Shaun Mason | Adaptive Immunities (adaptvimmnities) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-09-04 21:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, !open, ~~!35 points, ~~annabelle (neverhurthim), ~~shaun mason (adaptvimmnities) |
Who: Shaun Mason & Open
What: Poking cows with sticks.
Where: Outside.
When: During the day, 9/4
Warnings | Status: Zombie talk | in progress
Shaun stared at the cow with a mixture of apprehension and morbid curiosity. Both of those things were relevant to the moment because every cow he'd ever seen in the last 20 years or so of his life had been rampaging and desperate to eat and infect everything in their paths. And had been mercifully put down with a bullet to their unfailingly thick heads. It sort of put a perverse perspective on the California Happy Cow commercials he stumbled across on YouTube the other day. Happy Cows, yeah, his ass.
They stood there placidly, chewing away at the cud or whatever they ate, occasionally flicking away irritating flies. They didn't seem to notice Shaun's presence and for the most part, he was almost glad. He'd lost the thrill that came with poking zombies with sticks since George died, and though she was always with him it.. wasn't the same. Not even now that he had her back.
Cows, they looked oblivious to everything that wasn't food.
You wear that same expression sometimes, George said. Shaun snorted but ignored her, and moved closer. The nearest cow shifted its ponderous weight and flicked its ear, turning the unintelligent eyes toward Shaun, who paused midstep.
Careful
"I'm not an only child," he muttered, cutting her off before she could finish. George went quiet, and Shaun grimaced. It was difficult to maintain the balance between George-in-his-head and for-real-George, even worse when the three of them were together. But there was no hoping he could spontaneously fix the damage to his psyche when George came back. Apparently people didn't go from crazy to perfectly sane in three seconds. So now he had two of them. A smile cracked his features.
He was definitely insane.
"Here, cow, cow, cow," he said, offering a leaf he'd carried over from a dying tree. To his left a cow mooed and Shaun twitched in that direction, half turning to keep the other bovine in his sights. He felt naked without his gun and in the moment very stupidly vulnerable. And only half suicidal, which was an improvement if he thought about it.
Good job, muttered George.
"Shut up," Shaun said. "It's your fault." She didn't say anything and Shaun pretended not to feel like the biggest dick alive for saying that. The moment passed and he felt the knee-jerk reaction to her silence no matter how much he tried to ignore it, and failed.
"I'm sorry."