The Rumors in St. Petersburg
Have you heard?
... Okay, I know what you're thinking.
Don Bluth, 1997. Would kill to get tickets to the musical.
Tag, what the fuck are you doing, man?
My response?
I like watching movies in my downtime. Fuck right off. I barely sleep and stick my nose in paperwork. The fuck do you want from me? I like to intersperse my media experiences with happier anecdotes. What do I look like, some sort of fucking nutcase?
Point is, certain events are piling up about a certain blue haired... psychopath? Sociopath?
Jack. I'm talking about Jack. The person who I affectionately refer to as my best friend, and they're causing some stir around the office. And in Sanctuary. And occasionally when I close my eyes, my fucking dreams!
Including a fucking infiltrator. Who.. didn't do anything except give me a cup of coffee and a note. Or set off any of the Rabbits running the security office. Seemed like a possibly kind and simply put... well mannered spy.
The fuck is going on? If I wanted a spy, I wanted one that would have at least killed somebody and tried to gank me. Can't I have anything today? Can someone just try and kill me to ease off my perpetual boredom? Or not just be so... gut-wrenchingly kind to the point of making me want to empty my stomach.
Stupid cheery bastard comes in, tells me I look tired, and then fucks right off into the nether. Or whatever the fuck you'd call the lines between time and space.
Fucking.. Fuck me.
I'd get sauced if it didn't mean a fucking curse up my ass from again, the same bitch I love to hate getting on me for breaking a promise.
Don't break a promise made on a bedside table with a friend who literally has a ceremonial knife to complete the oath in blood.
More rumors. Certain people that shall be mentioned only by role and not by name. Fuck them if they think I'm every committing them to memory.
A "Sky God" to the east, that.. what is he anyway, an Angel? A smiling little shit? Stalking around the southern marshes? And some sort of stoner oracle? Bunch of smart mouthed bastards that make my skin crawl.
Most of all that previously mentioned and annoyingly chipper Seraph guy. Is that his name? Least that's what the note said.
And of course you ask me to be nice to the one that fucking teleports into my office!
Fine, I'll play ball. Take a nap. Maybe listen to a damn soundtrack during a long and warranted nap. You win Jack, as always. I know you care, and you're only looking out for me, and of course HIM.
But fine. Shadow's going to sit in a nice solid dark corner and lay down.
... Okay, I know what you're thinking.
Don Bluth, 1997. Would kill to get tickets to the musical.
Tag, what the fuck are you doing, man?
My response?
I like watching movies in my downtime. Fuck right off. I barely sleep and stick my nose in paperwork. The fuck do you want from me? I like to intersperse my media experiences with happier anecdotes. What do I look like, some sort of fucking nutcase?
Point is, certain events are piling up about a certain blue haired... psychopath? Sociopath?
Jack. I'm talking about Jack. The person who I affectionately refer to as my best friend, and they're causing some stir around the office. And in Sanctuary. And occasionally when I close my eyes, my fucking dreams!
Including a fucking infiltrator. Who.. didn't do anything except give me a cup of coffee and a note. Or set off any of the Rabbits running the security office. Seemed like a possibly kind and simply put... well mannered spy.
The fuck is going on? If I wanted a spy, I wanted one that would have at least killed somebody and tried to gank me. Can't I have anything today? Can someone just try and kill me to ease off my perpetual boredom? Or not just be so... gut-wrenchingly kind to the point of making me want to empty my stomach.
Stupid cheery bastard comes in, tells me I look tired, and then fucks right off into the nether. Or whatever the fuck you'd call the lines between time and space.
Fucking.. Fuck me.
I'd get sauced if it didn't mean a fucking curse up my ass from again, the same bitch I love to hate getting on me for breaking a promise.
Don't break a promise made on a bedside table with a friend who literally has a ceremonial knife to complete the oath in blood.
More rumors. Certain people that shall be mentioned only by role and not by name. Fuck them if they think I'm every committing them to memory.
A "Sky God" to the east, that.. what is he anyway, an Angel? A smiling little shit? Stalking around the southern marshes? And some sort of stoner oracle? Bunch of smart mouthed bastards that make my skin crawl.
Most of all that previously mentioned and annoyingly chipper Seraph guy. Is that his name? Least that's what the note said.
And of course you ask me to be nice to the one that fucking teleports into my office!
Fine, I'll play ball. Take a nap. Maybe listen to a damn soundtrack during a long and warranted nap. You win Jack, as always. I know you care, and you're only looking out for me, and of course HIM.
But fine. Shadow's going to sit in a nice solid dark corner and lay down.
GOOD.
ReplyDeleteI love your cranky fuckin' ass.
.......you might want to start doing research on the new players in the field.
On it, they're probably going to be a bigger pain in my ass if I don't, huh?
ReplyDelete