InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Barry Schmalenpine."

effinredcross (effinredcross) wrote in snyderville,
@ 2009-11-08 23:21:00

Entry tags:

jeeves, sebastian winchcombe, simon watts

Who: Simon and Seb. No ZombAussies, though.
What: Zombies and pudding and armoured cars, oh my!
Where: Ask Simon. He probably knows.
When: Day Ten, November 9
Rating: Probably PG-13.
Status: Complete

Yes, Sebastian wasn't privy to the fine inner workings of apocalypse survival. Yes, he hadn't read the bloody manual. But Seb did know that the purpose of a rendezvous point was for stranded individuals to know, even when thrown far off course, that help was simply around a few hundred corners, across a state or two, over a river, through woods, what the fuck ever.

Their rendezvous point was not where it was supposed to be. Sebastian was not amused by this. Not at all. He was paranoid Al Pacino was going to try and reclaim Simon's beloved mafiamobile, he was grumpy, and he hadn't had tea in years. Even if they could find a teapot, American blends were not acceptable.

Plus he was starting to think Simon didn't know where they were going.

All in all, Sebastian was gloomier than usual, which simply meant whenever Simon dozed off in the passenger seat, he'd reach over, jab his mate's ribs viciously, and dramatically ask WHAT WAS THAT?! His terror was convincing enough to avoid repercussions. It made him feel better.

Inexplicably, they found the armoured vehicle that was apparently their assigned getaway car. Simon identified it, probably using some strange computer device implanted in his Kiwi brain to give him instant access to all the manual's invaluable tips and tricks. Sebastian shrugged and pulled over rather than demanding explanation.

"Why the fuck is it all the fucking way over here?" he asked, grumbling at the big, impressive car as though it would respond. Seb grabbed his beast of a baseball bat and climbed out of the mafiamobile, fully aware that it was his turn to investigate. Finding a zombie in the trunk hadn't been fun, but Sebastian had located three heavy bats total in the terrifying vehicle. He doubted the supply had anything to do with American's pastime.

Bat raised, he approached the driver's door, his face twisting with confusion when he saw a thrashing zombie in fatigues fastened firmly with its seatbelt. His rain cloud parted, letting out a sunshine burst of snickers. Stupid fucking zombies, he thought, pulling open the door and unleashing hell on the nasty, trapped monster.

Once his gory task was completed, he abandoned the bat and wandered back to Simon, grinning cheerfully like the budding lunatic that he was. "S'your turn to clean the mess, mate. We're taking that car."

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niftyfifties
2009-11-09 05:48 am UTC (link)

So it had taken them a lot longer than a few hours to find their rendezvous point. A lot, lot longer. No worries, Simon had thought at first, mistakes were bound to happen, right? At least, he'd thought he'd read something like that in the manual at some point. Hmm. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to commit it to memory rather than bringing his copy along, as he was beginning to get a lot of his facts crossed. Just yesterday, he'd suggested to Sebastian that shooting cans open was a perfectly acceptable way to get at their insides. Needless to say, the constant sleep deprivation was definitely not helping matters. If Seb had thought his mate was pale and twitchy before, having been snapped back into a terrified state every time his eyes drifted shut had had a very obvious effect on his mental state. It would have been hard to tell Simon apart from a zombie if it hadn't been for his lack of desire to eat anything, let alone brains. His eyes were already blank and perma-widened, so that he scarcely even blinked when Sebastian beat the shit out of whatever creature was still trapped inside.

A halfhearted "Aw, fuck." was all he could manage when Seb turned the cleaning duties over to him this time. He looked pitiably at his friend as if to say 'is that really necessary?' before deciding that he'd been defeated and heading over to clean out the dead people gunk anyways.

He let out an even louder, more anguished "AW, FUCK!!!" when he finally caught a good glimpse of the mess Seb had left inside. It took him a good twenty minutes to get most of the pieces of the armoured vehicle's former driver out of its seat, and even then, a fine layer of bloodstain clung to every available surface. Poking his head inside the vehicle, Simon thought he probably had a pretty good idea of what being a tampon felt like.

When he had cleaned the mess up as best he could, he pulled what remained of their supplies from the mafiamobile and shoved them into the backseat of the rendezvous car. Simon then used a couple of tarps that Al Pacino probably kept for disposing of people who messed with his car to cover the blood-soaked seats. He bid their old car a fond farewell by patting it on the hood before crawling into the passenger's seat of their new ride.

Simon buried his head in his hands and sighed. "Can we t-t-try not to destroy everything next fucking time?" he asked, as he pulled out a tissue to remove a severed finger off the dashboard, then tossed it out the window.

Simon shuddered, then rolled the window back up again. "I could use a g-g-goddamned tea right now, for fuck's sake." he grumbled, then opened the glove box to check if anyone had happened to leave an intact pack of cigarettes for him to filch. No such luck.

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effinredcross
2009-11-09 06:17 am UTC (link)

The severed finger wasn't his fault. For the finger, Seb did not feel bad, but when he realized how long the cleaning process was taking his mate, he almost began to regret his brain-pulverizing enthusiasm. He'd approached the line of being thorough and beaten it into an additional three miles of bloody pulp. Perhaps today was the day Sebastian realized there was such a thing as overkill.

He made a mental note to go easy the next time it was his turn. For Simon's sake. Despite his torment of the man and their mutual, unstoppable bickering, Seb quite liked Simon and wanted him to be his usual pale, twitchy self. None of this fearful, wide-eyed rubbish. Just pale and twitchy, nothing more!

The tarps were rather brilliant, if Seb could comment. Even though they were likely sitting on the blood of many mafia victims, it was much better than zombie juice. Sebastian showed his appreciation by grinning at Simon before he buckled up. The keys, he found, were in the ignition like good little keys, and the vehicle sprang to life without any issue.

"Don't look so glum. This car's reinforced and it's armoured. And it has a fucking plough at the front. We're safe as can be in here," he told Simon, a ray of sunshine now that he had a new toy to play with. Just as Simon had embraced the mafiamobile and all its firearms, Sebastian was excited to run zombies down as though they were as troublesome as snow piles.

"I'll find you tea at the next shop we pass, yeah? Why not catch a nap while we drive?"

	niftyfifties 2009-11-23 06:16 am UTC (link)
	Simon wrinkled his nose at him. "I already looked for the f-fucking biscuits!" he said, clearly unamused by Sebastian's playdeath. Simon added to Jeeve's head whacking by giving Seb a hard kick in the buttocks as he walked by. "Wanker! I'll get some, but I'm not bringing you any!" he declared, as he went off in search of instant mushy food products. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)