InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "hello beautiful"

Bob. (silent_bob) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-04-05 21:33:00

Current location:	The Pharmacy
Current mood:	blah
Current music:	Turning Japanese
Entry tags:	!complete, andy gallagher, day 03, location: pharmacy/liquor store, silent bob

Who: Bob and Andy
Where: The Pharmacy
What: Scoping out for some weed
When: Let's call it 9AM
Rating: PG-13 for language

Status: Complete

The weather had finally fucking broke. There wasn't rain, finally and the world felt like it might actually dry out. However, to Bob, who had spent the night on a fucking rancid ass couch, the sunny morning meant he couldn't sleep too late and that he had little choice about how much longer he could pretend to not be fucking sleeping on a nasty ass couch. Bob's dream of running through a green springtime field chasing after the fucking car in the Hughes film Sixteen Candles, cut off when jolted awake to the sound of a fucking bird squawking it's life away.

Rolling off the couch and into a rather disjointed standing position, Bob rubbed at his eyes. He was still fucking here. It was hard to be happy about being in a place without running water or heat or electricity or drugs. It was even harder to be happy because he knew Jay was fucking floating around here someplace and he had yet to run into him. Taking up his journal Bob took a peek at the latest round of posts, taming his temper a moment as he refused to fucking write anything else to that fucking Ryuzaki guy. What a lame fuck.

Taking up his pen he scrawled into his "Andy - fucking game is on, see you at the pharmacy."

Smoothing out his pants and feeling that his beard was a bit more full than he would like, Bob tried to convince himself that fucking everyone had the same goddamn issues he did. It's not like anyone else had taken a real fucking shower, and they certainly hadn't shaved, either.

Trundling out of his would-be abode, Bob found his way to the pharmacy - the town just as quiet as it had been the day before. He couldn't help but wonder where the Cheryl had slept. It seemed almost strange, but he felt like she could fucking protect him - all hard ass and shit. Letting cracked pavement pass him by he took up a spot near the entry of the pharmacy and waited for Andy to show up. Taking on his customary loitering pose and even striking up a cigarette Bob felt almost at home; well, until his foot slipped on the siding. God he hated fucking siding.

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brain_ninja
2009-04-06 12:07 am UTC (link)

Andy had to double take in his frenzy of exploration when he saw Bob move in his peripheral vision. For a second, Andy looked back at him with confusion etched into his features. Then it dawned on him. "Man, I don't know how much to take," he pointed out. "You said yourself...well kind of...recreational use is out, so I need to send Martha a message on the journal or something," he replied.

Dude, it was fucking weird all these people he didn't even know giving a shit about what was going on with him. That was gonna take a little bit to get used to, he thought. "But all right," he said, taking the pills out of his pocket again and shaking them. "I will." He shoved the bottle unceremoniously back into his pocket then and went back to perusing the alcohol selection.

When he heard Bob approaching again, Andy stopped and looked up, noticing the basket immediate. "Dude, awesome, hang onto that thing; could be useful," he said, gesturing weakly with one hand toward the basket. That was when he noticed the contents. "Should give that stuff to Martha," he suggested. "She's a doctor," he added probably unnecessarily. Andy reached into the basket, however, and took the bottle of alcohol. He gave Bob another nod in thanks.

Sighing, Andy looked around. "Did you see anything, like, that she could use to stitch me up you think?" he asked, furrowing his brow. Maybe if Martha could stitch the wound, it'd heal faster and he wouldn't have to deal with the pain for as long. Sitting still wasn't something Andy liked to do for very long, but if he kept moving around so much, it'd never heal and then he'd be really fucked...

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silent_bob
2009-04-06 12:15 am UTC (link)

Bob considered for a moment that the last time he'd been actually prescribed vicodin it had been when he'd had his wisdom teeth out. They were like fucking horse pills and made him more nauseous than high. Though, he wasn't feeling any fucking pain after taking them.

The quizzical look passed by Bob's features fleetingly at the mention of Martha. He didn't know who the fuck Martha was - though, he didn't have any choice but to trust Andy that she was a fucking Doctor. He wondered why people would take that shit at face value being that nobody knew who anybody else was. It made him think of that pussy Leonardo DiCaprio in Catch me if You Can where the shit pretended to be an airline pilot and nobody fucking questioned it. This chick could just be making shit up. Fuck.

Bob held on to the basket and looked around. Landing a fucking container of dental floss he held it up for Andy's inspection. Had to be better than fucking nothing, right?

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