pinkeffinprofessional | (no subject)

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Mr Pink was thinking about talking on the Network, but decided to write this shit instead. The day's the kind of clear and cold day that makes him think about snow, and while snow isn't too bad unless you live in one of those crappy places like Chicago or Detroit where it turns black just melts all over shit until everything's black and disgusting.

It's actually the reason that he moved to Los Angeles, because if it snows there then either the world is ending or there's going to be some fucked up traffic on the 5 (as if there isn't always fucked up traffic somewhere in Los Angeles). That, and there's good money to be made there.

He thinks about how this is getting off the point and he's okay with that. Instead he goes to call Mr. Orange and Mr. White. Maybe they'll want to go out and get a drink after this shit-ass curse is over.

And his phone battery is dead. What the fuck is up with these phones you have to charge, anyway? Do people really have to get a hold of someone so fucking fast that you have to carry your phone everywhere? Eddie had one and fat lot of good the fucking brick did him. What happened to the days of phones that plug into the fucking wall?

The Government is probably monitoring this shit, he realizes, and forgets the calling crap. They'll see the text on the Network anyway.

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...But everyone has cellphones nowadays and nobody seems to be using landlines anymore.

So... why are you referring to yourself in the third person?

Mr Pink looks at the Network reply and rolls his eyes. Can't people see a curse when they see one? Because no one with half a brain would refer to themselves in the third person without a reason.

"Just because no one uses landlines doesn't mean they're not valuable."

I think you're underestimating people in general. I think some people would just because they can.

Yes and no. Landlines are only as useful as a person is able to get to them.

...This curse though. I think I can literally hear the quotation marks there.

It takes more than a minute for him to find a way to respond to this.

"Because they can doesn't make them smart, you know."

So? Smart is relative though. They could be doing pretty awesome things despite that little tic. One doesn't need to be smart to change the world.

....What's up.

What's up, he asks. After the poltergeisting, can't a man ask someone he considers something of more than an acquaintance out for a drink?

"You wanna get a drink?"

This is too fuckin' weird...sure man.

You're telling me, thinks Pink. He's been a ghost and he's been a woman but he's never had the want to write any of this fucking shit down like he's some kind of tortured feminist writer.

Shit.

"I figure the whole poltergeist shit was kind of a suggestion for me to get out of the house."

[Hahahahahahaha Freddy's laughing and it's a much needed fit of lulz.]

Hey whatever works for you, Pink.

Pink is not offended by the laughing. Frankly, at least someone thinks that this shit is hilarious, even though for the writer it's more a pain in the ass than a laugh riot.

"What have you been up to, anyway? Silence from every side."

[It is a riot.]

Not too much, thinkin' about making up for dinner. You know the one when you were a spook.

Pink remembers - he figured that the other two people from his world were going to tell him something, but then they got waylaid. It wasn't his fault that he was stuck communicating through a television and occasionally possessing people.

"Yeah, I remember."

Anyway. When're you free?

He thinks about it for a minute. The truth is that he's pretty free most of the time, because his work schedule is what people might call 'self-made,' but fuck it, whatever.

"You guys busy tomorrow night?"

[Pink is fortunate Freddy's not commenting on his commentary.]

I don't think so.

"I'll meet you in the square, okay?"

It's not that Pink doesn't want them coming by, but after scaring the shit out of the neighbors he might need to move. One of them keeps looking at him funny every time he walks by, and Pink doesn't like it. That's just asking for trouble.

[Well now he thinks apartment shopping is on the agenda but they'll get to that when they get to that.]

You got it, Pink.

"Thanks."

Pink hesitates - he kind of wants to keep talking, because this shit can get lonely, and Orange is actually kind of his friend, sometimes. More than White, that's for fucking sure.

"By the way, you stock up on Frankenberry?"

[White doesn't hate you, Pink.]

No. I'm a Fruit Brute man.

Whatever, they're all the same until you get to Booberry, which is, of course, the best of the lot.

"Whatever, you stock up?"

Honestly I didn't think about it.

[Too busy being a werewolf.]

"Got busy?"

There's a loaded question. Back home it might mean one thing, good, or bad, depending on if the question was asked by certain unmentionables.

Here, it's more likely bad shit.

[You think too much Pink. Way too much.]

Yeah, full moon you know.

"Full moo-"

There's a break in the words because suddenly Mr. Pink is putting together pieces.

"Holy shit, you went all Teen Wolf?"

No. I went An American Werewolf in London.

[Not really but that's the movie he prefers.]

A measured, thoughtful pause.

"How was it?"

Real interesting.

Somehow Pink decides he doesn't need to know the details of interesting. The mechanics of eating raw rabbit or whatever shit wolves do isn't really something to learn before dinner.

"Probably better than being a fucking ghost."

I ate a cow covered in grilled cheese. It wasn't pretty.

What.

"Is that like a wolf cheeseburger?"

Kinda. I mean you know when it's raw yeah.

[IT TASTED GOOD.]

"If it's raw, how is the cheese grilled?"

Or was it covered in grilled cheese sandwiches? This makes no sense.

It's a long story, I can tell you over a drink.

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