fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room | Sunday Evening

Entry tags:

@4th floor common room

Fourth Floor Common Room | Sunday Evening | 5/29

Freddie was having an argument with the TV.

And he was losing.

He sat on a couch, pizza slice on a plate in his lap (the pizza it came from was in a box nearby, open for anyone to grab a slice). The remote for the TV was in his hand, but no matter how many buttons he pressed, nothing was happening. The television remained on the Dingo Channel. On a rerun of Totally Terry.

"Oh what did I do to deserve this?" he cried out, pressing buttons. He couldn't even shut off the TV. "Saaaaaam!"

He blamed her by default, really.

[ooc: Open common room!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Who knew why Butters was on the fourth floor; it was probably better not to ask. But let's just say he got lost.

It was kind of hard to ignore what was coming out from the common room.

"G-gee," he said, poking his head in, "what's all the yellin' in here for?"

"I can't get the TV off the stupid Dingo Channel," Freddie explained, still pressing buttons. "It's the worst TV channel in the history of TV channels. And that's including the 'Watch Paint Dry' channel."

"E-even worse than TLC?"

Hard to believe that used to be called The Learning Channel, isn't it?

"O-or that one channel, the comedy one that plays that one show, with the crappy animation about those fourth graders? That show sure is stupid."

"I don't think I've watched that," Freddie admitted. "But right now, I'll take anything over Totally Terry and her stupid, iCarly ripping-off writers."

He sighed.

"I don't think I've seen either of them," Butters admitted; he seemed to want to see them, though, considering he had come on into the common room and was shifting a little on the couch to get comfortable and settle in. "What's it about?"

"Totally Terry?" Freddie said. "I've never seen a whole episode, actually. I just know they steal ideas from the web-show I work on. But I think it's your usual, brainless, 'oh no I've got two dates for the school dance' kind of chiz."

"Oh, geez," said Butters, fiddling with his fingers, "I sure hate when that happens. An' you go and try to take both of them, but you know someone's gonna find out eventually, and then you're in real trouble, then crab people come out up from the sewers and chop off everyone's heads, but of course they couldn't have...couldn't have shown up before your girlfriends found out that you were double playin' 'em..."

"...Crab people?" Freddie said, worried Butters was completely serious about that actually happening.

And he was, Freddie. Oh, yes. He was.

"Yeah." Butters frowned, clenching his fist a little in anger. "Those darn crab people, they're always showin' up and causin' all sorts of trouble. I'm sure you remember the metrosexual craze a while ago; thank Jesus that's over! That hair product made my scalp itch something real bad."

Freddie had no idea what to say.

"...Wow. How'd you survive a crab people attack?"

"Oh, it's not actually that hard," Butters said. "Usually, the girls just beat them up. They're pretty weak against women, which means we'd really pulverize 'em if we got to 'em."

"So no one actually got hurt, then?" Freddie said, hopefully. "Cause I'll admit, that bit about them cutting off heads was kind of scary."

"Poor Betty and Veronica," said Butters, shaking his head sadly. "They were real nice, too."

They'd actually also been robots, but Butters' hadn't known that part.

"Oh man," Freddie said, looking very sympathetic. "I am so sorry. I guess coming from a world that's that crazy has to be really hard in general, but that... that's some serious chiz."

"Yeah," Butters admitted, "but it's not too bad. There's lot of good stuff, too. Like we got Taylor Swift to show up! She's so pretty, and she definitely didn't let....hey, wait, a second, now that I think about it, I think she may have been the reason why the crab people crashed the party in the first place! Aw, hamburgers, I can't really remember...Maybe I made it all up..."

"...does that happen a lot?" Freddie asked, carefully. "I mean, thinking stuff you imagined actually happened. If it is, you definitely have a pretty amazing imagination, at least."

"Well," said Butters thoughtfully, "I was the Key to save everyone's Imaginations and Imaginationland from terrorists, and that took an awful lot of imagination, although I didn't even really want to be the key. So I guess that means I got the best imagination out of anyone..."

Look at it this way, Freddie. At least now you weren't stuck watching Totally Terry...

"Yeeeeah," Freddie said. "Did you want some pizza? There's some extra over there." He gestured. "There's parmesan and red pepper flakes if you need them."

"Oh, boy!" said Butters, happily hopping back up. "I love pizza! Almost as much as I love KFC. Thanks!"

"I don't really know anyone that doesn't like pizza," Freddie said. "Hey... you're in the Circus class, right?"

"Y-heah!" Butters said with a laugh, helping himself to a slice and putting it on a paper plate and then finding his way back to the couch. "That's me, Butters! I sure like that class, even if I think I'm only in it in case my parents decide to sell me off to one."

"I don't think you can sell people to circuses anymore," Freddie pointed out. "At least, where I come from. It's a bit illegal."

"Well, they did sell me to Paris Hilton once," Butters offered. "I bet a circus wouldn't be too much different."

Considering Paris Hilton was basically a one-person circus?

"...that is possibly one of the worst things I can think to do to someone," Freddie said, aghast. Yes, he was taking Butters at face value on that. "How'd you get out of that?"

"Well, she was gonna pay 'em 250 million dollars," Butters reasoned with a slight sigh. "But once I saw what happened to all of Miss Hilton's other pets, I ran away. I couldn't help it; I didn't want to wind up like them! Boy, my parents sure were mad and I'm still paying them back for all the money they lost, especially since after that, Paris Hilton l-lost the whore-off with Mr. Slave and we never heard from her again..."

As far as they knew, she was still working her way up Mr. Slave's digestive system, following the path of the great Lemmiwinks on behest of the Frog King to save herself.

...Or getting a new reality TV show on Oxygen. Goddammit, Oxygen.

Freddie really didn't know what to say.

The boy certainly out-weirded Gibby by a mile-and-a-half.

"...Well, glad you didn't end up meeting some horrible fate. Though it's a little unfair for your parents to make you pay for it."

"It's better than being grounded!" Butters pointed out logically.

"...I guess," Freddie said. "But it sounds like you've got worse parents than I do. My mom just makes me do things like sign a log that I shampooed twice during every shower."

"Why you gotta shampoo twice?" asked Butters, tilting his head and looking at the top of Freddie's head. "That seems like a waste, but you do have real nice hair, I'll give you that."

"Because apparently if you don't lather, rinse, and then repeat, you're doing it wrong," Freddie said. "At least now that I'm at school she can't give me tick baths. Those are the worst."

"Oh, boy!" said Butters, looking to Freddie with a new sort of companionship. "You gotta get tick baths, too? Ain't they just itchy? And smelly, too!"

"They're the worst," Freddie said. "And no one ever just accepts the fact that the smell is from a tick bath. Ever! And every time you tell your mom that you don't need it, she just says the lack of ticks shows that it's working!"

"Y-Yeah!" said Butters. "They do always say that! But, you know what, there was this one time, everyone in the class got lice. I tried to tell my mom that, and all that got me was an extra bath that week. You spend one night in a dog pound, and look what happens."

"...you had to spend the night in a dog pound?" Freddie said, making sure he'd heard that correctly.

"Yeah," Butters sighed sadly. "I had to go to the vet, 'cause the guys didn't wanna get in trouble by takin' me to a hospital, since I had to go on account of the ninja star in my eye and then they'd get in trouble for having all those weapons..."

But just look how well it's healed up!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fourth Floor Common Room | Sunday Evening | 5/29

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