fandomhighdorms | The roof, Saturday afternoon

Entry tags:

The roof, Saturday afternoon

Priestly had gotten up the energy to head for higher ground, today. He was perched crosslegged on the edge of the roof, his zombie-beating stick on one side of him, his phone on the other, looking out over the school grounds. His theory was that, from here, he could spot any approaching zombie threat and be prepared.

Or just, you know, be further away from it.

It was almost sort of thrilling, wasn't it? Put things in perspective. Why worry about petty image stuff or homework or whether the girl you were crushing on that week would notice your extra spikey hair? There were more important things out there. You could die crossing the street, choking on a sandwich, getting eaten by a zombie. It was . . . life reaffirming.

Or possibly that was just the pot he was smoking while he kept watch.

Hey, you dealt your way, he dealt his.

[ooc: open roof is as always open. Shaun of the Dead is on Comedy Central! EEEEEEEEE.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I...actually agree with you there," Chuck said, looking a little surprised. "People think too much about why they're doing something. They should just do stuff because it's fun and leave it at that."

"Well, it might be mostly the pot talking. But right now? I totally agree with that. Unless thinking about stuff is fun for you."

"Oh god, no. Totally not the broody type," Chuck said. That was kind of a lie. He could brood when the occasion called for it. "I'm certainly not going to spend any time brooding about the undead, anyway."

"Even when some of them are your former classmates?"

"I'm not brooding now, so, I guess that's a no," Chuck said easily. He felt bad about Francine and Temari but not enough to dwell on it. It's not like Blair or Nate had died or anything.

Priestly frowned. "How d'you manage that, man? I had to beat up zombie-Hurley and I can't get it outta my head."

Hurley was better off undead, in Chuck's opinion.

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's not like I do it on purpose. It's just how I am."

"That's either very zen, or very fucked up, man."

"That's the truth," Chuck agreed before taking a hit off his joint. "It works for me though."

"Well more power to ya."

"You don't seem very broody either," Chuck noticed. "Of course that might be due to the weed."

"I don't brood, man, I ponder. The weed probably isn't hurting."

"There's a difference between brooding and pondering?" Chuck asked.

"Brooding involves way more negative emotion."

"Fair enough," Chuck said with a nod. "I suppose I could take someone who is pondering. People who brood too much are annoying."

"Tell me about it, man. Who wants to be that depressed all the time?"

"People who don't want to have fun," Chuck decided. "They're trying to make the rest of us feel guilty."

"Assholes," Priestly said without much venom. "The lot of 'em."

Chuck started to laugh. "I couldn't agree more. Definitely assholes."

"So. Who's your money on, the zombies, or all the insane fighter people?"

"God, I hope it's the insane fighters," Chuck said. "I don't want to have to go out there and do stuff."

"Yeah, being stuck here would kinda suck a lot."

"That's an understatement," Chuck said. "You'd think with all these magical and Winchestery people around the problem would have cleared up by now."

Slackers, that's what they were.

"It has been going on since Wednesday. That's, like, half a week. On the other hand . . . walking undead."

"You'd think there would be at least one zombie expert here that would know what to do," Chuck said.

(no subject)

lovemykilt - 2009-04-04 21:47 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only