Should I make a post for Mrs. Pickles? I was going to wait until someone else did a post, but I can come up with something if needed.
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- SpookySquid 10 yrs ago
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Fly home buddy. I work alone.
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If 93% of conversation is nonverbal, why don't more people shut up?
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Legend says, if you hold your ear to a conch shell, you'll hear a conch shell.
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So... erm... I made Mrs. Pickles a theme song. I regret every decision I've made in my life that led to me making this. Every. Single. One.
Are we allowed to bump the interest thread to get new faces here?
I'm 99% that's okay. I wouldn't say we're starved for members, but it's been a while since the first OOC, so it may be nice to spread awareness.
Dang, that makes this RP sound like a disease... forget I worded it like that, you get the picture.
@Cherrywitch OK then I'll have Allister meet the two at head quarters
Keep in mind that the church is vaguely aware of Clarence as a result of some things he's done when drunk. Like peeing in gardens and... well... you know how Mrs. Pickles is.
@spookysquid Btw, will post later if not tonight. Hopefully it'll be done today but you know.... life....
No problem.
@Cherrywitch
Hm... Skuchat Solen'ya? That probably meant 'Awesome Hero' in Russian! Clarence liked to think that he was keeping himself contained, but on the outside he was grinning like an idiot. A real hero! Wow, that was... well, it was something... but then dread... he was putting himself in pretty dangerous positions! Heck, he shouldn't currently be alive! He'd just gotten lucky. His face fell.
No, he couldn't be a hero. That was too dangerous... but then, he thought back to his younger brother, trying to get his trading cards signed by all of the heroes. Kids liked heroes. Heroes were responsible! Heroes were good people! Everyone liked heroes! Finally, Clarence could be a hero! Prove everyone wrong!
No, he couldn't be a hero! He didn't have powers! But how else was he going to get his siblings to trust him? No, he needed to prove himself. He had to do this. He had to prove his no good, rotten chump of a younger brother Dave wrong! He'd show him! He'd show them all! He was Mrs. Pi-
*Thump*
"Oh. There's a door there," said Clarence as a few police officers gave him funny looks. He had run straight into glass door on the way out.
Mrs. Pickles realized that the Western European woman was judging him... hard... so he decided that he would engage her in casual, hero-like conversation. Have you ever killed anyone? No, no. What's the HQ like? No...Oh! A joke! Where is the best place to go shopping? The City E Bay! Something tells me she doesn't like jokes... Plus, that one's terrible!
Finally, Clarence decided to bring up the only thing he knew about her, her background. "So, where are you from? I'm from uh... well, I live...d... with my younger siblings. They're pretty great... those younger..."
Dang, Clarence, you're smooth. You pick up ladies like elevators. See! Why can't you just make jokes that clever externally.
Clarence cleared his throat, "Sorry, I was just wondering." He wanted to try and talk to her again, but he sensed she wasn't particularly social and he could understand that. If she wanted to talk, she'd talk. If not, she could just show him the way to the HQ. Or take him there... he kind of needed a ride considering his van had been blown up...
Hm... Skuchat Solen'ya? That probably meant 'Awesome Hero' in Russian! Clarence liked to think that he was keeping himself contained, but on the outside he was grinning like an idiot. A real hero! Wow, that was... well, it was something... but then dread... he was putting himself in pretty dangerous positions! Heck, he shouldn't currently be alive! He'd just gotten lucky. His face fell.
No, he couldn't be a hero. That was too dangerous... but then, he thought back to his younger brother, trying to get his trading cards signed by all of the heroes. Kids liked heroes. Heroes were responsible! Heroes were good people! Everyone liked heroes! Finally, Clarence could be a hero! Prove everyone wrong!
No, he couldn't be a hero! He didn't have powers! But how else was he going to get his siblings to trust him? No, he needed to prove himself. He had to do this. He had to prove his no good, rotten chump of a younger brother Dave wrong! He'd show him! He'd show them all! He was Mrs. Pi-
*Thump*
"Oh. There's a door there," said Clarence as a few police officers gave him funny looks. He had run straight into glass door on the way out.
Mrs. Pickles realized that the Western European woman was judging him... hard... so he decided that he would engage her in casual, hero-like conversation. Have you ever killed anyone? No, no. What's the HQ like? No...Oh! A joke! Where is the best place to go shopping? The City E Bay! Something tells me she doesn't like jokes... Plus, that one's terrible!
Finally, Clarence decided to bring up the only thing he knew about her, her background. "So, where are you from? I'm from uh... well, I live...d... with my younger siblings. They're pretty great... those younger..."
Dang, Clarence, you're smooth. You pick up ladies like elevators. See! Why can't you just make jokes that clever externally.
Clarence cleared his throat, "Sorry, I was just wondering." He wanted to try and talk to her again, but he sensed she wasn't particularly social and he could understand that. If she wanted to talk, she'd talk. If not, she could just show him the way to the HQ. Or take him there... he kind of needed a ride considering his van had been blown up...
@Cherrywitch
"Drunken basketcase? I'll have you know I've been sober for the past..." Clarence glanced at the clock. "Six hours," he followed Violet Reaper out the door and past the police officers, who let the two leave without much of an issue. "Plus, I'm no basketcase. I've been toughened up by my four or five hours in prison," he said, with a hint of sarcasm.
It was obvious that this was a hero. Clarence racked his brain, but couldn't quite come up with the name. However, he did recall they were among the upper A ranks... aha! There it was! Indigo... no, Violet Reaper! Took him a second.
"So, does HQ normally send such highly ranked heroes to kick people out? I mean, that is what's happening, right?" It seemed obvious. Mrs. Pickles hadn't really done anything helpful. Hmm... been in the elevator at the wrong time... been drunk in public... accidentally electrocuted a chimera... beat up a scientist... blown up a house...
What Mrs. Pickles didn't realize is that in the eyes of HQ, he had single handedly defeated a chimera and helped take down a highly dangerous crab monster that was terrorizing an entire city... while drunk. Sure, he had been arrested for letting a chimera loose in an unimportant city, but there was no proof.
However, Mrs. Pickles continued to follow Violet Reaper out of the prison. He felt that he should apologize to her, but he wasn't really sure where to begin, so he just patiently awaited his dismissal.
"Drunken basketcase? I'll have you know I've been sober for the past..." Clarence glanced at the clock. "Six hours," he followed Violet Reaper out the door and past the police officers, who let the two leave without much of an issue. "Plus, I'm no basketcase. I've been toughened up by my four or five hours in prison," he said, with a hint of sarcasm.
It was obvious that this was a hero. Clarence racked his brain, but couldn't quite come up with the name. However, he did recall they were among the upper A ranks... aha! There it was! Indigo... no, Violet Reaper! Took him a second.
"So, does HQ normally send such highly ranked heroes to kick people out? I mean, that is what's happening, right?" It seemed obvious. Mrs. Pickles hadn't really done anything helpful. Hmm... been in the elevator at the wrong time... been drunk in public... accidentally electrocuted a chimera... beat up a scientist... blown up a house...
What Mrs. Pickles didn't realize is that in the eyes of HQ, he had single handedly defeated a chimera and helped take down a highly dangerous crab monster that was terrorizing an entire city... while drunk. Sure, he had been arrested for letting a chimera loose in an unimportant city, but there was no proof.
However, Mrs. Pickles continued to follow Violet Reaper out of the prison. He felt that he should apologize to her, but he wasn't really sure where to begin, so he just patiently awaited his dismissal.
The punch to the solar plexus was too much for the small scientist, and he fell to the ground, gasping for air.
"Well, do you 'forgive me' now?" asked Mrs. Pickles.
"Nuhh... guhh... Huhh..." replied Gumbo. Mrs. Pickles smirked and kicked the man once more for good measure.
Mrs. Pickles returned to the tattered remains of his house
Exhausted, Clarence rummaged through his partially unpacked suitcase. "Well, looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking," he muttered as he produced a bottle of whiskey out from under some of his folded up clothes. Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Pickles was as drunk as a skunk and sprawled out on the sofa.
Suddenly, the door opened. Clarence tensed, expecting to see the mad scientist. What he saw was worse. His landlord.
"Clarence! What- Wha- How?"
"Um... there was a big thing. With wings..."
"I know. I saw it, and some scientist outside. Says you slunk into his lab, made some crazy monster and let it loose. You even assaulted the poor bastard."
"No, I-"
Suddenly, a few police officers walked into the remains of the home. "No, no, this is all one big misunderstanding!" exclaimed Clarence as he struggled to get to his feet. He tripped over the coffee table and right into the arms of the police. "Hey, can't we talk about this?" asked Clarence as he was promptly handcuffed and put into the back of a squad car. "You can't do this! I'm a he-"
Mrs. Pickles was cut off as the door slammed in his face and he was driven to prison.
"Well, do you 'forgive me' now?" asked Mrs. Pickles.
"Nuhh... guhh... Huhh..." replied Gumbo. Mrs. Pickles smirked and kicked the man once more for good measure.
Mrs. Pickles returned to the tattered remains of his house
Exhausted, Clarence rummaged through his partially unpacked suitcase. "Well, looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking," he muttered as he produced a bottle of whiskey out from under some of his folded up clothes. Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Pickles was as drunk as a skunk and sprawled out on the sofa.
Suddenly, the door opened. Clarence tensed, expecting to see the mad scientist. What he saw was worse. His landlord.
"Clarence! What- Wha- How?"
"Um... there was a big thing. With wings..."
"I know. I saw it, and some scientist outside. Says you slunk into his lab, made some crazy monster and let it loose. You even assaulted the poor bastard."
"No, I-"
Suddenly, a few police officers walked into the remains of the home. "No, no, this is all one big misunderstanding!" exclaimed Clarence as he struggled to get to his feet. He tripped over the coffee table and right into the arms of the police. "Hey, can't we talk about this?" asked Clarence as he was promptly handcuffed and put into the back of a squad car. "You can't do this! I'm a he-"
Mrs. Pickles was cut off as the door slammed in his face and he was driven to prison.
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