anguishes: (186)
ashley m. john. ([personal profile] anguishes) wrote 2016-04-21 05:13 pm (UTC)

They get confused, and then everyone freaks out.

[ There's a toothpick sticking out from between Ash's lips, the visible end already frayed from being gnawed on. On the doctor's little table, where stacks of paperwork are piled high, are two little bottles; one for aspirin, one for toothpicks. Ash's loopy scrawl is visible on the toothpick one, the A of his name stretching wide across the greying plastic surface.

Little bits of home, for a homeless man. Ash puts away the cleaning rag, a fading teal color, on a metal rack lingering awkwardly in the hall, and takes out a brand new, orange microfiber, all-cleaning branded... piece of shit, far as he's concerned. It's a rag. It cost the morgue four dollars more than the older, cheaper ones.
]

That's how you get monsters on the news. Everyone's just woken up, and then someone brings a gun out. Pffff, [ he makes finger-guns, while approximating the sound and gesture of a flamethrower being switched on. ]

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