bards quicklog: marvel apartment
[Ezra didn't bring home a cat, but he did bring home a cheap stereo he found at the Salvation Army. It was something from the 90's, a bulky thing of grey and blue plastic that made loud Gundam noises every time it changed CD's. It reminded him of home, of his parents house and the kid with big dreams from Iowa needed that to keep all this weird shit from killing him. Once he woke up, the first thing he did was roll off the couch that smelt like old people farts to turn on some music. The stereo was full of second-hand CDs he got at the cool-dude record store down the street. 2 bucks for an old Offspring CD and some Greendays was a fucking deal if you didn't mind the judgey looks the guy behind the counter gave you.
In seconds, "Basket Case" started playing like a 90's teenage anthem and a couple songs later he walked into Ana's room with a glass of chocolate milk and a box of dry cereal. Ezra was tall and lean. He could stand to gain another 10 pounds of muscle, but he was saving that for when he was in the big times. Indies didn't mind guys his size and honestly he preferred to focus on his acrobatic stuff than simply building mass. His jewfro was in full force, a tangela of black curls and he was wearing gym shorts and his own t-shirt. The shirt had a little bard playing the flute and it was sissy as fuck, which was an easy way to get cheap heat. No guyliner like when he was out working, so he looked like just another aimless millennial.]
I want to get kicked in the balls by Daily Show. [Ezra said and handed her the glass of choco milk before flopping down on the bed, balancing the cereal on his chest.] We're worrying about picking between shitty promotions and Seth is getting kicked in the nuts on national tv. [He was super seriously jealous. He always was of the guys his age that made it big already.]