"I promised my only good eye to Gizmo anyway." Incredibly unlikely scenario!
"Heyyy, I would never. At least not before the fourth sequel." No one else would ever let Sal joke about being a masked killer without slowly backing away. Or calling him a freak and running. Which is why he tends not to make those jokes to just anybody. At any rate, he came here for a reason and he's getting distracted by their usual weird banter. "So can you come down?"
"Well, that's a relief. At least I won't die immediately, I could live with that." A pause. "Pun absolutely intended."
Very early in his friendship with Sal, he learned that their humor is special—or demented, depending on who asked. There's something about gruesome physical deformities that really brings pals together. The question catches him off guard, his eyebrow rising in surprise. Carl ducks his head back into his room, peering down the hallway. The lights are off and he can't see any spilling from the stairwell leading downstairs. If he strains, he can hear his dad snoring at the end of the hall.
He disappears from the window so he can pad over and shut his door as quietly as possible and turn off the radio. He's relieved he doesn't keep all his shoes downstairs and tugs a pair of boots from the closet, tugging them on quickly. Shoving a hoodie on, he swings his leg out the window and steps carefully onto the roof. Looking at his options, he steps over to the edge of the roof and slides onto his stomach so he can lower his legs down and step on the banister surrounding the porch. Once he has purchase, it's easy enough to ease himself down and jump into the grass behind him with an 'oof' as he stumbles.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, he walks quickly across the street with a lopsided grin. "Piece of cake."
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postocular) wrote2017-05-28 09:53 pm
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"Heyyy, I would never. At least not before the fourth sequel." No one else would ever let Sal joke about being a masked killer without slowly backing away. Or calling him a freak and running. Which is why he tends not to make those jokes to just anybody. At any rate, he came here for a reason and he's getting distracted by their usual weird banter. "So can you come down?"
no subject
Very early in his friendship with Sal, he learned that their humor is special—or demented, depending on who asked. There's something about gruesome physical deformities that really brings pals together. The question catches him off guard, his eyebrow rising in surprise. Carl ducks his head back into his room, peering down the hallway. The lights are off and he can't see any spilling from the stairwell leading downstairs. If he strains, he can hear his dad snoring at the end of the hall.
He disappears from the window so he can pad over and shut his door as quietly as possible and turn off the radio. He's relieved he doesn't keep all his shoes downstairs and tugs a pair of boots from the closet, tugging them on quickly. Shoving a hoodie on, he swings his leg out the window and steps carefully onto the roof. Looking at his options, he steps over to the edge of the roof and slides onto his stomach so he can lower his legs down and step on the banister surrounding the porch. Once he has purchase, it's easy enough to ease himself down and jump into the grass behind him with an 'oof' as he stumbles.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, he walks quickly across the street with a lopsided grin. "Piece of cake."