boss_fisher (boss_fisher) wrote in thefield, @ 2009-03-21 11:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | angelica, arlo, z - 1st tribe - day 12 |
The Clash of the Titans
Who: Arlo and Angelica. Helmets, everyone.
What: Grouchiness, probably.
Where: In a clearing where Arlo is making sharp n' pointies.
When: Morning of day 12
Ratings: DO YOU FIND JERKS OFFENSIVE? IF YES DO NOT READ THIS. Also: swearing.
Everyone was a dick. They were either stroppy, bratty little fucks who didn't know their place or happy-clappy hippy dumbasses who wanted to hunker down and commune with nature. Batshit purple nature, no less. You could fine tune, but everyone ended up in one of those camps eventually. Or both. Apart from Arlo.
Arlo was just bored and sick of this fuckery. He wanted to go home. He wanted to make sure his little girl was okay, drink a big fuckin' mug of coffee and clean his car. That was it. Oh, maybe shave. He never liked ZZ Top. They looked like retards. It was The Boss or it was nothin'
He was taking his frustrations out on a big pile of wood he'd collected. With his dead man's flick-knife he was whittling away (incredibly violently) at each stick until it had a point that a prisoner looking for a shiv'd be proud of. They could be used as arrows, or kebab skewers, or what the fuck ever these people wanted to do with them. Probably give each other fuckin' manicures or something. He didn't know - but he had to keep busy. he hated feeling useless. Hell, even a blind guy was proving himself to be more useful than Arlo. Fuck him, fucking pretty boy.
"Morons. Everyone's a motherfucking MORON."
He muttered to himself, his brows knotted in intense concentration and grumpiness, not paying attention to if anyone was coming towards him or not. Fuck 'em if they were. He was in even less of a mood for niceties than usual. His urge to just get up and leave camp and look for a way home got stronger every fucking day. He was this god-damn close.