Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Do Five-Year Olds like Beer?

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    Fear
    Exabyte

    Exabyte

    Posts : 1260
    Join date : 2013-09-04
    Location : The comfort of a grave
    Level : 60

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    Do Five-Year Olds like Beer?

    Post by Fear on Mon Feb 08, 2016 5:08 pm

    Time: Noon
    Date: February 6th, 0006



    No, probably not.

    More hours had passed without significant headway on Livewire's birthday gift and Fear could feel the sands of time slipping past his skeletal fingers. Oh what was he going to get her...? Out of budding despair and old habits, the fiend had found himself idling about in the Outer District, aimless and without epiphany. There on a pile of weeks'-old garbage bags he laid, tucked away in a neglected alley with limbs sprawled. "I'm no good at thissss..." he sighed, crestfallen. Flies buzzed noisily above his head, a half-empty bottle of alcohol limply held within a hand. Oi... drinking beer while feeling like trash wasn't setting a very good example. But, filth is as filth does, and right now the ghoul just wanted to mope.

    If he didn't find a suitable present in time for her birthday, what would Livewire think of him? A smaller piece of his psyche told him that the femme was a loving young lady; she'd of course be a tad smarted and dismayed, but she would nonetheless smile and be happy for the company. That wasn't good enough, however. The louder, more vocal piece of his psyche berated him for not thinking hard enough.

    Which was true, no?

    Livewire was worth the effort, it said. And if she was worth the effort, then he needed to double it. But how? And with what? Fear couldn't just give her something she already had or expected. Where was the fun in that? The lass had a working job, besides. She could just as easily purchase things for herself on any day of the week! Another defeated sigh escaped him as the fiend rolled over, cans and all sorts of unpleasant business crinkling beneath his weight. Well... he did know that sinners liked to purchase gift cards in the place of specific gifts, but that just felt so... impersonal. Would a guardian really be doing any favours by purchasing little cutouts of plastic? He pointedly ignored the shoe box near his unseemly feet and didn't want to think about money, because it was just... useless. God, was it use -

    "Mrow!"

    ...Huh? Money doesn't mewl.

    Dozens of eyes snapped open and the fiend craned his rigid neck, startled. Blimey! What was... what was rubbing up against his host and sinking its little claws into his leathers? Though his vision wasn't what it used to be, Fear knew a cat when he saw one. Look at the smelly bugger! It seemed a ginger tabby had come to pay its respects, eyes as green as a spring meadow and with a layer of fur so dense that it could be considered plush. Aww, cute bastard... and male, too, judging from the size of its... well, you know.

    "And jussst what are we doing, eh?" the fiend asked, sitting upright. Impossibly-long arms reached over and picked the stray up with ease, Mr. Tabby purring up a storm with its tail lazily swaying. "Are we being a curiousss little imp, hmm? Making friendsss with the dead and thinking himssself immune with the ressst of hisss nine livesss?" It only purred louder from the attention, eyes squinting shut. Cats... They were surely one of the universe's stranger creatures. Its blase attitude earned a chuckle out of Fear and he cradled the feline within his arms, hardened fingernails scratching just below the ears. It was then that a plethora of little black things hopped of his new-found companion and proceeded - ack! - to leap all over him! "Fleasss!?" he hissed in alarm, host seizing. "Oi, I can't be having fleasss! That meansss Kev isss going to insssissst on giving me a wretched bath!" And Fear was not going to step anywhere near water and soap. But do you think the cat cared? No, not a wink.

    It only purred and purred and purred, stretching out as if it hadn't a care in all the world.

    Sigh... cats. They were almost as frustrating as sinners, but thankfully not as cognizant. "Alasss, my pleasssantly filthy friend..." Fear rasped, carefully cupping its fluffy face between his claws, "I cannot keep you, or take you to the veterinarian. I've a budge, sssee, and it'sss for my little bumblebee. Her birthday isss sssoon and I've not found a gift for her." It purred some more, lethargically blinking. "...What? I can't give her a bloody fissssh, mate! What'sss ssshe going to do with the clammy thing besssidesss put it in a bowl?"

    Though the mental image was amusing, it simply wasn't feasible. The ghoul shook his head, beer once again in his free hand. "It'sss no usssse," he muttered, taking a sip. Out of classic Fear logic, he even gave the cat a few licks before finishing the bottle. "I'll jussst need to make sssomething, I think. Perhapsss... a cat motif drawer for her clothesss? Or, maybe, a reading bench in the ssshape of cat?"

    "Mrow!"

    "...Pardon?"

    The cat blinked again, licking its moist pink nose. "Mrow!"

    Oh! Fear at once shook his head and this time with more emphasis. "Sssorry, friend, but there wouldn't be any room! I can't take you home with me... There are enough animalsss at the houssse as there isss." Upon hearing this, the ginger tabby curled its forelimbs beneath its chest and exhaled a deep breath, eyes resting on the ghoul's smelly forearm. "Oh come now, I'm sssure it'sss not all that bad," he continued. "There'sss plenty of trasssh here, and I'm certain you can find a good cardboard box to keep you out of the rain."

    "Mrrr..."

    Poor guy... it must be rough living off the streets like an urchin. A few calming strokes was enough to get the tabby purring again, belly rumbling. "I know, friend, I know..." Fear agreed quietly. "If only there wasss a - " Hey, wait a second... Couldn't there be?

    It was as if a light went on in the fiend's mushy gourd, the roaches scattering. "That'sss it!" he perked up, snapping his fingers. "I know what the lassss would love for her birthday! Ohhh... you're sssuch a sssmart little kitty cat, yessss~!" An additional set of thorough scratchies was the tabby's reward, though it didn't quite understand. No time to explain further, though! Fear set the feline down and sprang to his feet excitedly, vigour renewed, and threw his beer bottle into a nearby bin with a clatter. The cat naturally didn't approve and its ears flattened. "Oh, sssorry... But hey, I'll make it up to you," he rasped. Consider the tabby listening. "Get your little tomcat friendsss and be sssure to round up the galsss. Lisssten for my call on Tuesssday, friend, and I'll be repay the favour. You've my sssolemn word on it, deal?" The cat sniffed, cleaning one of its forepaws. Ahh, the epitome of aloofness...

    Deal, smelly man.

    "Great! Tuesssday it isss," the fiend happily nodded.

    What's a Tuesday?

    "...Er, jussst lisssten for my whissstle, yeah?"

    Okay.

    Cats, oi!

      Current date/time is Fri Jul 21, 2017 10:52 am