Nerdchick
All American
37009 Posts
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It was a dark and stormy night. Str8BacardiL was posting quietly on TWW. The monitor cast a ghostly glow on the wall. In another room, the TV blared a rerun of Flip This House. Str8BacardiL shifted uncomfortably in his plastic rolling chair. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong off Kaplan tonight. He noticed an unnatural smell in the air. The duplex creaked under the strain of the wind.  9/25/2008 8:59:44 PM
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Nerdchick
All American
37009 Posts
user info
edit post |
It was a dark and stormy night. Str8BacardiL was posting quietly on TWW. The monitor cast a ghostly pallor on the wall. In another room, the TV blared a rerun of Flip That House. Str8BacardiL shifted uncomfortably in his plastic rolling chair. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong off Kaplan tonight. He noticed an unnatural smell in the air. The duplex creaked under the strain of the wind.
Right now, Str8BacardiL’s thoughts were on his Internet duties. He slid a memory card into a slot on his computer. A window popped up, displaying thumbnail pictures from his camera. The subject of most pictures was his black and brown cat Snuggles. “They are gonna love these,” Str8BacardiL said, selecting four of the best pictures to upload to the Wolf Web. His Wolf Web buddies were dying for updates of Snuggles’ activities. He hadn’t seen Snuggles in a few days, but she was a fiercely independent cat who liked to spend time outdoors. Str8BacardiL busied himself composing comments to go along with each picture. “LOL,” said one post describing a picture of Snuggles apparently turning away from a tuna can, “Snuggles says ‘no way’ to Bumblebee tuna. Starkist only for my girl!”
Str8BacardiL squinted and tried to focus on the glowing lines of text. His eyes complained that they’d had too much screen time today, but it was only nine PM. At least five hours of Internetting remained before Str8BacardiL would give up and slide into bed. There was news to read and there were noobs to pwn, and Str8BacardiL would not rest until he’d had his fill. He settled into his night’s routine and tried to compose a post about the merits of Toyota trucks, but he couldn’t concentrate. It was that smell again. Str8BacardiL was used to the smell of his room, but it was different now. “What the hell is that?” he mused, crinkling his nose in disgust. Maybe it was a lost bite of rotten, abandoned Thickburger decaying inside a balled-up paper bag. Str8BacardiL knew he’d have a hard time locating the offender.
Skyscrapers of trash teetered on the perimeter of Str8BacardiL’s room, testaments to his love of Cookout’s milkshakes and spicy Cajun fries. The apartment wasn’t a hellhole – about half the floor was visible – but his living arrangement was quickly approaching squalor. His roommates had a rule that you had to take out the trash if you couldn’t balance your item on top of the overflowing can in the kitchen, and this rule had the unintended effect of Str8BacardiL merely leaving all his trash in his room. The warty, hunchbacked piles climbed higher every day, and deep inside them old food grew angry with mold. Sometimes Str8BacardiL could hear rustling. He worried about mice.
To be Continued ... 9/25/2008 11:47:18 PM |
