Megan Jacobson was seriously the smartest person on the face of the Earth.
As the waitress dropped another refill of Diet Coke in front of her (which was like, what, her fourth in about an hour, but who was counting?) Megan grinned from ear to ear. She hoisted the glass up and took a massive sip, keeping it clutched in her hand and she continued on her rant.
"I mean, it makes total sense. I know there's not a snowball's chance in hell that I'll get published in, like, ever. Although, actually, maybe there is a snowball's chance in hell? I'm honestly not sure how that phrase works." She sipped again, considering. "Besides, aren't there parts of Hell that are cold? I'm pretty sure Dante said that Heretics get frozen or some shit. I should know, I'm headed straight to the 6th circle, but, you know, semantics. Anyway, I'm pretty sure there are hot parts of hell for the ho's or something, which is where snowball's would melt, and therefore not have a chance. Like I don't have a chance at ever getting published."
Megan chewed on french fry, nodding. "See? I always have a point."
She grabbed her glass, nodding to herself and glancing around Shooter's. She had to admit, she had a soft part for the greaser food and grungy tables of the place. Besides, no one here judged her for her massive Diet Coke thing. People at McDonalds always judged her for her Diet Coke thing. Apparently ordering a medium and refilling it 4 times is frowned upon, or whatever. Judgmental bitches.
It seriously wasn't that bad, or anything. She glanced at her half-full glass, wondering how long she'd actually had that drink, and then remembering that she really didn't give a fuck. She took another sip and let out a satisfied sigh.
"But, right, like I was saying about the chances and shit. It's a brilliant plan, really. You have your camera, I have my crazy, we both like movies, and we both have internet connection! I rant to camera, we put it on YouTube, we get a few hundred thousand views, sell ads, make a Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Blog, yada, yada, yada, and Bam! Internet fame! Who needs to be published when idiots will read my terrible poetic shit on the internet!"
She nodded vehemently, finishing her drink with a flourish. Despite still having a full basket of fries and a half eaten basket of chicken fingers, Megan reached across and snatched one of her companion's fries.
"Anthony, this is the best idea we've ever had. I ever had. You ever had. Whatever! It's fucking awesome, is the point!"
The waitress came with another Diet Coke. Megan grinned stupidly at her.
Seriously. Life was good. And very caffeinated.
Pre-Production
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Casey The Undead*
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- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Pre-Production
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Anthony Rollins was the most patient person on the face of the Earth.
Words. Megan had a lot of them. It was how she worked. Give her the stage, and she'd do a one-woman show.
Anthony worked mostly by listening. Quirking his eyebrows at the right times to show he was interested. Letting out a mildly exasperated sight as she grabbed one of his fries. You know, without asking. That shit didn't come cheap. Especially when one didn't have a job.
The third Diet Coke came, and Megan grinned that shark-grin at it. Anthony reached out and plucked it from her side, slid it to his own.
"Easy. Any more and I can use you to recharge my Canon's batteries."
He took a bite of his burger, a greasy ball of delicious that had a fried egg topping off the beef. He set it back down, thinking.
"So there's an idea. But what are you gonna talk about?"
Anthony smiled, grabbed one of his fries. His fries.
"I mean, I know you can talk for an hour. But people need focus. And maybe less Diet Coke."
Words. Megan had a lot of them. It was how she worked. Give her the stage, and she'd do a one-woman show.
Anthony worked mostly by listening. Quirking his eyebrows at the right times to show he was interested. Letting out a mildly exasperated sight as she grabbed one of his fries. You know, without asking. That shit didn't come cheap. Especially when one didn't have a job.
The third Diet Coke came, and Megan grinned that shark-grin at it. Anthony reached out and plucked it from her side, slid it to his own.
"Easy. Any more and I can use you to recharge my Canon's batteries."
He took a bite of his burger, a greasy ball of delicious that had a fried egg topping off the beef. He set it back down, thinking.
"So there's an idea. But what are you gonna talk about?"
Anthony smiled, grabbed one of his fries. His fries.
"I mean, I know you can talk for an hour. But people need focus. And maybe less Diet Coke."
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Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Megan definitely did not whimper as the glass slipped away from her, and anyone in the vicinity who said she did would be castrated for how very wrong they were, thankyouverymuch.
"Anthony. No. My aspartame!" Megan clasped her hands together and flung her elbows onto the table. "You can't do this to a girl!"
Anthony, in classic fashion, ignored her, because he was smart and had been dealing with her for long enough to know that Megan was pretty much guaranteed to die of stomach cancer at this point from the crazy amount of aspartame she consumed. Instead, he swerved back to the conversation they'd been having about being awesome and internet famous, and away from the delicious, refreshing amber liquid that was Diet Coke.
"You know, if this whole internet fame doesn't work out, I could probably advertise for Diet Coke." She blinked and turned back to her french fries, abandoning the pursuit of her falsely sweetened drink for the minute.
"I dunno what I'm gonna talk about. I could spew my liberal-hippie propaganda, I guess. But that probably wouldn't make me that famous." She chewed thoughtfully.
Megan's cell phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it, having forgotten it existed at all. It was a pointless text, really- another Facebook update, which, really, why the hell did she get those to her phone, even?- but Megan was far more interested by something else.
Her ringtone was Soulman, as made popular by The Blues Brothers, and the jazzy little tune reminded Megan of the one thing she knew best.
"Movies!" She snapped her fingers, turning back to Anthony. "I could talk about movies! Or TV! Like, review stuff! I mean, there are about a million of those on the internet, but I'm more...uh..." She struggled for an accurate adjective. "Pale?" She shrugged halfheartedly, gazing at the whiteboard that was her skin. "Seriously, people could do their math homework on me."
Megan gestured wildly. "Damnit, I'm digressing again, there was a point here! Somewhere! Which was, uh, movies. Yes. I could review movies. Or, like, Mystery Science Theater some shit. Make witty commentary."
She snatched up another fry, and made a grab for her Diet Coke (which she would rescue from Anthony's evil clutches eventually).
"You know, be generally awesome. Like I usually am!"
"Anthony. No. My aspartame!" Megan clasped her hands together and flung her elbows onto the table. "You can't do this to a girl!"
Anthony, in classic fashion, ignored her, because he was smart and had been dealing with her for long enough to know that Megan was pretty much guaranteed to die of stomach cancer at this point from the crazy amount of aspartame she consumed. Instead, he swerved back to the conversation they'd been having about being awesome and internet famous, and away from the delicious, refreshing amber liquid that was Diet Coke.
"You know, if this whole internet fame doesn't work out, I could probably advertise for Diet Coke." She blinked and turned back to her french fries, abandoning the pursuit of her falsely sweetened drink for the minute.
"I dunno what I'm gonna talk about. I could spew my liberal-hippie propaganda, I guess. But that probably wouldn't make me that famous." She chewed thoughtfully.
Megan's cell phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it, having forgotten it existed at all. It was a pointless text, really- another Facebook update, which, really, why the hell did she get those to her phone, even?- but Megan was far more interested by something else.
Her ringtone was Soulman, as made popular by The Blues Brothers, and the jazzy little tune reminded Megan of the one thing she knew best.
"Movies!" She snapped her fingers, turning back to Anthony. "I could talk about movies! Or TV! Like, review stuff! I mean, there are about a million of those on the internet, but I'm more...uh..." She struggled for an accurate adjective. "Pale?" She shrugged halfheartedly, gazing at the whiteboard that was her skin. "Seriously, people could do their math homework on me."
Megan gestured wildly. "Damnit, I'm digressing again, there was a point here! Somewhere! Which was, uh, movies. Yes. I could review movies. Or, like, Mystery Science Theater some shit. Make witty commentary."
She snatched up another fry, and made a grab for her Diet Coke (which she would rescue from Anthony's evil clutches eventually).
"You know, be generally awesome. Like I usually am!"
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Anthony pulled back the Diet Coke and set it in the booth next to him. The idea she pitched did intrigue him. It'd be easy to shoot. Get some shots of the movie in question. Maybe cut up some B-roll for non-sequitur jokes. Hell, the only shooting he'd have to do would be of Megan, being Megan.
The lightning might be an issue. Girl was so pale it would be like filming snow for a half hour.
As he thought about it, he nodded, rubbing his chin.
"Could work."
He took another bite of burger. Halfway through chewing it, he smiled, devilishly.
"Fanservice. That'll get us some early adopters."
He almost snickered as he chewed.
"Megan's Bikini Movie Hour. We'll be famous overnight."
He swallowed.
The lightning might be an issue. Girl was so pale it would be like filming snow for a half hour.
As he thought about it, he nodded, rubbing his chin.
"Could work."
He took another bite of burger. Halfway through chewing it, he smiled, devilishly.
"Fanservice. That'll get us some early adopters."
He almost snickered as he chewed.
"Megan's Bikini Movie Hour. We'll be famous overnight."
He swallowed.
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Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Megan glared at Anthony. It wasn't even her playful "Oh-you're-so-funny-but-I'm-supposed-to-be-annoyed-and-not-amused glare." It was her "I-will-rain-ulmighty-vengance-upon-you-with-my-super-awesome-death-eyes glare." That was not a glare to be messed with.
Although, even her "overly-long-windedly-named-death-glare" just made her look like a puppy who was having a rather difficult time figuring out how to rip apart a shoe.
Megan picked up a fry and flung it at Anthony's head, sticking out her tongue as she did so. "Asshole. Just because I have an awesome rack does not mean that I am going to flaunt around in a bikini. Besides, I'd probably blind half the viewing audience with the white."
She pointed to the greasy food in front of her. "Besides, with my shoving all this stuff down my gullet, my flab will take up 90% of the screen."
Megan picked up a chicken finger and cleared her throat, setting herself in her best political speech voice. "In conclusion, I simply do not think that America is ready for this jelly."
She took a bite, nodded, and made another leap for her Diet Coke.
Although, even her "overly-long-windedly-named-death-glare" just made her look like a puppy who was having a rather difficult time figuring out how to rip apart a shoe.
Megan picked up a fry and flung it at Anthony's head, sticking out her tongue as she did so. "Asshole. Just because I have an awesome rack does not mean that I am going to flaunt around in a bikini. Besides, I'd probably blind half the viewing audience with the white."
She pointed to the greasy food in front of her. "Besides, with my shoving all this stuff down my gullet, my flab will take up 90% of the screen."
Megan picked up a chicken finger and cleared her throat, setting herself in her best political speech voice. "In conclusion, I simply do not think that America is ready for this jelly."
She took a bite, nodded, and made another leap for her Diet Coke.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"I guess it's just too bootylicious for us, babe."
Anthony stiff-armed Megan back down, playfully. The Diet Coke was still in his possession.
"Fine, no gimmick. But you might wanna get a script down."
He took another bite of burger.
"Don't get me wrong, Megan just talking can get pretty funny. But we'll need direction."
He took a sip of his drink.
"Be damned if I fill up memory cards with you rambling."
Anthony stiff-armed Megan back down, playfully. The Diet Coke was still in his possession.
"Fine, no gimmick. But you might wanna get a script down."
He took another bite of burger.
"Don't get me wrong, Megan just talking can get pretty funny. But we'll need direction."
He took a sip of his drink.
"Be damned if I fill up memory cards with you rambling."
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Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
"You know what Anthony? You know what? Haters gonna hate." Megan smacked the top of her chest defensively, tossing her hands into the air. A second passed before she rubbed the area she hit, wincing with the pain. Right, yeah, not a good idea.
"I am fucking hilarious. Just, like. The funniest." Megan picked up a fry, considered eating it, and then put it to better use by lobbing it at Anthony's head. "You just cannot fathom the amount of absolute, jaw-dropping amazing that leaks out of my pores. You are too mortal for my powers. You do not have the power to posses the one ring."
Megan tore apart a chicken finger. "In other news, I'm pretty sure I might be a Hobbit." She took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, before continuing. "I mean, I fit all the signs. I'm short. I have cool hair. I have a somewhat stupid name. I don't have hairy feet, but, you know, that's a less important aspect. I like rings. And I definitely fit the whole 'second-breakfast' thing. Like, I eat like a motherfucker." She took another bite, as if to emphasize her point.
"Not that people who fuck mothers eat more than people who fuck other people. Just, you know, turn of phrase. Actually, you know, I don't know why 'motherfucker' is such a bad phrase. Like, everyone's Dad is a motherfucker. Why is it so bad to fuck mothers? Mother's deserve sex too!" Megan slammed her fist on the table, causing everything to rattle dangerously. "In fact, I think the phrase motherfucker is oppressive, and turns people off of the idea of fornicating with women after they have given birth. That's sexism. I think. Kinda." She shrugged. "Okay, not really, but whatever, that's not the point. The point is that mother's are not getting fucked enough because language has betrayed them!" She paused here, tapping her chin in consideration. "You know, maybe that's why everyone in my house is so miserable all of the time."
Megan blinked, turning back to Anthony and frowning. "Wait, this wasn't what we were talking about. We were talking about something important. Not motherfucking. Or Hobbits. Even though, you know, Hobbits are vital to the evolution of fantasy writing, and without them we wouldn't have glorious works of fiction like A Song of Ice and Fire. Not to mention, they garner respect for short people like no one else."
She took another bite of her chicken before realizing, again, that she'd veered into a dangerous track that was very much not the conversation they were supposed to be having. "Gah! I mean. What? What even?" She sighed in defeat, slumping further into her seat. "I swear to god I don't even know what the words that come out of my mouth are anymore."
Halfheartedly, she lobbed another fry at Anthony. "You could probably tape me talking randomly for half an hour and show it to psychiatric wards. They'd name a disease after me. We'd be rich."
It probably should have bothered her more how very true that was. The scientists would love to use her brain for science. Imagine all the dark secrets inside of her! "They'd cut me open!" Megan cried, not quite realizing she was speaking aloud until after she'd said it.
"Uh. I mean." She paused, looking for something suitable to say. "Can I have my fucking Diet Coke back, douchenozzle?"
"I am fucking hilarious. Just, like. The funniest." Megan picked up a fry, considered eating it, and then put it to better use by lobbing it at Anthony's head. "You just cannot fathom the amount of absolute, jaw-dropping amazing that leaks out of my pores. You are too mortal for my powers. You do not have the power to posses the one ring."
Megan tore apart a chicken finger. "In other news, I'm pretty sure I might be a Hobbit." She took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, before continuing. "I mean, I fit all the signs. I'm short. I have cool hair. I have a somewhat stupid name. I don't have hairy feet, but, you know, that's a less important aspect. I like rings. And I definitely fit the whole 'second-breakfast' thing. Like, I eat like a motherfucker." She took another bite, as if to emphasize her point.
"Not that people who fuck mothers eat more than people who fuck other people. Just, you know, turn of phrase. Actually, you know, I don't know why 'motherfucker' is such a bad phrase. Like, everyone's Dad is a motherfucker. Why is it so bad to fuck mothers? Mother's deserve sex too!" Megan slammed her fist on the table, causing everything to rattle dangerously. "In fact, I think the phrase motherfucker is oppressive, and turns people off of the idea of fornicating with women after they have given birth. That's sexism. I think. Kinda." She shrugged. "Okay, not really, but whatever, that's not the point. The point is that mother's are not getting fucked enough because language has betrayed them!" She paused here, tapping her chin in consideration. "You know, maybe that's why everyone in my house is so miserable all of the time."
Megan blinked, turning back to Anthony and frowning. "Wait, this wasn't what we were talking about. We were talking about something important. Not motherfucking. Or Hobbits. Even though, you know, Hobbits are vital to the evolution of fantasy writing, and without them we wouldn't have glorious works of fiction like A Song of Ice and Fire. Not to mention, they garner respect for short people like no one else."
She took another bite of her chicken before realizing, again, that she'd veered into a dangerous track that was very much not the conversation they were supposed to be having. "Gah! I mean. What? What even?" She sighed in defeat, slumping further into her seat. "I swear to god I don't even know what the words that come out of my mouth are anymore."
Halfheartedly, she lobbed another fry at Anthony. "You could probably tape me talking randomly for half an hour and show it to psychiatric wards. They'd name a disease after me. We'd be rich."
It probably should have bothered her more how very true that was. The scientists would love to use her brain for science. Imagine all the dark secrets inside of her! "They'd cut me open!" Megan cried, not quite realizing she was speaking aloud until after she'd said it.
"Uh. I mean." She paused, looking for something suitable to say. "Can I have my fucking Diet Coke back, douchenozzle?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Fuck, why didn't he have the camera on now? Anthony got the feeling he had just missed about a minute and a half of pure gold just now.
"Sure, whorebiscuit."
Anthony handed Megan back her Diet Coke, his exercise in control properly completed.
"Anyways, I don't think your guts hold anything particularly key to you." He paused. "Except gallons of that shit." He gestured to her drink.
"We can shoot at my house. Basement's got decent lighting. I can set up some more. Just not looking forward to cutting up clips of whatever it is you're talking about. Any ideas for a first show?"
"Sure, whorebiscuit."
Anthony handed Megan back her Diet Coke, his exercise in control properly completed.
"Anyways, I don't think your guts hold anything particularly key to you." He paused. "Except gallons of that shit." He gestured to her drink.
"We can shoot at my house. Basement's got decent lighting. I can set up some more. Just not looking forward to cutting up clips of whatever it is you're talking about. Any ideas for a first show?"
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Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Megan made a small, offended sound in the back of her throat, raising her eyebrows. "Whorebiscuit? You know, young ladies such as yourself shouldn't use such naughty, naughty language."
As Anthony slid the Diet Coke back to her, Megan did her best to act as schooled as possible. Calmly she took the drink from him, nodded in a brief "Ha Ha, Aren't I So Much Better Than You?" way, and then gulped down three large sips in as many seconds.
She waited for him to stop talking, drumming her fingers against the glass. "Firstly, my guts are absolutely beautiful. They are the key to my success. Secondly, yes, they do hold gallons of this shit, but they also hold gallons of coffee, thankyouverymuch."
By that logic, they also held gallons of milk (or half and half), and two packets of Splenda. Megan had had two cups of that stuff before she'd left to hang out with Anthony. How was she expected to function in the morning without it?
She blinked, remembering that there was actually a conversation she had to pay attention too going on here. "I like your basement. Mine has millipedes. And florescent lighting. Gross." She grimaced. Fucking millipedes. Those things were practically Megan's arch-enemy, right next to normality and people who tried to tell her that Diet Coke would give her stomach cancer.
"As for show ideas, I am going to be a lazy fuck and say that I've got nothing. We could go to a movie, I guess. What's playing?" She shrugged, picking at her food. "You can choose the flick, I'll do the review."
She crunched on a french fry, before remembering the key part.
"Oh! Only pick movies with hot guys in them. I refuse to sit through a shitty movie if it lacks proper hotness."
As Anthony slid the Diet Coke back to her, Megan did her best to act as schooled as possible. Calmly she took the drink from him, nodded in a brief "Ha Ha, Aren't I So Much Better Than You?" way, and then gulped down three large sips in as many seconds.
She waited for him to stop talking, drumming her fingers against the glass. "Firstly, my guts are absolutely beautiful. They are the key to my success. Secondly, yes, they do hold gallons of this shit, but they also hold gallons of coffee, thankyouverymuch."
By that logic, they also held gallons of milk (or half and half), and two packets of Splenda. Megan had had two cups of that stuff before she'd left to hang out with Anthony. How was she expected to function in the morning without it?
She blinked, remembering that there was actually a conversation she had to pay attention too going on here. "I like your basement. Mine has millipedes. And florescent lighting. Gross." She grimaced. Fucking millipedes. Those things were practically Megan's arch-enemy, right next to normality and people who tried to tell her that Diet Coke would give her stomach cancer.
"As for show ideas, I am going to be a lazy fuck and say that I've got nothing. We could go to a movie, I guess. What's playing?" She shrugged, picking at her food. "You can choose the flick, I'll do the review."
She crunched on a french fry, before remembering the key part.
"Oh! Only pick movies with hot guys in them. I refuse to sit through a shitty movie if it lacks proper hotness."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Anthony shrugged. "Fuck, I dunno. Whatever the drivel is they pass off as films nowadays."
Anthony was just being jaded. There were movies out that he enjoyed. Just none he could think of off the top of his head.
He finished off his fries, licked his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe something old and shitty? If there's anything you're better at than drinking Diet Coke and reflecting light, it's ranting about old bullshit."
He sat back in his chair, really thinking about it now. A light came across his eyes and his mouth as he smiled.
"I got a copy of this delightful gem called Pinata Survival Island. S'about a killer pinata that goes around killing kids. And everyone's dead fucking serious about it." He sipped his own Cherry Coke. "My ma taped it off the TV years ago, never burned it."
Anthony was just being jaded. There were movies out that he enjoyed. Just none he could think of off the top of his head.
He finished off his fries, licked his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe something old and shitty? If there's anything you're better at than drinking Diet Coke and reflecting light, it's ranting about old bullshit."
He sat back in his chair, really thinking about it now. A light came across his eyes and his mouth as he smiled.
"I got a copy of this delightful gem called Pinata Survival Island. S'about a killer pinata that goes around killing kids. And everyone's dead fucking serious about it." He sipped his own Cherry Coke. "My ma taped it off the TV years ago, never burned it."
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Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
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Megan practically spilled her Diet Coke.
Well, practically. She's not that careless, come on.
But, seriously, there was a movie called Pinata Survival Island? Maybe there was a God. Maybe there was a little, tiny God, waaaay up in heaven, sitting down and thinking thoughts like "Hm, I wonder what will make Megan Jacobson happy today? I know, I'll make a movie about a serial killing pinata. And a movie about surfing Nazi Zombies. And a sequel to Cabin Fever. And I'll bring Castiel back on Supernatural. Yes. These are good things."
Well, Amen.
"I feel like I have literally never been happier. Please. Bring me to this movie. Take me to this movie."
Megan shook her head in awe.
"The people who made this movie should have called me. Why was I not in this movie? I don't care what year is was made. They should have built a time machine, gotten me, and made this movie, with me in it. Now I can never be an actress. There will never be more perfection in the world. You cannot top fucking zombie pinata serial killers."
Slowly, Megan stacked several of her remaining fries into a smiley face.
"This is how pleased I am. I can only show my joy in french fries." She squeaked a little, hopping up in her seat. "This is just the best fucking thing I have heard all day! Aha!"
Seriously, God, thank you. Thank you. I swear I will never complain about the ending of Lost again. Or the inaccuracy of Noah's Arc. Or Tara dying in Buffy. Never.
Well.
Much.
Megan ate her fry-smiley with a grin.
Well, practically. She's not that careless, come on.
But, seriously, there was a movie called Pinata Survival Island? Maybe there was a God. Maybe there was a little, tiny God, waaaay up in heaven, sitting down and thinking thoughts like "Hm, I wonder what will make Megan Jacobson happy today? I know, I'll make a movie about a serial killing pinata. And a movie about surfing Nazi Zombies. And a sequel to Cabin Fever. And I'll bring Castiel back on Supernatural. Yes. These are good things."
Well, Amen.
"I feel like I have literally never been happier. Please. Bring me to this movie. Take me to this movie."
Megan shook her head in awe.
"The people who made this movie should have called me. Why was I not in this movie? I don't care what year is was made. They should have built a time machine, gotten me, and made this movie, with me in it. Now I can never be an actress. There will never be more perfection in the world. You cannot top fucking zombie pinata serial killers."
Slowly, Megan stacked several of her remaining fries into a smiley face.
"This is how pleased I am. I can only show my joy in french fries." She squeaked a little, hopping up in her seat. "This is just the best fucking thing I have heard all day! Aha!"
Seriously, God, thank you. Thank you. I swear I will never complain about the ending of Lost again. Or the inaccuracy of Noah's Arc. Or Tara dying in Buffy. Never.
Well.
Much.
Megan ate her fry-smiley with a grin.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Anthony raised a palm, gesturing for his mildly hyperactive partner in crime to apply the brakes.
"Easy there. We don't want to waste that energy on those fries. There's millions on the web that'll watch your underage ass go on and on, so we need you to save it."
He finished his pop.
"And yes, Pinata Survival Island is a thing. Maybe we'll get you a spot if they ever make a sequel."
Anthony snorted and smiled. "Xander from Buffy's in it. You might be interested."
"Easy there. We don't want to waste that energy on those fries. There's millions on the web that'll watch your underage ass go on and on, so we need you to save it."
He finished his pop.
"And yes, Pinata Survival Island is a thing. Maybe we'll get you a spot if they ever make a sequel."
Anthony snorted and smiled. "Xander from Buffy's in it. You might be interested."
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Casey The Undead*
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This time, Megan really did spill her Diet Coke.
Her arms flailed epically, and Megan winced as her wrist hit the plastic cup, which flipped right off the table and onto the ground with a clank. However, her inner fangirl was preventing her from caring too much about it. (That and, hey, refills!)
"Nicholas Brendon's in it?" Megan practically howled, her voice a few decibels above normal. "Oh my god. Anthony. Anthony. Do you know what this means? Do you know how absolutely fucking amazing this movie must be? It has Nicholas Motherfucking Brendon in it!" She clutched her chest dramatically. "My heart yearns for this movie! I was made to see this movie!"
Megan's smile nearly split her face, and she could feel the hysterically happy laughter bubbling in her chest. "Okay, that's it, party in my eye socket and everyone's invited!"
The noise that escaped from Megan's throat just then was not a squeal, and anyone who said it was would get french fries lobbed at them until they died a slow and painful death from drowning in french fries. Fried force trauma. Whatever.
Megan, as it was, could not give a single fuck about how much fangirl she was spewing over the table. "This movie could literally not be more perfect if it was dipped in chocolate and delivered to my door step by Tim Roth. God damn it."
Megan waited for a moment, letting the happiness sink in, before her totally logical brain completely wrecked it all. "Oh, fuck. You know what this means, don't you Anthony?" She could practically feel her face falling. "This movie's gonna fucking blow. It's going to be the worst piece of shit I will have ever seen in my entire life, and I am going to die of horrendous, horrendous heartbreak because of all the wasted potential."
She set her elbows on the table, slumping into her hands. "How, Anthony? How could you do this to me? How could you build up my expectations so high and then shatter them with the truth that the plot is probably flimsy at best and Nicholas Brendon really isn't all that strong of an actor? How could you do this to me?" Megan made a show of flailing her arms, again, and flopping her head spectacularly onto the table.
She waited a beat before sitting back up, face totally neutral. "So, your place, then? When you wanna do this?"
When she glanced to the side, she noticed that her Diet Coke had already been replaced. Megan smiled. She loved the wait staff here.
Though, to be fair, they probably hated her.
Her arms flailed epically, and Megan winced as her wrist hit the plastic cup, which flipped right off the table and onto the ground with a clank. However, her inner fangirl was preventing her from caring too much about it. (That and, hey, refills!)
"Nicholas Brendon's in it?" Megan practically howled, her voice a few decibels above normal. "Oh my god. Anthony. Anthony. Do you know what this means? Do you know how absolutely fucking amazing this movie must be? It has Nicholas Motherfucking Brendon in it!" She clutched her chest dramatically. "My heart yearns for this movie! I was made to see this movie!"
Megan's smile nearly split her face, and she could feel the hysterically happy laughter bubbling in her chest. "Okay, that's it, party in my eye socket and everyone's invited!"
The noise that escaped from Megan's throat just then was not a squeal, and anyone who said it was would get french fries lobbed at them until they died a slow and painful death from drowning in french fries. Fried force trauma. Whatever.
Megan, as it was, could not give a single fuck about how much fangirl she was spewing over the table. "This movie could literally not be more perfect if it was dipped in chocolate and delivered to my door step by Tim Roth. God damn it."
Megan waited for a moment, letting the happiness sink in, before her totally logical brain completely wrecked it all. "Oh, fuck. You know what this means, don't you Anthony?" She could practically feel her face falling. "This movie's gonna fucking blow. It's going to be the worst piece of shit I will have ever seen in my entire life, and I am going to die of horrendous, horrendous heartbreak because of all the wasted potential."
She set her elbows on the table, slumping into her hands. "How, Anthony? How could you do this to me? How could you build up my expectations so high and then shatter them with the truth that the plot is probably flimsy at best and Nicholas Brendon really isn't all that strong of an actor? How could you do this to me?" Megan made a show of flailing her arms, again, and flopping her head spectacularly onto the table.
She waited a beat before sitting back up, face totally neutral. "So, your place, then? When you wanna do this?"
When she glanced to the side, she noticed that her Diet Coke had already been replaced. Megan smiled. She loved the wait staff here.
Though, to be fair, they probably hated her.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Anthony kept a bemused look in his eye the whole time Megan had her rant/blabbering/whatever-the-fuck-it was, and then promptly spilled her Diet Coke. He knew the Xander thing would be a bombshell, so he let it continue.
He gave the waitress a nod as she replaced the cup. This happened often. Megan spilled as much pop as she drank when she was excited. Was a wonder they didn't get kicked out.
"Let's try the weekend, Ms. Stone. Get all fancy and we'll see about that basement."
Anthony waved the waitress back down with one finger. "Can I get the check?"
((Anthony Rollins continued elsewhere.
Megan Jacobson continued in Coke Addicts))
He gave the waitress a nod as she replaced the cup. This happened often. Megan spilled as much pop as she drank when she was excited. Was a wonder they didn't get kicked out.
"Let's try the weekend, Ms. Stone. Get all fancy and we'll see about that basement."
Anthony waved the waitress back down with one finger. "Can I get the check?"
((Anthony Rollins continued elsewhere.
Megan Jacobson continued in Coke Addicts))