fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room, Wednesday Evening

Current Mood: busy

Entry tags:

Fourth Floor Common Room, Wednesday Evening

There were things to think about and plans to make after some conversations last night and Hannibal felt a little cooped up and restless in his own room so he grabbed a pillow and headed down to the common room.

There wasn't any made up games tonight. Just a boy, a pillow, a movie that he wasn't really watching, a notepad of scribbled notes (that he can't believe he's actually taking) and a pizza on the floor in front of him.

He just hoped he could read his notes (silly and unnecessary as they were) since he was staining the paper with pizza from his fingers.

[Open CR is open!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"But I like my hair," Cal said, with a faint pout, as he patted his head.

"What about a pinkie? No one really needs pinkies unless they drink tea, and I don't like tea."

"You wouldn't be able to pinky swear," Hannibal pointed out. "That could be a deal breaker."

"Ah." Cal lifted up a finger. "You pinkie swear with your right hand. I just cut off the pinkie on my left."

"People might start calling you Stumpy," Hannibal said and laughed.

"No," Cal argued lightly, "that'd be if I cut off my whole left hand. Or the arm, up to the elbow."

He tucked in his arm, waving around the supposed stump-to-be.

"Can I call you Stumpy anyway?" he asked with another laugh. "I kinda like the nickname."

"If you get to call me Stumpy," Cal said, "then I get to call you..."

There was a pause.

"...I don't know yet. Give me a moment."

"Awesome?" Hannibal suggested. "Genius?"

"I was thinking more like...Douchebag."

Hannibal pretended to think about that one before he shook his head. "No, I'm not sure that one fits. Too long, not as easy to yell across great distances."

"How about Asshat?"

"All this animosity because I wanted to call you Stumpy?" Hannibal asked, raising an eyebrow.

"...I can't think of any good equivalent to Stumpy," Cal admitted. "So all I've got are insults. Nothing personal. Dickwad?"

"Limpdick," he suggested. "Evokes quite an image."

"...That is a good one," Cal conceded. "You're a lot better at this than I am. So you can stick with thinking of all the insipid names to call people, and I'll be responsible for creating the big important novel."

~~And freaking cookie monster gets me EVERY SINGLE TIME, there will be nightmares to night~~

"Probably for the best," he said with a nod. "Because I'll never write a novel. Unless I go to some backwoods mansion and go insane and have access to a typewriter."

~~MWHAHAHA. He wanted in on the namecalling too!~~

There was a long, long pause.

"That's actually not a bad idea."

Crazy shit always happened in backwoods mansions. Okay, so maybe the Object's place in Petosky wasn't quite a mansion, but it might as well have been.

"I just dunno if I'd be dead or in jail and wouldn't be able to enjoy my success," he pondered. "Insane guys don't tend to be loose very long."

"It all goes back around," Cal said, twirling a finger in the air, "to being more successful after you're dead, see?"

Edited 2008-12-04 02:46 (UTC)

"Good point," he said. "Only thing is, if my nickname sticks, they'd be remembering me as Limpdick King, the guy who went insane in the woods."

"Even more reason to be glad you're dead."

"And watch from above as my tombstone gets spraypainted with the words Limpdick in orange paint," he said. "I'd have to do some haunting."

"...Why orange?"

Cal would have gone red.

"Bright?" he said. "Ugly?"

Cal could accept that reasoning. "I'll make sure I've got some orange spraypaint on hand then."

(no subject)

decoder-rings.livejournal.com - 2008-12-04 03:13 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

not-a-mused.livejournal.com - 2008-12-04 03:23 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only