twincityhacker

It made sense in a kind of Ed-Wood-psycho-backward-universe kind of way.

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It made sense in a kind of Ed-Wood-psycho-backward-universe kind of way. At least, when Mike thought of the situation he had found himself in, which he rarely did.

And what he's been doing has to be right. It had to be.

Mike irritably shifted on the cot and sighed. Pearl's hands cinched tighter around his waist as she muttered sleep-sounds against Mike's shoulder blade.

After all, aren't the two last survivors of the human race suppose to get together?

Mike stilled his body and mind, and stared blankly at the ceiling until the ship-morning came.

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....

AHHHH!

I literally went *hand clamps over mouth* at "Pearl's hands cinched".

Wicked!

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Thanks! I was worried that it was going to be too horrying, 'cause you know that if it was pretty much anyone other than Pearl it would be almost fluffy.

But add Pearl, and well, there was much "WHAT HAVE I DONE?" screaming.

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*exclamation points all over the place*

Oh wow! XD Poor Mike. Poor, poor, poor Mike. I didn't expect that. ^^

Ohh, here: I'm just gonna go run around in a circle whilst screaming hysterically now. Okay?

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I thought it was brillant!

...And then they find a way to return to present time and then there's your OMG what did I do! (Ya know, past tense. Even though Mike, at least, but pearl dont really liek him eather, would have said the same thing, at the present time)

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gypsyjr.livejournal.com

"What do you mean you broke it?"

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"What do you mean you broke it?" Perl's voice built in crescendo. "Can't you even take care of a guinea pig properly?"

"I'm sorry, Mother." Clayton gritted out, "It was an accident."

"Accidents don't happen, Clayton!"

"Of course, Mother."

"Now, what was his name again? Phil?"

"No, his name..."

Pearl interrupted. "Whatever. Just bury him and we'll see to getting another one. This time I'll be overseeing it's feeding!" she snapped and slammed down the phone.

Clay picked up the creature by his tail and dropped him into a cardboard box. "Stupid rat."

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Oh, the "what have I done!" is all in my own mental screaming.

Mike is already doing is the "What have I done!" bit, is doing it right in the middle of the story.

Pearl. Pearl does not regret, it's not her style. She might feel bad about killing her son, but that's it.

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Ah, true, true.

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;.; Poor Clay!

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He was just going to block it out.

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He was just going to block it out. There was nothing else he could do. Following the 'bot conversation as it whirled from point to point helped greatly. But there was only so much even they could do.

In the seemingly endless lull between riffs, he tried concentrating on other things: counting the number of tiny holes in the tiles in the ceiling, planning the meals for the next three weeks, and even trying to watch the film that flickered on the screen before them.

Anything to distract him from the skittering that he could feel happening inside his skull.

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