jonathan mcnamara can kinda see the future (heimdalr) wrote in monte_logs, @ 2012-04-05 23:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | heimdallr, njörðr, ~complete |
log ; heimdallr & njörðr
Characters: Jonathan McNamara(heimdalr) & Morris Borchard (pesco)
Date/Time: Thursday, April 4th. Around 11PM.
Location: The Empty Orchestra-Ya
Rating: PG for drunkenness.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Jon and Morris get together for drinks and decide to sing a classic seventies song together. What song, you ask? Well, you have to read the log to find out, but rest assure it is AWESOME. And bromantical.
After a week of drinking, Jonathan needed a drink. And who better to drink with than Morris, one of his fellow Asgardians! The fellow was a bit odd, but he liked him none the less. He also liked that the older gentleman was more than willing to go to the local karaoke bar with him. For some reason, people seemed against the idea of getting drunk and singing along with bad songs. But not Morris! Good ole, Morris. Good ole, Njörðr. The two had been at the bar long enough that Jonathan was feeling pretty tipsy, which wasn’t that long considering his empty stomach and shorter stature. He wasn’t exactly a Sasquatch like his friend across the table. But he did have a book full of their karaoke options and that was just as good at the moment. He also had a drink menu that needed to be pondered soon considering his own drink was almost gone. “I never knew there were so many songs to sing.” Look at this place! It was so mysterious and dark, Morris couldn’t help but grin at every person and thing he saw, including the plant in the corner. That was quaint, that plant. And the bartender, she was cute, and kind of mean, but she poured him a draft with little foam, and he was grateful. Super grateful, because foam would always stick on his upper lip. If he had a beard for March Madness, or No Shave No November, or Beardcember, or any of those other months, then he’d come out looking like he had his face in a bucket of cream. Heck, even Jonathon was quaint. Johnny, Jon, O’Johnny Boy. Morris was just happy as a clam on a cupcake and nodded enthusiastically. He’s not much of a crooner, per say, he can hum his sea dandies like any good sailor, but suffice to say he was rather taken aback when the little man suggested---then picked up the book---for karaoke. “Yeah!” He nodded and grinned nervously, willing his damn beer to speed up and make him buzzier. Work, damn you! “I know! It’s great. There’s like, uh, Madonna, and Togo. Everyone likes Togo.” Who the hell was Togo, he rubbed his brain, do kids even listen to Togo anymore? “And Katy Perry.” Togo? Did he mean Toto the band who sang about the rains in Africa? “I thought Togo was a country in... Africa?” Oh! It all made complete sense now. Maybe Toto was from Togo and that was why they sang a delightful ballad about the great continent. It really was amazing how alcohol helped you think clear and deep thoughts like this. “Katy Perry is cute. And has nice boobs.” Plus, she was gracious enough to wear outfits to showcase them. Bless her heart. “Oh, Lady Gaga. I think I need another drink for that.” Grabbing his class, he swiveled his ass in his chair and tried to catch the attention of their server. “Oh, it is. It’s tiny, and under the Saharan desert. They speak French there.” Morris was very sure of his fact and delivered it without pause. “Je ne parle le Francais.” This he stumbled over and on the ‘s’ busted into some kind of laughter that would have made even the most drunkest of drunks confused. It lasted a minute, then Morris straightened up and stood up, waving his arms to get the bartender’s attention. When he caught her eye, he pointed downwards and grinned, then held up his almost empty stein and gave her a thumbs up. As in, ‘feed him and bring me my beer, woman!’ which is so horrifically Norse that he would have been red faced and a little more polite. But the old water god in him is coming out. “I like Katy Perry,” Morris said, sitting back down like a human being, “but I don’t think I could do ‘Teenage Dream’ tonight. I just don’t have my cupcake bra handy.” “I took Spanish in high school.” He wasn’t even sure if his high school offered anything other than Spanish. Growing up in the Outer Banks, there wasn’t exactly a huge year-round population and his tiny high school showed that. Hell, the high school was probably lucky they were able to offer physics. But the moral of the story was, yes, Togo was indeed in Africa, but Toto was not from there. Jon shook his head at the cupcake comment. “No, no. Cupcakes were in California Girls.” After tonight, he wasn’t going to admit he knew the differences between Katy Perry videos. “And the whip cream shooter bra.” To drive his point home about the bra, he did a nice impression of the garment from the video. Don’t mind him, other patrons. Two drunk Norse dudes were just having some fun. “Oh, I took, um. Spanish. But. I watch a lot of Family Guy,” Morris was rather glad there was commotion behind him and he was able to branch off there. No one learned anything but cursing from that show. No, he picked up that phrase somewhere else. Jonathan and his impression made him giggle and he barely noticed the bartender dropping off his beer. “Yeah, I can’t really do that either, like. I can’t wear that blue hair like her or get all the boys to like me...” No, this wasn’t Morris admitting he knew a lot about her, it was an all out admission of exclusive knowledge. Katy Perry was his honey bee. “I don’t want to do any Madonna either. I’m not Vogue,” and on cue, he boxed his face like her famous dance. “What else is in there?” Jon gave a sagely nod. Yes, Family Guy. Is there anything that show couldn’t teach America? Actually, people probably shouldn’t watch that show and get ideas. Peter’s a dumbass, after all. “I should do blue hair. I could do blue hair.” Oh, a drink has magically appeared in front of him. This bar really was a magical place and he made a mental note to come back here often. “And you’re right. Madonna is all wrong.” Grabbing his beer, Jon took a few big gulps as he looked over a few pages. “We need something classic.” “Uhh,” Morris blanked and blinked at Jonathan, trying to imagine the son of nine mother’s with blue hair. Well, possibly one of them would have approved it. Surely one of them was a homosexual woman. Where he is from, and not the sea, Jonathan would fit right in with blue hair. Morris went with this. “Do it!” Classical songs were a whole other suggestion. Rolling Stones? Beatles? WAR? Or even some Whitney Houston sung out horribly? Hell, they could even do Chumbawumba and not a single soul in this bar would know it. “I don’t know, I’m older... I’ll let you pick. You know what kids think to be hip and stuff. I’d probably go with, like, ‘Yellow Submarine’ and that girl in the corner with the green bow would think it was from a cat food commercial or something.” He could totally rock the blue hair. Oh! Or green. Maybe red? If he had the time and the money, perhaps he could go rainbow in honor of his bridge! On second thought, that might attract some different attention. Oh well. “I think I will!” After sobering up, Jon would probably forget about the dying his hair blue idea. Whitney was probably not a good idea given her recent death. People might think they were being insensitive, but in reality they just wanted to share about the greatest love of all. For those not in the know, it’s loving yourself. Heh. “How could she think that?” It’s just wrong. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Jonathan suddenly sounded very excited. At the exclamation of excitement, Morris paused. He did not like the tone of happy in that voice. That level of ‘oh!’ denoted not ‘I have an idea!’ so much as ‘I found it,’ and given that Morris was showing some severe senority in musical taste, and Jon had a flair (maybe, he thought, possibly) for the current pop stuff, this could be bad. Or thrilling. Morris was in for it either way. He put his beer glass down and raised an eyebrow. “Yes...? You’ve... got... it, have you?” How could excitement be bad, Morris? Really. The two of you were here to drink beer and sing. Judging by the excitement in his voice, Jon had indeed found the perfect song for the two grown men to croon. Just go with it. You’re in good hands. Smiling, he picked up his beer and chugged the almost full glass. “Oh,” he answered once he was done. “I did indeed find the perfect song.” Turning the selection book, Jon leaned over and put his finger right next to his perfect selection. “This one.” And all the color drained from Morris’ face, down into his chest, then refilled with a color of red so bright you’d think he was having some kind of coronary issue. His frown was now a grin. Morris knew this song, he loved this song. Why, he shouldn’t have doubted Jonathan ever! “Let’s do this!” Now excited, he stood up quite rapidly, and, in his inebriated state, ended up knocking over his chair. That’s ok. They were going to sing and it was going to be epic. Still, he quickly paused and apologized to the couple behind them while picking his chair back up. Excitement is no cause for rudeness. Did he need some nitroglycerin? One of the old farts in the corner probably had some, but only if Morris hadn’t been taking Viagra. It can cause a deadly drop in blood pressure, after all. Jonathan gave a little first pump in the air that his Norse friend was down for this idea. After all, it was a classic song that was even part of a famous movie. What wasn’t there to like? Nothing, that’s what. “This is going to be the best duet ever!” The small crowd at the bar was clearly about to witness history. Morris? Take viagra? Someone has been huffing paint. He would happily, and sadly, say he has no problem getting up... just, well. In. That’s the bigger problem. “Yes!” Fist pump back. Giving Jonathan a gentle push forward, he would let him lead the way to the stage, and into the first bar of their epic duo. People would be sad to miss this. They were going to rock these bar going patrons tonight if nothing else. Oh my, Morris. Oh my. The two scampered up to the stage just in time for the familiar guitar opening to Afternoon Delight. They laughed. They crooned. Afterwards, the two shared a high five and Jon tripped off the small platform that was the stage. Fear not, it was nothing a few more beers couldn’t fix. |