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 Posted: Wed Jun 02, 2010 11:56 pm
Vale agreed with Writ, though he chastised him in the same breath, knocking back his glass.
"She is beautiful, da. But she is not a lady to be done!"
***
3 drinks...
His bottle was nearly half-way gone, and Vale was on his way towards a buzz with the fruity, hard liquor burning down his throat and leaving him tasting the strange mix of apricot and pure alcohol.
"V'hat do you mean 'Go to Jail?'" he barked, pointing at the silver shoe that was currently parked in a corner of the board. "Is Free Parking! House rules? Three times in a game? This is my house, my rules--"
He grumbled and bitched, but the poor boot still ended up behind bars.
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 12:08 am
"Ha! Don't pass go, don't collect two ********, Kittyboy! That's what you get for taking the stupid boot!"
After rolling doubles twice, Writ rolled again gleefully. The dice clacked on the game board.
Doubles again, and the tiny silver dog found itself in the doghouse.
"FUUUUU-"
***
5 drinks...
Writ appeared from one of the bedrooms in the house, he held a clear plastic bag of toy blocks.
"You have Duplos! I ******** love Duplos!"
The blocks clattered on the ground.
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 12:20 am
"My little sister v'ould slap you if she caught you playing v'ith her toys," he warned Writ, wandering over to look down at the scattered Duplos. "You are lucky she is not here."
Valeriu had long since forsaken the glass in favor of straight-from-the-bottle, tilting it back before peering more critically down at the blocks.
"Bet you I can make a better castle."
***
7 drinks...
The bottles were nearly empty. Clearly, this called for an alcohol run to the little store down the street; the only one in all of Middling that stocked his beloved homebrew.
"Hey," he suggested, breaking the seal on the new bottle as they wandered back to the house. "Remember v'hen v'e v'ere kids, and v'e had those - those giant fort things? V'ith the blankets and the pillows?"
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 12:44 am
Writ stumbled upon his drunken Duplo version of Middling, the smattering of blocks fell and slid all over the place as he Godzilla-d his way through. He let out a drunken roar, his radioactive breath tasted like sweet rubbing alcohol.
On the way to the store, he held on to Vale to keep the room from spinning too fast. He put on the most sober face he could muster in the store.
When they got back...
"Oh my gods, we have to that. We have to do that... After we drink some more." Writ threw back another shot. His ears fidgeted from the headrush.
"But you only got one couch, we require more pillows than that!"
Writ looked out the window and across the street.
"Wait a second..."
***
14 drinks...
"What's the worst that pasty-a** rainbow can do to us? Let's do it!" Writ yelled out, swinging a bottle of Jack in his hands. His words came out like a train wreck, each letter a train car crashing into the one in front of it.
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 12:55 am
Valeriu laughed, rough and hearty and resembling the manic laughter of his father, arm slung around Writ's neck and the bottle in his hand sloshing dangerously as their balance teeter-tottered with every movement.
"Shh! Shush! V'e has to be sneaky," he proclaimed, leaning forward a bit too far before remembering himself and righting before he fell into the ground.
"Here is the plan, da?"
***
14 and a half drinks...
GROAN.
THUD.
SCREEEEEECH.
He heaved, pulling the sofa across the street with all the silence of a parade, after rightfully raiding Quinn's house for supplies. Clasped between his teeth was a bag of marshmallows, Hershey's bars, and graham crackers.
He pushed the sofa up the stairs to his door.
"Don't forget the pillows!" he yelled back to Writ as best as he could, almost tipping over his own railing before he managed to get the stolen couch through his front door.
"Agh, ********! V'e need more blankets!"
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 1:12 am
Writ had fashioned himself a rope made out of (almost) all of the blankets in Quinn's house and tossed it out an open window. It was a great idea- if it weren't for the fact that he was on the first floor. Instead of ninja climbing down Quinn's house, he ended up on his a**. But he picked himself up, and booked it towards Vale's house.
"BEST. IDEA. EVER!!!" Writ yelled, running with his arms full of pillows. The blanket rope dragged behind him. He tossed the mess onto the couch and helped Vale carry the thing up the stairs.
***
?? Drinks...
"Oh, don't worry, I took the batteries out of the smoke detector, we'll be fine." Writ said. The two were roasting marshmallows on a small inferno on the stove.
Writ took his black marshmallow and sandwiched it into a smore, "Nothin' like the great indoors, right Vale?"
The blankets and pillows could wait for a little while, because it was time for a s'more break.
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 1:24 am
"V'ell, as long as the batteries are out," he agreed, focused entirely upon the marshmallow he was carefully charring, crackers and chocolate at the ready to receive it.
"Da. Laying on the floor, watching the sticky glow stars on the ceiling..."
They'd re-decorated the living room in preparation for their fort.
He glanced over at Writ.
"Your sleeve's on fire," he prompted, conversationally.
***
Too many drinks...
Valeriu had finally passed out on Quinn's stolen sofa, bottle clutched haphazardly in one hand and face pressed into the cushion, faint snores escaping as even his tail lay limply to the ground. Piled atop his comatose body was a carefully stacked construction of cushions, shoes, and a traffic cone.
Popcorn and jellybeans lay, scattered, on the battlefield. Doctor Who reruns had turned into Firefly reruns, which had triggered the popcorn war inside the gargantuan and poorly-constructed fort. The kitchen stove-top was charred - the microwave door set above it now melted beyond recognition after they'd tried the bright idea of mixing marshmallows and alcohol over the open fire.
He might have a few things to regret in the morning.
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2010 1:39 am
"Really? s**t." Writ patted out the fire, and took another swig out of his bottle. He looked at the marshmallow he was roasting, then at the bottle, then at the marshmallow again.
Writ's eyes lit up, "I got an id-"
***
These kids are practically sweating alcohol now...
"I AM THE KING OF THE AGGRO-CRAG!" Were Writ's last words before he collapsed into a drunken stupor.
Writ was snoring loudly on top of a mountain of pillows and couch cushions. One of his eyebrows was missing, burned off by the small explosion caused by trying to flambe a marshmallow on a stick.
There were bottles, Duplos, and Monopoly money scattered all over the floor. The last was because Writ had won the Monopoly game, and promptly celebrated by tossing all the paper money in the box in the air.
The taste of Jack Daniel's marshmallows would stay in his mouth for a week.
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