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Mar. 22nd, 2005 01:09 pm[OOM: Suite 134]
The waking world is an assault on his senses. The bright light of day hurts his eyes, just as the smell of two day old mini weenies burns his nose. One should not spend an entire day in bed eating left over forbidden party snacks and reading comic books, though it did get him out of cleaning up.
Actually, the more he thinks about it....it was all too easy to get out of cleaning up. Surely Indy would have come to bother him before hand, unless...Heh, that's it he's been holed up in his room with Lori. Ugh, this means that the entire mess will not only still be there, but will have a two day old funk brewing.
As Mike rolls out of bed, he gives a passing thought to how one could harness that funk and use it to nurture a small clutch of vampires. On legs stiff from sleep he hobbles to the bathroom, the first of many steps in the long process of waking up.
Scratching the lower scutes of his carapace, he stumbles out of the bathroom and into the common area, he's braced for anything, save what he actually finds there: nothing.
Not a damn thing. The whole house has been cleaned. Damn, Indy's good. Maybe the guy finally felt bad about the whole mini-weenie incident. He pads over to Indy's door and gives it a shave and a hair cut.
"Indy. Wake up man. I'm making you breakfast. Anything you want."
There's no sound from inside.
"INDY! Come on! Out of bed you lazy good for nothing bump on a log! Up an at'em!"
Still nothing.
"Indy?"
And with that, Mike cautiously opens the door. There's no one in the room. The bed has been made, and there's even a small candy bar on the pillow. Shrugging, Mike heads back to the common area. Something nags at him.
He's just with Lori, that's all. But wouldn't he have left at least a note or something? Maybe he got up early and went down stairs already. I'm sure hearing him move around would have woken me up, mini weenie hangovers not withstanding.
Mike ponders various notions as he makes his way towards the relocated coffee table in the center of the room. He'll just turn on the television. Background noise will help him think and calm his nerves. Sure, just some tv, and then he can start his day.
His next step is greeted by a crunching sound. Mike looks down to see a small trail of dust, like the kind left behind the by the edge of a dust pan. Only this particular trail of dust continues, and not in a straight line. It loops and curves, as if someone had swept up against an immovable surface that had long since been removed. Carefully he nudges the table out of the way, and gazes in silent horror at what he sees: A perfect crime scene outline of a human form composed entirely in dust.
Mike jumps backward, landing one on of the faux-leather chairs. He doesn't scream, though he wants to. His eyes dart around the room looking for other clues. His attention is drawn to the strange bowl of colored candies left on the coffee table.
"EVERLASTING GOBSTOPPERS? OH MY GOD! OOMPA LOOMPAS KILLED MY ROOMMATE!"
The waking world is an assault on his senses. The bright light of day hurts his eyes, just as the smell of two day old mini weenies burns his nose. One should not spend an entire day in bed eating left over forbidden party snacks and reading comic books, though it did get him out of cleaning up.
Actually, the more he thinks about it....it was all too easy to get out of cleaning up. Surely Indy would have come to bother him before hand, unless...Heh, that's it he's been holed up in his room with Lori. Ugh, this means that the entire mess will not only still be there, but will have a two day old funk brewing.
As Mike rolls out of bed, he gives a passing thought to how one could harness that funk and use it to nurture a small clutch of vampires. On legs stiff from sleep he hobbles to the bathroom, the first of many steps in the long process of waking up.
Scratching the lower scutes of his carapace, he stumbles out of the bathroom and into the common area, he's braced for anything, save what he actually finds there: nothing.
Not a damn thing. The whole house has been cleaned. Damn, Indy's good. Maybe the guy finally felt bad about the whole mini-weenie incident. He pads over to Indy's door and gives it a shave and a hair cut.
"Indy. Wake up man. I'm making you breakfast. Anything you want."
There's no sound from inside.
"INDY! Come on! Out of bed you lazy good for nothing bump on a log! Up an at'em!"
Still nothing.
"Indy?"
And with that, Mike cautiously opens the door. There's no one in the room. The bed has been made, and there's even a small candy bar on the pillow. Shrugging, Mike heads back to the common area. Something nags at him.
He's just with Lori, that's all. But wouldn't he have left at least a note or something? Maybe he got up early and went down stairs already. I'm sure hearing him move around would have woken me up, mini weenie hangovers not withstanding.
Mike ponders various notions as he makes his way towards the relocated coffee table in the center of the room. He'll just turn on the television. Background noise will help him think and calm his nerves. Sure, just some tv, and then he can start his day.
His next step is greeted by a crunching sound. Mike looks down to see a small trail of dust, like the kind left behind the by the edge of a dust pan. Only this particular trail of dust continues, and not in a straight line. It loops and curves, as if someone had swept up against an immovable surface that had long since been removed. Carefully he nudges the table out of the way, and gazes in silent horror at what he sees: A perfect crime scene outline of a human form composed entirely in dust.
Mike jumps backward, landing one on of the faux-leather chairs. He doesn't scream, though he wants to. His eyes dart around the room looking for other clues. His attention is drawn to the strange bowl of colored candies left on the coffee table.
"EVERLASTING GOBSTOPPERS? OH MY GOD! OOMPA LOOMPAS KILLED MY ROOMMATE!"
