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

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
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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[info]silent_bob
2009-04-06 06:39 am UTC (link)
To the notion of having a minty fresh mauled leg Bob could only manage a bit of a wince. He supposed that the floss was the best thing he was going to come up with. It's not like they had managed to find themselves in a fucking sewing shop or something. Thinking about it, and all the fucking movies he'd seen with people getting stitches Bob couldn't help but fucking think that it must hurt like a fucking bitch - fresh mint or no.

To the question as to the effectiveness of vicodin Bob did a happy sort of doped up looking eyeroll. People got addicted to that shit, no lie. So, it didn't take much for him to imagine it at least taking the edge off a bit. Bob noted the nervousness in Andy's voice and it was all he could do to try and offer a look of fucking confidence. God he hoped this Martha chick was a fucking doc and not fucking playing at it, he fucking kind of liked Andy.

Bob took up the basket again with glee, feeling sort of fucking weird heading for the door without fucking paying for anything. With a wave he motioned for Andy to follow. He moved fairly slowly, partially because he was a lazy bastard and partially because he'd seen the way Andy had been fucking struggling. Dude looked like he was in a fucking shit load of pain.

Like a bolt Bob stopped - why the fuck didn't he think of this before? Pushing back into the pharmacy he ducked past Andy and looked again back where the fucking bandages had been. There was a fucking air cast and shit there - with one of those fucking pumps. However, more importantly he had seen the motherfucking holy grail. Reemerging from the store victorious Bob sidled up to Andy with a fucking pair of crutches.

Who's the motherfucking shit? Bob.

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