Naomh Pádraig | Saint Patrick (naomh_padraig) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-06-20 17:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | saint george, saint padraig |
Who: Padraig and English!George
What: Someone drank a little too much whiskey and watched too many zombie movies
When: Sunday/VERY early morning
Where: Their respective houses in their respective countries
Perhaps it was a mistake to drink the entire bottle of whiskey Sunny had sent to him, but Padraig hardly ever let himself imbibe. He was making up for a lot of abstinence. In more ways than one.
He didn't even get past the first scene in Black Sheep, having already watched Shaun of the Dead and being disturbed by what most people would consider a mostly lighthearted movie. Padraig fumbled for the remote control, cursing it as he dropped it three times and then quickly turned off the telly. Then he stumbled and ran for the phone to call his brother.
George had to be warned. If people believed in zombies, then they were real. And they might show up in their countries and they had to be ready.
"George pick up it's a 'mergency!" Padraig yelled down the phone as it rang and rang.
George was asleep on his couch, sprawled out and snoring softly. The ringing phone pulled him out of sleep with its horrible, shrill noise. Half-awake, he fumbled around for the phone on the coffee table in front of him before he finally found it.
"Wuzzat?" he said by way of greeting.
"George!" Padraig replied back in his own drunken greeting. "It's your brother. 's Padraig. George. George if people believe in zombies then they're real, George!"
Padraig did not often lose control of his calm and cool exterior. But when he did, he did it with full, dramatic flair.
George stared up at the ceiling, confused and very sleepy and slightly agitated by the alarm in Padraig's voice.
"Yes?" he managed to answer, not sure at all what was going on.
George clearly wasn't as worried about the zombie apocalypse as Padraig was. Which Padraig decided was really very foolish of him. Silly Limey. "I saw them, they swarm like...swarms. And what will you do if they eat your precious Queen's face off, hmm?!" he said, as if he had just made an argument that proved he was being perfectly reasonable. "Zombies, George! Why do you hate freedom?"
"No one is eating the Queen's face!" George said, because even while half-asleep, he was very firm on that matter. He tried to roll over, forgetting he was on the couch, and ended up thumping to the floor.
"Oof," he muttered into his carpeting, the phone still cradled between his ear and his shoulder. "Are there zombies attacking you?"
Padraig heard the thump and he jumped to his feet, almost immediately sliding down to the floor again, though he didn't slump. He pooled.
"Are there zombies attacking you?!" Padraig asked, his voice high-pitched and uncharacteristically squeaky.
"No," George muttered against the floor. "I just fell off the couch."
The impact at least had woken him up slightly, and he rolled onto his back. "Padraig, why are we talking about zombies?"
"Because they're real!" hissed Padraig. "George, I just watched this movie and they're real and we have to be ready for them!"
"I am prepared for them," George said, a little defensive. He spent at least 20% of every day speculating on what he would do if zombies attacked right at that very moment. The Queen had some surprisingly insightful ideas when it came to makeshift barricades and weapons.
He blinked a few times and mentally re-listened to everything Padraig had said to him. "Padraig. Are you possibly a little drunk?"
Was he drunk? Absotively. Was that influencing his fear of zombies? He was sure it wasn't. But then again, he was drunk... "I had whiskey. It was free. George, where would we hide?"
George smiled, careful not to laugh because that would probably upset a drunken Padraig, and leaned his head back onto the couch cushions.
"Well, we have plenty of castles scattered about," George said. "Windsor, for example, would be where we'd put the royal family. Castles are much better at keeping the shambling hordes out than an average building. I think we'd be very well off in a zombie attack, really."
Padraig blinked as he stood there, leaning against the wall. "Do you have a plan? George, I need to see your schm- Your schematics!"
George pressed a fist against his mouth to keep the laugh in. Padraig was very cute when he was drunk, not that George could ever tell him that.
"I'll show you next time you visit," George promised. "They're very detailed, because I come up with new ones when I'm bored."
That sounded like it was a good plan. Padraig could wait to see the plans. "I will come see you soon then, we have to get this planned out. It's important! I am glad you're on top of it. You're very smart, George."