fandomhighdorms | Main Campfire, Thursday night

Entry tags:

Main Campfire, Thursday night

After hours of listening to the kitchen staff at Luke's go through their impromptu concerts (and doing a few of his own), Priestly was up for hearing as many different random bits of music as possible.

It was like a grab bag of different potential earworms. Music overload to get the damned stewpot drums out of his head. . . .

So he was settled in at the main campfire, lying on his back with his eyes closed and just listening as long as he could, before the urge to sing took over again.

[ooc: late, yes, but also open!]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Dinah was fleeing-- okay, Dinah wasn't fleeing, she was just leaving that little impromptu sing-fest with Arthur. And look, someone very non-Arthur. She made a bee-line to his side and flopped down next to him. "Hi."

Oh thank god. Not singing at the moment.

Priestly looked up and grinned.

Hey you
I gotta tell you my long time friend
I think of all those years you saw me through tears
and the good times that we spend
Hey you
You're my constant companion
You always let me explain just what I'm saying
and we've just begun
Ooooh

Well, that was one way to say hi.

Much better!

"You could say I lost my faith in science and progress." She frowned, and made a face.

"You could say I lost my belief in the holy church
You could say I lost my sense of direction
You could say all of this and worse, but--"

A deep breath:
"If I ever lose my faith in you
There'd be nothing left for me to do..."

Awwww, that was sweet! Priestly patted the grass next to him.

When the aliens come
When the death rays hum
When the bombers bomb
We'll still be freakin' friends

When the whip comes down
When they nuke the town
When dead clowns can't clown
We'll still be freakin' friends

Freakin' friends,
Freakin' friends,
Till we come to bad ends,
We're freakin' friends.

Dinah was chortling, and moved over to sit next to him, giving him an impromptu hug for that song, which was awesome. She needed a copy of that one.

"And if you call, I will answer
And if you fall, I'll pick you up
And if you court this disaster
Ill point you home... I'll point you home."

Okay, they were getting a little shmoopy here, weren't they? Well, he supposed it was that kind of day.

"You're a good friend, Dinah Lance,
You're the kind of reminder I need,
You have humility, nobility, and a sense of honor
That are very rare indeed!

You are kind to all the animals,
And every little bird,
With a heart of gold
You believe what you're told
(Every single solitary word. . . .)"

Priestly snapped his mouth shut. Well, at least there went some of the shmoopiness.

"Hey!" Dinah elbowed him, laughing. "Dork! Jerk-dork. Something."

"If I go crazy then will you still
call me Superman
If I'm alive and well, will you
be there
holdin' my hand
I'll keep you by my side with
my superhuman might
My
Kryptonite..." And she gave him another shove.

". . . Is that your 'be my Alfred' song?" Priestly sang in a warbling falsetto. "Beeeeee my Alfred!" he sang. "Won't you beeeeee! beeeeee my Alfred!"

It was . . . absolutely terrible. Clearly, Priestly was better off letting the island dictate his lyrics for him.

"It's better than Beeee my Yoko Ono," Dinah sang, then stopped, laughing hysterically. "Or...

Akua tuta tshekuan kaminekuin
Akua tuta
Naketuenta kiei tshin tshekuan
Kanetaunekuin
Hey hey hey hey
Hey hey hey hey..." She paused. "Okay. Random."

Priestly had no idea what that meant. So he answered in kind.

"Wer kann schon sagen, was mit uns geschieht,
vielleicht stimmt es ja doch,
dass das Leben eine Prüfung ist,
in der wir uns bewähren sollen.

Nur wer sie mit Eins besteht,
darf in den Himmel kommen.
Für den ganzen dreckigen Rest
bleibt die Hölle der Wiedergeburt.

Als Tourist auf Ibiza,
als Verkehrspolizist,
als ein Clown in einer Zirkusshow,
den keiner sehen will. "

Stare. Stare. Stare. "Was that German? Since when do you speak German?"

"Uh, since now?" Priestly gave it a shot. "Sprikken see dutch?"

Yeah, not so much.

"Damn, it's such a good punk language."

"Hunh." Dinah tried to sing in German: "Nine ich nine luft--" And then the song changed on her.

"I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so!" Dinah blinked. Then fell over laughing.

Priestly let out a terribly undignified giggle-snort noise.

"I am not your broom
I am not your broom
I've had enough, I'm throwing off
My chains of servitude

I am not your broom
I am not your broom
No longer must I sweep for you
For I am not your broom"

Okay, the squeaky noises are getting into the range of baby toys now. "You are not the broom! Fight the power! Yes!" She was going to go on in that vein, but:

"Long ago in days of yore
It all began with a god named Thor
There were Vikings and boats
And some plans for a furniture store
It’s not a bodega, it’s not a mall
And they sell things for apartments smaller than mine
As if there were apartments smaller than mine

Ikea: just some oak and some pine and a handful of Norsemen
Ikea: selling furniture for college kids and divorced men
Everyone has a home
But if you don’t have a home you can buy one there!"

Priestly laughed and leaned over to bump her shoulder with his own.

A bouncy guitar started up.

You sat down on our leather chair
Called everyone
Said stick your toes all up in the air, "Come on it'll be fun!"
Some tried they thought you were a little strange
They were all right
We did thirteen-thousand exercises
They were all ashamed
But we were all okay

Dinah hopped to her feet and twirled, hair spinning out around her.

"You called me up said 'Girl, you can't handle this!'
I was uptight
Only punches below the neck
Not the pretty face
They all came and they gathered 'round
Now is our time
Chaos was followed by stupid laughs..."

Priestly got up to join her in the twirling.

"But I don't even care.
No I don't even care."

And Dinah joined him in harmony, dancing around like a goof:

"But I don't even care.
No I don't even care."

Priestly threw his arms out and danced around like the total spaz he was.

"Do-do do do do do do-do-do,
Do-do do do do do do-do-do,"

Then stood stock still, nodding along as the music hit a brief break before starting in again.

"Do-do do do do do do-do-do. . . ."

"Do-do do do do do do-do-do. . . ." And dance with Priestly until they both fell down next to the fire, exhausted.

'Cause really, that's what music is for.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Main Campfire, Thursday night

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