fandomhighdorms | Fifth floor common room, Friday afternoon (after workshops/music festival)

Entry tags:

Fifth floor common room, Friday afternoon (after workshops/music festival)

Warren had decided, in light of the phone calls he'd received and what he assumed was going on, that the only thing to do was the old "if you can't beat them, join them" thing and start prank calling people at random.

Of course, what was really going on just made it all even more random. . . .

Still, it wouldn't do any good if people couldn't see that he was being cool and hip and following the trend, so he was out in the common room while he did it, stretched out on the couch with his cellphone to his ear and the town directory on his lap.

Fun times, my friends, fun times.

Of course, while he was there, he got another voicemail, and that just needed a real reply. Seriously.

[ooc: post is open (with very small OCD)! An' if you want to be around to actually answer one of Warren's random phone calls, ping in in the thread to have ze conversation. . . . Whether he's left you a voicemail or not. Feel free to call him there, too . . . .]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't know, find a shrubber, maybe? Er, I mean, THAT IS OF NO CONCERN TO THE KING OF THE GNOME FOREST! Seriously, what the hell kind of girly name for a cat is that?"

"SO not a girly name. A girly name would have been, like....Princess Bianca Mercedes Neko-chan the...Fifth, or something. And if you're the king of a forest, shouldn't be surrounded by shrubbery? Or shrubbery type things?"

Oooo, good question. "Yes, but they're not very nicely trimmed, see, and my wife is very particular about her landscaping, and if we get a gnome forest shrubbery, she's always like, 'OH, BUT IT'S SO FULL OF GNOMES, THEY'VE BEATEN THE LEAVES TO DEATH AGAIN, I SIMPLY CANNOT HAVE IT'. . . . so you see my dilema."

Chad did, at first, but, as he considered this conundrum, he second-guessed the situation.

"If you're king of the gnomes, can't you just make the gnomes stop beating the leaves to death?"

"No, see, that's the thing. I'm not king of the GNOMES, I'm king of the Gnome FOREST. Big difference. No, the gnomes would never answer to anybody, the filthy buggers,"

"Oh. That's a big gyp, then..."

"It really is. I can't even begin to tell you. That's why I have to rampage about and steal people's women and eat their babies and pets. Only thing that let's me get away from that witch I married and all those gnasty little gnomes. . . ."

"That's a real bummer, man. Ummm, but good luck, I guess? With the women and babies and pets? 'Cause, um, I'm kinda expecting a really important phone call, so I should probably go..."

"Okay, but just so you know, I'm still coming for your girly-named cat if you don't give me pie and a shrubbery. I'll have to get someone else's woman, I suppose."

"You're not getting my cat."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm contractually obligated to do so. . . ." Warren looked around, then grabbed a few napkins to make paper rustling noises. "Yes, yes, it says here that if I'm not provided with a pie and shrubbery, I--well, it says 'Party of the first part', but earlier it specifies that that's the King of the Gnome Forest, which is, you know, me--anyway. If I'm not provided with a pie and shrubbery I will devour the child/pet/steal the woman of the party of the second part--which would be you. Since you don't have any kids or a woman, I guess that means your cat. And it's signed, by me, and by you, Mr. Godfrey Thricewise the Fifteenth."

"And you said Oscar Pedro had a girly name? Well, in my contract, it says, you touch my cat, I kill you."

Woah, woah, backpedal, backpedal! "No, no, I'm pretty sure our contracts should be matching, and mine has nothing about you getting to kill me, Mr. Thricewise."

At least he was disguising his voice. . . .

"Wait. I'm Mr. Thricewise?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, I'm the King of the Gnome Forest, you wouldn't think I'd have a name like 'Mr. Godfrey Thricewise the Fifteenth', would--wait, you're saying you're not Mr. Godfrey Thricewise the Fifteenth?"

Chad grunted an answer that said, yes, he most certainly was not.

Warren pulled the phone away from his ear and put his hand over the moutpiece before assuming a falsetto and yelling "THAT HAD BETTER BE MR. THRICEWISE WITH MY SHRUBBERY, KING-Y DEAR,". Then he resumed the deep voice and put the phone back to his ear.

"Oh, oh my, I am so embarassed, I seem to have dialed the wrong number. I'm quite sure that your child/pet/woman is perfectly safe. Just . . . just don't order any Chinese food from the back of a comic book and you'll be fine. Gotta go, nice chatting with you, bye!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fifth floor common room, Friday afternoon (after workshops/music festival)

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!

Re: Phone calls!