fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [05/17].

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Third Floor Common Room; Monday Morning [05/17].

There was, that morning, a low, disgruntled humming sound emiting from deep within the throat of the young, broad-shouldered man stooping slightly to peer into the refrigerator that seemed to no longer hold any of the fine produce and ingredients that he had picked up for Monday morning breakfast anymore, but instead held a lot less and nothing that seemed particularly appetising.

Least of all because Wayne got this distinct feeling that things had changed again, and, really, now, if you were going to be a weird island with things like aliens and talking cats and dogs and magic and whatever the fuck else, it seemed that the least you could do was just stay the same type of weird for a while instead of going and mixing it up and giving everyone fucking whiplash all the time. It just seemed impolite; get your shit together, island. Clean it up.

The cabinets didn't seem to fare much better, though he did find a few bags of potatoes and an exorbitant amount of potatoes (not very good potatoes, really, they were some of the saddest potatoes he'd ever seen, but they'd do) and canned gravy in there.

And if a good old Canadian country boy like himself couldn't make do with potatoes and gravy (and some mystery meat, too), well, then, he might as well just turn in his citizenship right now, pack up, and move on out to El-Laaaay to go eat tah-cos and go hiking, fuck.

[[ /monday spam! Open common room is open, it's breakfast, it's tradition noooooow!]]

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Vette hummed a little, processing that -- okay, so Mister Fluffycakes had probably gone into stubborn mode -- and then nodded, eating another potato and some... cheese substitute... before talking again.

"Yeah, there are things. This place plays fast and loose with the laws of spacetime. It's annoying."

There was an understatement.

"That," Wayne grunted again, this time with the firm conviction of someone who'd found something that wasn't going to go changing on him and planned to hold onto it with dear life, "is a Texas-sized 10-4."

That it was annoying?

Totally a constant, yup!

"In the meantime, hey, there's potatoes and mystery meat," Vette noted. "Breakfast continues as usual, more or less."

She seemed to be enjoying it, for what it was worth?

"Oh," said Wayne, because, if anything, these conversations were merely giving him all the fuel he needed to fire his campaign to ensure consistence in some things while the world seemed to just go to hell in a handbasket, and here he hadn't even seen outside yet, "you bet your blue ass breakfast will cotninue as usual, you can count on that. I don't even care if I have to raise myself up from the dead one of these Mondays, there's gonna be breakfast. Even if I've got to squeeze blood from a fuckin' stone, I'll fuckin' do it."

Brow furrowed, shoulders squared, chin lifted, like a man ready to face a mountain.

"It's the fuckin' most important meal of the fuckin' day, and if this place has a problem with breakfast, then it's got a problem with me, and I suggest you let that one marinate."

"Duly marinated," Vette replied, nodding solemnly. "That said, I would love to see you get blood from a stone. I bet that's a heck of a sight."

"Oh, well," said Wayne, his tone shifting entirely from the fierce determination to one of just mild conversation,"in that case, most of the blood just winds up being from your own hand. It's pert'near impossible to get blood from a stone, tgat's the whole point, but I bet there's some stones out there that might, but I ain't ever seen on."

And he'd seen plenty of stones, he sort of felt like an expert, there were lots of stones that needed picking out of fields...

"Yeah, I'm pretty familiar with stones, too," Vette offered. She wasn't going to offer why. Ever. "Pretty sure I haven't seen any bleed, but it's a big galaxy." A beat. "Multiverse, even."

....Vette.

You'd think talking to an alien on the regular would help Wayne lose that face when mention thing like multiverse, but then you'd be wrong.

But while the face wasn't going anywhere, he could at least offer a fairly reasonable, "Oh, well, I'm sure rhey're out there somewhere, then," even if he didnt care to think about where.

"Probably somewhere," Vette agreed easily. "Or else we're both just completely full of poodoo. One of those things."

...poo...doo?

Wayne frowned, turning to Vette a little as he considered saying something, stopped, considered it again and then ventured, "Is that some kind of alien word for shit?"

Because the only excuse he'll allow for her saying a word like poodoo when there was a perfectly good word like shit was because it was an alien thing. Naturally, he could allow that, but even if you're trying to just be polite, there was nothing worse than giving an awkwardly cutesy name to something that had no right being cutesy.

Vette paused.

"Uh. No?" She squinted a little. "It's the stuff they feed to banthas. It smells a little like shit, though...? I mean, I'd almost rather be full of crap, I think."

Wayne almost asked what sort of self-respecting creature would eat something that smelled like shit, but then he remembered that dogs usually ate their own, and dogs were great, you just had to remember that when they tried to lick your face, so...

"In a waaaaay," he said instead, squinting, "more often than not, you usually are." But that wasn't exactly polite to talk about. "So's I guess...I guess all I've got to ask now is...what in the ever-loving fuck is a bantha?"

Vette blinked, and then broke into a little laugh.

"Besides delicious?"

This was a helpful reply, right?

"Big, big shaggy desert animal. People keep them as transport animals and for food, mostly."

Wayne might have quirked a bit of a skeptical eyebrow about the delicious part, but...he was a farmer. The animals people ate were pretty gross, when you got right down to it, so it was allowed a pass.

Especially since now he sort of wanted to try a little bantha for himself, wondering how one might prepare it, compared to steaks or chops or whatever else. Probably definitely on a grill. Everything was better on a grill.

"So...maybe a bit like a camel?" he wondered. "Just maybe hairier, though I think some camels can get pretty hairy, too..."

"I... have no idea what a camel is," Vette admitted, smiling a little crookedly. "Maybe? Do people eat camels?"

"Fuck, people'll eat pert'near anything," Wayne said. "There's people out there'll eat cats and dogs. So you know there's gotta be some fuckers out there who just can't wait to go chompin' on a camel."

Wayne, who didn't much like to use his phone and used it in a way that made that very clear, still understood that his phone was a good resource for moments like this, pulled it out of his back pocket, and Google that shit so he could give Vette a better idea, turning it toward her to see once he felt he found a good picture.

"Ohmygosh," Vette whispered as she leaned in for a good look. "They're so round!"

Look at those big squishy camel bellies!

"... But those don't look anything like bantha do. Those are closer to eopies, maybe, only eopies have little trunks." She considered for a moment, and then added, "Bantha are much more broad, all over. Maybe as tall as the ceiling in here, but they do have the four legs, and big curling horns?"

Wayne considered this new description carefully, eyes narrowed in thought, before he took to his phone again.

"More like there?" he asked, turning the phone to show her another picture. "Only..." His eyes drifted up to the ceiling. "...bigger?"

"Ooh, the horns are right on," Vette said, nodding with enough enthusiasm that her lekku flopped around behind her. "Buuuut yeah, you want something way more heavy-set than that. Those spindly little legs would never hold up a bantha."

Bolstered by the success with the horns, Wayne nodded again, thought again, and googled thing up again.

"Legs more like this?" he asked, showing another picture.

Look, he just really liked animals and putting together whatever monster hybrid animal existed in Vette's world was actually kind of fascinating for him.

He could do this all day until he got it right, really.

Vette blinked as she looked at the picture.

"Oh, wow," she replied, nodding. "Make it even more shaggy than that, and you've got almost the perfect body shape, actually. Then you give it a big long tail that kinda drags like a lizard's, and a mouth sort of like a frog's."

Bantha!

"Mouth like a...!"

Apparently, there was a point in weird hybrid alien animals where Wayne drew a fucking line, letting out an offended sound before glowering a little.

"Jesus fuck," he wanted to know, "what the fuck was space-god smoking when he or she came up with that one?"

"Deathsticks, probably," Vette replied with a shrug. "I don't know, but if you think bantha are weird, maybe I shouldn't tell you about rancors or acklays."

Was she smirking? She was smirking.

"Maybe someday I'll be able to get home again, and I'll totally drag everyone to a zoo to prove I'm not completely nuts when I talk about these things."

"Hey, now," said Wayne, "we've still got skunks."

He remembered what you thought about skunks, there, Vette.

"And possums. Possums are North America's only marsupials, and those are immune to snake venom. THey could probably survive a nuclear blast. They have forked fuckin' penises. They're mutants."

"Blurrgs," Vette piped up. "They've got two legs and little tiny arms, kind of like some of the reptiles that were around the other week? But besides that, they're pretty much all head. They're pretty great."

Who didn't love a good blurrg?

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