the custom plate. Giblet had never volunteered the information. The snow leopard pulled the seatbelt around his ample frame.
"So, where are we going?" he mewled. Giblet pondered for a moment.
"I was thinking we could start at Drapes & Stuff," he said. "If they don't have anything we like then we're in serious trouble."
"Drapes & Stuff," said Plonq dryly. "I've never heard of this place. What's the '& Stuff'?"
"Mostly general household goods," said Giblet. He pulled out into the street and cut his way over into the flow of traffic. "Most of these stores have become pretty general with their merchandise. These guys also sell bedding, bath accessories, small appliances, kitchen gadgets, medical supplies and industrial pneumatic assemblies."
"Did you say kitchen gadgets?" purred Plonq. He rubbed his furry hands together.
"We don't need a wireless turkey baster," said Giblet quickly. "Our kitchen is overflowing with the useless gadgets that you buy every time we go into one of these places."
"They're not all useless," said Plonq in a tone that radiated umbrage. "I've used everything at least once - except for the Turnip Twaddler. I'm still not quite sure what it does, and it didn't come with instructions."
"And I'm telling you it doesn't belong in the kitchen," said Giblet. He deftly cut-off another driver and flipped a rude gesture at him in one motion. "It's a sex toy if ever I've seen one."
"Naw," said Plonq. "Not that I've tried it as such," he added a bit too quickly.
"Me too," nodded the otter. He glanced slyly over at the cat in the passenger seat. "Don't look so shocked," he said with a teasing gleam in his eye. "An otter's got to keep his libido happy somehow - especially when his roomie won't get drunk enough to put out."
"Ack!"
Giblet patted the feline's knee gently. "I kid," he said. "I know you swing the other way, but that doesn't change the fact that you're a pretty hot piece of tail in this otter's book." He giggled at the snow leopard's obvious discomfiture. "You're so cute when you shrivel in embarrassment. That's one of the things I like about you."
"No, not like," Giblet thought, but he refused to voice the other word, even in his head. It was a word that introduced untold layers of complication into a fairly happy, simple relationship. Although he teased the feline about getting him drunk, the two room mates had spent many evenings together tasting scotch to excess. Giblet was not a fan of using alcohol as a crutch, but it sometimes brought out a side of the feline that he liked. Plonq loosened up a lot after a few drinks, sometimes to the point of actually speaking his mind.
"I dunno why you're shacking up with a loser like me," he had slurred late one Friday evening after they'd polished off a bottle of Glenfish. "You should go get yourself a sugar daddy." The otter had started in with a self-disparaging retort, but the snow leopard had cut him off. "Oh don't sell yourself short. You're sensitive and smart. I dunno what guys look for in other guys, but I think you're cute and sexy as well. You could have any guy you want."
Not any.
The otter almost missed his turn, and he was forced to flip-off another driver as he completed his frantic manoeuvre into the parking lot. He admonished the snow leopard again as they pulled into a parking spot near the store. "No kitchen gadgets. We're here for drapes."
Twenty minutes later, they stood by the car again, sans drapes.
"I don't know why they bother with 'Drapes' in the name of their store," said the otter bitterly. "They should just call it 'Everything BUT Drapes' and they'd be more accurate." He hefted a large shopping bag. "At least I found myself a nice starfish pillow. And you bought what, a corkscrew?"
"A solar-powered cork screw," said Plonq, hugging the bag protectively to his chest. "I didn’t even know they made these things. It's got a USB port too."
"You're such a geek." The otter giggled as they climbed back into his car. "Did you want to stop for ice cream on the way home?"
"Let's just grab a tub of vanilla," said Plonq. "I'm in the mood for something simple."
"Yes," agreed the otter, "simple sounds like a good plan for now."
And that's the whole story.
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-04 04:42 am (UTC)Nice job. Always a pleasure to read about Plonq and his adventures.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-04 11:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-04 04:09 pm (UTC)Yayyyyy!
Date: 2005-10-05 03:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-05 03:14 pm (UTC)They're like a psychic vacuum for the eyes, sucking your gaze into their tattered heart of evil and despair... and you say that you haven't noticed them?
This was good for a five-minute gigglefit. I {heart} Giblet!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 01:19 pm (UTC)http://www.plonq.com
I'm almost ashamed to give out the URL these days because the site has been badly neglected, and it's pretty out-of-date.