“Rise and shine, Alfredo! Check out our new addition!”
Ugh, noise. Alfred groaned and rolled over in his bed, only to be stuck in the back by something sharp. “What the fuck, Gil?!” He looked up at his roommate blearily, but all he could make out of the cackling albino without his glasses was that he was wearing the same thing he always did (skinny jeans, tall combat boots, an “artfully large” tee from Francis that showed off half his chest and collarbones - all in black), had one booted foot up on his bed, and had something massive and pointy shoved right toward him.
He sat up and groped around for his glasses - and, Jesus, his head hurt. “Drank too much,” he croaked out.
“I’ll say dude - I got to the bar and you were passed out in the front!”
Huh, wonder how that happened. Last thing Alfred remembered was seeing that total babe. “Thanks for getting me - “
Gilbert tossed his glasses at him and cut in with “Hey, you owe me! Free booze! Or weed! Maybe both man. Or my rent next month.”
“Darn freeloader,” Alfred grumbled, and then “holy crap is that a deer?!”
Gilbert started up his crazy laugh and hiked up the mounted deer head underneath his arm. “Sweet right? Found it at the Salvation Army this morning, gonna put this in the common area!”
“Er, okay,” Alfred drawled out. How could his friend be so cheerful in the morning anyway? He had a hangover from hell.
Gilbert scoffed. “There is nothing that is not awesome about this deer. You’re just a fuckin’ prissy-ass moron obsessed with proper ~design~ and ~use of space~, Alfredo.” He swung the deer head around to look it in the eye as he addressed it with the utmost seriousness. “They brainwash the little design fags until they can’t see truly inspiring design right in front of their noses, eh, deer?”
By now Alfred had burrowed back into the covers. “We need a better name for it. ‘nd I’m in architecture.”
“Psh, only technically. You design bus stops and shit. Coffee’s brewing, babe, get your ass up. Gonna go show Nils the new housemate - he’ll like it more than you anyway, he’s into mythology and goddamn harsh noise and blood and awesomeness. He’ll dig it.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t rad! I’ve just got the worst headache of my life! And you gotta let me help you name it!”
“Yeah, fine, don’t get your fancy AA panties twisted. And come to breakfast, it’s already noon, lazy ass.”
---
Alfred made his way into the common area (still in his AA briefs, just as a nice “screw you” to Gil) with minimal incident, considering that the world spun with every step he took. Gilbert was perched on the broken-down sofa, juggling coffee, his cigarette, and the deer under his arm; Nils had temporarily abandoned his breakfast on the coffee table to put on a record -probably some kind of noise-drone thing.
“Nils,” Alfred whined, “don’t make it something harsh. Hangover.”
Nils glanced over at Alfred before a quiet inquiry of “Stars of the Lid?”
“No,” Gilbert cut in, “nothing happens, boringest shit ever.”
Nils made a noise of disapproval. Alfred suggested Can’s Future Days. “B-side?” Nils asked.
“Is that Bel Air?” A nod. “Fuck yeah! Ow, dude, my head.” Nils laughed at Alfred’s stupidity under his breath.
“Ya know, I don’t get it,” Gilbert started. Alfred groaned - not this again. “Nils, you like kickass noise and punk, blah, blah, blah, but then you listen to cutesy ambient crap.”
“What happened to your face, Alfred?” Nils asked instead, completely ignoring Gilbert.
“Yeah Al!” Apparently Gilbert’s curiosity was enough to ignore the brush-off. “You look like you got decked or something!”
Re: LATFF [1b/?]
“Rise and shine, Alfredo! Check out our new addition!”
Ugh, noise. Alfred groaned and rolled over in his bed, only to be stuck in the back by something sharp. “What the fuck, Gil?!” He looked up at his roommate blearily, but all he could make out of the cackling albino without his glasses was that he was wearing the same thing he always did (skinny jeans, tall combat boots, an “artfully large” tee from Francis that showed off half his chest and collarbones - all in black), had one booted foot up on his bed, and had something massive and pointy shoved right toward him.
He sat up and groped around for his glasses - and, Jesus, his head hurt. “Drank too much,” he croaked out.
“I’ll say dude - I got to the bar and you were passed out in the front!”
Huh, wonder how that happened. Last thing Alfred remembered was seeing that total babe. “Thanks for getting me - “
Gilbert tossed his glasses at him and cut in with “Hey, you owe me! Free booze! Or weed! Maybe both man. Or my rent next month.”
“Darn freeloader,” Alfred grumbled, and then “holy crap is that a deer?!”
Gilbert started up his crazy laugh and hiked up the mounted deer head underneath his arm. “Sweet right? Found it at the Salvation Army this morning, gonna put this in the common area!”
“Er, okay,” Alfred drawled out. How could his friend be so cheerful in the morning anyway? He had a hangover from hell.
Gilbert scoffed. “There is nothing that is not awesome about this deer. You’re just a fuckin’ prissy-ass moron obsessed with proper ~design~ and ~use of space~, Alfredo.” He swung the deer head around to look it in the eye as he addressed it with the utmost seriousness. “They brainwash the little design fags until they can’t see truly inspiring design right in front of their noses, eh, deer?”
By now Alfred had burrowed back into the covers. “We need a better name for it. ‘nd I’m in architecture.”
“Psh, only technically. You design bus stops and shit. Coffee’s brewing, babe, get your ass up. Gonna go show Nils the new housemate - he’ll like it more than you anyway, he’s into mythology and goddamn harsh noise and blood and awesomeness. He’ll dig it.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t rad! I’ve just got the worst headache of my life! And you gotta let me help you name it!”
“Yeah, fine, don’t get your fancy AA panties twisted. And come to breakfast, it’s already noon, lazy ass.”
---
Alfred made his way into the common area (still in his AA briefs, just as a nice “screw you” to Gil) with minimal incident, considering that the world spun with every step he took. Gilbert was perched on the broken-down sofa, juggling coffee, his cigarette, and the deer under his arm; Nils had temporarily abandoned his breakfast on the coffee table to put on a record -probably some kind of noise-drone thing.
“Nils,” Alfred whined, “don’t make it something harsh. Hangover.”
Nils glanced over at Alfred before a quiet inquiry of “Stars of the Lid?”
“No,” Gilbert cut in, “nothing happens, boringest shit ever.”
Nils made a noise of disapproval. Alfred suggested Can’s Future Days. “B-side?” Nils asked.
“Is that Bel Air?” A nod. “Fuck yeah! Ow, dude, my head.” Nils laughed at Alfred’s stupidity under his breath.
“Ya know, I don’t get it,” Gilbert started. Alfred groaned - not this again. “Nils, you like kickass noise and punk, blah, blah, blah, but then you listen to cutesy ambient crap.”
“What happened to your face, Alfred?” Nils asked instead, completely ignoring Gilbert.
“Yeah Al!” Apparently Gilbert’s curiosity was enough to ignore the brush-off. “You look like you got decked or something!”
---