text

[witchdaggah]

[ so like.

the text keeps appearing and reappearing. like someone's deleting their post? repeatedly. eventually one sticks, though: ]

NO ONE PANIC
The rat infestation is mine


[ that's it. that's the post. ]

Comments

[witchdaggah]

[ this is maybe not someone she should trust with her hair. the kitchen is maybe not the place to do this.

ah well! mae turns and gives him full reign. work your magic, strider. ]

Barber is a profession. Not even a Dungeons and Dragons one. I guess that would be like, I don't know. A wizard? Or a rogue... I don't know! I just know it's a job! Take your glasses off and prove you're a turkey-human hybrid.

[ THAT'S THE ONLY PART SHE'S NOT REALLY SEEING, so. ]

Also, make me the handsomest girl on the block, Mr. Barber.

[oculusriffs]

[Dave barely even knows what a kitchen is normally used for; his back home was always filled with swords and puppets.]

How the hell would taking off my shades prove that? [punctuated by the sound of the razor whirring to life, that sweet and familiar Mr. Barber sound.]

[and there he goes — the kitchen absolutely wasn't the right place for this, there's fur flying pretty much everywhere.]

[witchdaggah]

[ there is FUR in the CHEESE. i repeat: fur in the cheese. it is cheesy fur now, clump fulls of black cat fur in every mouthful now. you could probably package it as artisan cheese, and say that the fur is for a boost of protein. ]

Your eyes are the only part I can't see! They tell your story, you know? Like they say: the eyes are a window into the soul. [ this is bullshit, most likely. ] Mine for example! Look at 'em. All big and creepy like. When you look at them, you're like, "wow, that's creepy." So they're Nightmare Eyes.

[ ......................... ]

Too personal?

[oculusriffs]

[that sure is a tag icon combob x2 you just did there.]

[and Dave is unfazed by the creative license they're taking with the cheese, and with the hella design he's putting on the back of Mae's head. after a few minutes of silent buzzing, which is a turn of phrase that doesn't even make sense, he moves to give her that promised killer mohawk.]

I don't think that's how the barber-barbee relationship works, dude. Like, you sit there and tell me your life story, and I dispense the sick new look and occasional misguided advice.

Also, I think one of the kids has diabetes or something? And also also, I think that makes me Dolly Parton.