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 Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2006 6:26 am
Rockefeller is Mario in his dreams--funny hat, giant mustache, red overalls, the works. On the outside, he twitches and jerks as if in the throes of a nightmare; on the inside, he's hopping on Koopa Troopas and Goombas. It's not a dream he has often, and he's usually a mixture of exhausted and ecstatic the day following it. Tonight there is a new element to the dream, one that doesn't look quite right, although in a world of cheesy, pixellated sprites, "right" is relative.
He's in a boss level, about halfway through the game, dodging rotating firesticks and timing jumps over columns and being generally bored because really, he could play this game in his sleep--as is currently being proven--and just when he wishes for something to break the monotony, something does. At first he thinks it's just the white halo of a fireball, but he starts to wonder after it skirts the edge of his vision again.
"A glitch?" he wonders, "a glitch in my mental game? Is that possible?"
He doesn't see it for awhile and figures it was just a product of his overactive imagination, progressing through the game easily. All thoughts of this snow-white anomaly vanish as he leaps and stomps his way through the level.
He sees it again just as the music signifying his entry into the final chamber hits. It's moving swiftly along the bridge that he stands on the end of, expertly weaving and dodging its way around fireballs thrown by the false Bowser. Rockefeller/Mario takes a few tentative steps onto the rickety bridge, watching the white blur take a flying leap right over the koopa. Time seems to freeze the thing in midair, and he can clearly make out a fluffy tail and...antlers? Before he can think on it further, he pays for his inattention with a fireball to the face.
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Posted: Sun Feb 05, 2006 8:42 pm
Rockefeller awoke just as he "died" in his dream, jerking and staring up at the ceiling with wide, frantic eyes. He was panting--he was sweating profusely, too--and wondering just what the hell had invaded his dreams. A few moments were spent calming himself down before he shook himself free of the now-stifling covers, lanky limbs navigating him away from the bed and into the bathroom.
The light flickered before deciding to stay on as he flicked the switch. He didn't bother pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the light, merely padded over to the sink and turned it on. The pipes rattled before the faucet expelled water. A finger-test proved it cold--perfect. Rockefeller scooped up a double handful of icy water and splashed his face with it, scrubbing the sleep out of his eyes before daring to look at the mirror. His shaggy hair--which was long overdue for a cut--partially obscured his eyes, which seemed a little haunted. Really, Rockefeller was feeling out of sorts after this episode.
He had never died in his favorite dream before. That, along with his dream's befoulment, shook him up.
With a sigh, he strode back into the main room, clad only in socks and smiley-face boxers in spite of the room's chill. Pausing to turn the main light on, he padded over to the desk, where his laptop was plugged in. He opened the cover and booted it up before moving to the small fridge that he had conveniently stocked with sodas earlier that day. He opened it and reached in, attention on the laptop's screen to see how far along it was, and immediately shrieked like a little girl when his hand hit something cold. Rockefeller jumped back, surprised for the second time that night, and stared at the object that had taken up residency between the Pepsi and the cream soda.
It appeared to be a snowball. "What the HELL?!" Rockefeller demanded of no one. Was this some sort of a joke? Did the cleaning staff randomly stuff snowballs in guests' fridges? Why would they DO that? Grumbling, he retrieved the snowball--juggling it from hand to hand because damn, it was cold--and went back to the bathroom, placing it in the sink so it could have somewhere to melt. After drying his hands on a towel, he went back to his computer, where he occupied a few hours with online poker before going back to sleep.
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Posted: Sun Feb 05, 2006 10:06 pm
Noontime, up as the sun hit its peak, and only because he had forgotten to close the curtains.
Plaintive whine as he tried and failed to stay asleep.
Disgruntled grumblings as he reluctantly got out of bed.
Sleepy yawn as he headed towards the bathroom.
An irritated squint at the garish flourescent lighting.
A squeak as he turned the faucet after going to the bathroom.
A stroke between the soggy jackalope's ears.
A plan to stay inside all day with his computer games--he was on vacation, he could do that.
Open the fridge, get a soda.
...wait a minute. Jackalope?
A rush to the bathroom, a flick of the light, and a stare. "What the HELL?!"
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