|Percy I. Chapman | Ἑρμης (polytropus) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2017-12-16 10:43:00
|Entry tags:||hermes, loki|
i'm in love with my car
Who: Nish and Percy
What: Lottery post! (Prompt: Some interesting facts I learned at the children's museum, lightning bugs are actually beetles and I hate children.)
Where: Initially at the Frederick R. Weisman Museum of Art museum, and then the parking lot of Pax Letale.
When: September 23rd, near dusk (YES, IT'S SUPER BACKDATED! 8D)
He'd taken advantage of Museum Day Live!, never having been one to pass up a free opportunity. And so Percy had spent his afternoon visiting the Frederick R. Weisman Museum of Art, bothered only by the constant chattering and whooping of three very loud, and very rambunctious triplets. They'd plagued him throughout the exhibits, seemingly intent on trying to ruin his viewing experience. Not intentionally, he supposed, for they couldn't be more than ten years old at most, but even Percy--who liked to think he had the patience of a well-mannered saint--was getting to the end of his tolerance levels towards the latter half of his museum tour.
When he'd seen all the fanciful artworks that he'd wanted, Percy had strolled out of the museum and into the more or less decently lit parking garage. He had listened to the triplets hoot about Power Rangers and Madden for a good half hour at this point, and thus he couldn't be happier to hear little more than the sound of other museum patrons heading home for the day.
His happiness quickly dissipated when he made it to his car, his mouth dropping open in a comical expression of shock. Rather, the look on his face would have been comical had he not been viewing an utter tragedy. His precious, pristine, clean white car was marked in several colors along the driver's side door. It was the work of a scoundrel, a true hoodlum of the hour.
Or, he thought to himself with a disgruntled frown, the work of three mischievous boys with too much time on their hands. This was the thought that accompanied him when he paraded himself back to the museum, only to be told that the sparingly placed security cameras hadn't picked up the criminal(s). Perhaps he would like to be compensated for his loss, perhaps the museum would give him another free ticket for a later visiting date.
Perhaps they could flip themselves off a mountain for all he cared.