fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room, Wednesday Afternoon

Entry tags:

Fifth Floor Common Room, Wednesday Afternoon

Located in the fifth floor common room was Jeff. His hair was wet (for reasons he'd rather not divulge but which did not involve either showers or being outside), he was sitting propped up against a pillow (for reasons he'd rather not divulge and dearly hoped a particular someone else wouldn't either), and he was zapping pretty quickly from one channel to the next. Although he'd rather not divulge his reasons for doing so (now there was a surprise), he was in fact looking for Channel 4, but for one reason or another that someone entirely else must have come up with (and probably wouldn't divulge either, karmically), he kept running into BBC World instead (he was starting to suspect foul play).

Eventually he gave up and switched to what he considered to be the closest thing: a nature documentary about rather enthusiastic apes. His life was so exciting.

[ open y'all ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Animal wandered into the room and bounced on the couch. "APE! APE!"

"I'm sorry!" Jeff would've quickly sat up from where he'd been dozing if his back wasn't still hurting. "I didn't mean to, mother!"

Then he remembered where he was and what he'd been watching. "Oh," he said, "Hello."

"HEL-LO!" Animal replied.

He then tapped himself on his chest with his muppet hand.

"ANIMAL! ANIMAL!"

See he was introducing himself like a nice insane muppet should.

"I'm Jeff," Jeff said, "Sorry about the, you know, apologizing thing. I've been a bit on edge about hair since last Christmas. I think it was the pudding."

Even that gave Animal pause.

"PUD-DING?!"

Jeff paused. "There was an incident," he said, vaguely. "My mother feels she's a bit of an artist, things got out of hand."

Animal looked at his hand and then back at Jeff.

Then at his hand again and then back at Jeff.

"THROW PUDDING?!" he queried.

"There may have been some throwing involved," Jeff said, philosophically. "I don't know, I passed out halfway into it."

Pudding? Check.
Passing out? Check.
British accent? Check.
Mother issues? Check.

Animal then made the immediate and wrong assumption that Jeff was a musician.

"ROCK STAR! ROCK STAR!"

Upon which Jeff's attention was drawn to the television, as he'd assumed that was what Animal meant. He regarded the apes critically, "I suppose that's true if you look at it in a certain way. Could do with a different hair cut, but otherwise..."

And of course Animal assumed that Jeff wanted a haircut.

He headed over to the kitchen area and pulled out a pair of scissors.

"HAIRCUT! HAIRCUT!"

Jeff still wasn't really paying attention to any of the things he should've been paying attention to (but then, that was the story of his life, wasn't it?). His hair, on the other hand, was doing that odd white person semi-afro curly thing it always did above the couch.

"Of course," he said, "That is an awful lot of hair. You wouldn't want to risk any vital bits."

What do you know? Animal's reach was just above the couch's and he had perfect access to the hair.

"HAH! HAH! HAH! VITAL BITS!"

He made some snipping sounds with the scissors before leaning over to Jeff's hair.

"There's a real risk there," Jeff pointed out, "It gets a bit crowded down there. The boys don't really like that much room to breathe." He registered some falling hair, but figured it was probably just Animal, shedding.

The snipping stopped for a second as Animal looked at Jeff's head.

"BOYS?!" he asked scanning Jeff's hair for small little males runing around on his scalp.

"Well, you know--" Jeff turned his face to look at Animal, which is when he noticed the scissors. "..."

Animal waved the scissors in the air and made it makes some snipping noises.

"HAIRCUT!"

At which Jeff grabbed for his head. "No, no! I meant the apes!" he said, "My hair's fine the way it is, I've been pruning!"

Anders wandered down the hall into the common room, laptop in hand and game of Zuma Deluxe on pause. Eyeing the TV askance, he remarked, "Wow, dude, this is kinda, uh, hardcore."

"Well," Jeff peered at Anders from where he was sitting, "You know how these things get."

"And yet somehow, when it comes to apes, I kind of wish I didn't know quite that much," Anders said bemusedly. "Hi, guy I haven't met yet, I'm Anders. Sam Anders, if you want to get specific, but I don't usually like to. Not like there's more than one me or anything, right?"

"Are you sure?" Jeff asked, "I've got the suspicion there's some sort of bodysnatcher clone of me walking about, you can't plan for these things. Maybe you should make sure." He glanced down at his own knees. "I'm Jeff. Murdock. Back at my old school they called me Scary Jeff. Well, if they remembered me."

"Well, there was one weekend where I was a guy who looked like me," amended Anders. "Had demon powers and a crossbow and this freaky glowy-hand touch of death thing. But he's not me, he just looks like me. And I know this school is like a magnet for non-related identical lookalikes, but I've never had one. I'm just me, no copies or clones or anything, least not that I've seen in over two years here."

He furrowed his brow and looked quizzically at Jeff. "How come they called you Scary? I mean, you don't seem really scary or anything to me."

So far, he added to himself, but no point in alienating (ha ha) the guy just yet.

"As long as you're sure," Jeff said. He wasn't really worried or anything - after all, it's not like Anders could be his creepy clone. "I got into this habit," he said, "You know when you're watching television and there's this gorgeous woman and the edges go all fuzzy like the room's got all fogged up? Turns out that's impossible in reality, your eyes go all weird, like someone's hit you in the facial area with a blowdrier. I had to go to the hospital this once... I sort of gave up on it afterwards."

Blink, blink.

"Actually, around here? I would totally not be surprised if that could actually happen," Anders said. "I bet people here could make it happen. Without the hospital visit part, even."

You'd think he'd know better than to encourage this behavior, but noooo. And he'd totally blame the evil mind-sucking addictive computer game for it later on.

"I've been told that before," Jeff said, morosely, "But it's done no good for my magazines, has it?"

And then he paused in a profound manner, as if he'd just been struck by a revelation of some kind.

"...Or perhaps it has and that's why there's women everywhere! That's excellent. Next thing you know -- sentient breasts!"

"Sentient --" Okay, Anders might be starting to understand where Jeff got his nickname, now. "If I start thinking about that too hard, I'm never going to be able to look at my girlfriend the same way again."

"I suppose it would be a little hard on the women," Jeff mused, "I mean, there'd really be an issue in the case of communication difficulties, wouldn't there? I don't think they've got divorces for breasts."

Anders's quizzical expression was rapidly approaching 'might freeze that way' levels. "Except in extreme cases where cancer's involved, maybe, but I think that might kind of cut down on the whole sentient -- how did we start discussing sentient breasts, anyway?"

There had been a time in Jeff's life where he believed all people's faces were supposed to look like that. In the end his mother had abused him of the notion.

"They're just sort of there, aren't they? Lurking in the conversation."

"Dude, you make them sound like ninjas or something," protested Anders. "Which is kind of disturbing considering the number of ninjas at this school who I might never be able to look at the same way again."

Jeff eyed Anders with undue seriousness. "You can't underestimate breasts, Anders," he said, "They're always lurking, and you can't predict when they come popping out. I've tried. Every conversation contains the urgent threat of spontaneous breasts. Especially when there's women or television involved."

Anders kind of stared at him for a while. "Dude, they're just breasts. Girls have them. They're nice and all, but . . . they're just breasts, not, like . . . stealth jack-in-the-box spring clowns with boxing gloves on."

And oh, wasn't that just a disturbing mental image.

Jeff just stared at Anders as if he was someone particularly dimwitted, or at least entirely ignorant of the real dangers that plagued all mankind. "Trust me," he said, after a little while, "You'll find out."

Anders bristled a little, because he kind of hated getting that look even though it had been a while since the last time he had. "Hey, if I didn't get attacked by the shapeshifting demon breasts, I think I'm pretty safe from the regular ones," he replied.

"That's what they all say," Jeff replied omniously, then returned his attention to the television.

"Well . . . I guess I'll just take my chances, then," Anders said, shaking his head. Zuma was calling ~~and his player had to leave for work in a few minutes~~, so he got comfortable on the couch, un-paused the game, and got back to business making a little frog spit colored balls.

"Dude, what IS this??!?" Sokka asked with a grimace of disgust as he walked in. Instead of sitting down on the couch like he had been about to, he turned around and started looking for the remote.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fifth Floor Common Room, Wednesday Afternoon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject