( i n b o x )

[cawmemaybe]

its house number 1462 you big dumpass

Comments

[cawmemaybe]

time to knock yourself out bro
get high on some zzzs and lullabies
no dicks allowed btw
its way past your curfew man

[ironies]

dbro did you know if your type z a whole fucking lot ot looks almost like hounsdtooth.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

[cawmemaybe]

oh man lets get some fabric scissors and cut that shit up
gonna make myself a hooded shawl so i can wrap you up in it
and take you some place you arent going to hurt yourself

[ironies]

IM SO HIPSTER doddodelelododoo
gay hpster roostesr noises

[cawmemaybe]

caw cawkadoodle cawk

[ironies]

[and then bro stopped responding]

[cawmemaybe]

[ davesprite is 100% certain bro fell down a set of stairs (maybe he shoulda warned him oops), SO IT IS TIME FOR A HUNT.

maybe he's still on school grounds. ]

[ironies]

[no he's at his house rolling around on the floor]

[cawmemaybe]

[ too late, dspry checked the school anyway. no signs of bro anywhere.

next stop: his house. time to be a ninja and enter in an unconventional way. by trying to sneak through the window. ]

[ironies]

[Bro's in the living room. There's smuppets - not en masse or anything - but they're scattered around, some on the floor, the couch, counters, the mantle...

He's got some game show on TV but is clearly not watching it, just kind of lying there staring at his phone.]

[cawmemaybe]

[ The first thing he notices are the smuppets. Oh god. He wants to feel bad for the poor fuckers who have to live with those, but at the same time, he kind of expected this. Not that he's here to admire Bro's handiwork.

He's here to find his brother's whereabouts. Let's see—

Nevermind.

Davesprite sees him.

After fucking around with the window (and subsequently figuring out that he can't open it from the outside), he resorts to rapping on it like a guy who got locked out of his own home.

He also sends him a text. ]

orange crush delivery for the man of the house
let me in yo

[ironies]

[Bro's just, you know. Playing Fruit Ninja or something stupid on his phone, when he gets an incoming text.

Orange.

He glances toward the window like he just knows Dave's there before he even hears the knock, then rolls back to his feet. Stumbling a bit as he makes his way toward the door and opening it while nearly falling out.]

Yooooooo. The party don't even stop.

[cawmemaybe]

[ As soon as Bro starts wobbling his way to the door, Dave shuffles over to the front porch. Just in time to prepare himself to catch Bro if he needed to—but somehow the man manages to stable himself in the end.

Wow. ]

The party's well over, man. Time for beddy-bye-bye.

[ Aka time for Dave to maneuver Bro back into the living room. If the towering man would even let the boy push him around. ]

[ironies]

[Bro sort of cartoonishly spins around when Dave pushes at him, all grins as he steps back into the house.]

Haha, bullshit, kid. I'm still drizzunk. Out the hizzunk. My jizzunk. Be in my bizzunk. Bizzoyyyyy. Dude I saw someone dressed as Flavor Flav.

[He flops onto the couch.]

[cawmemaybe]

You're hallucinating. Flavor Flav's long dead, and you know it.

[ Bullshiting like a pro. The smell of alcohol is in the air, and he doesn't like it. Gross. At least with Bro on the couch, he can just as easily flop beside him.

He holds up two fingers up front. ]

How many fingers? You don't get a lifeline on this one. One guess.

[ironies]

Sixty-nine.

[He didn't even look, one hand going to his face, sort of rubbing over it like he's tired.]

[cawmemaybe]

Time to catch some z's. Gonna hand over the net in a sec. Come on.

[ Can he tug at his sleeve like he used to when he was little. Nah. He'll just sit here, waiting for Bro to make the move. ]

[ironies]

[That move doesn't take long; Bro shoves at Dave half-heartedly, slumping over a bit on the couch.]

Fuck the police.

[cawmemaybe]

The police already came and went. Nobody got fucked 'cause your dick shriveled up into a prune given the amount of booze you downed in one go.

[ And just to be an ass, he slumps against Bro afterwards. More weight piled on top of deadweight. ]

[ironies]

You for real? I'm always ready to go, yo.

[Bro pushes harder at Dave, then, in an astonishing lack of bodily control, he sort of collapses onto the carpet below like some kind of anime ninja slug.]

[cawmemaybe]

Yeah, always ready to go my ass.

[ Dave just looks at him. A second passes by. And then another, and another. Until he gets sick of it and just slumps onto Bro's prone form like a secondary ninja slug. ]

You smell like the shitty alcohol you drank. Gross.

[ironies]

[Bro lies there with his arms out like he got knocked the fuck out.]

Yooooou's a hater, yo, 'cause I was basically drinkin' the finest Courvoisier.

[He forces a burp up at Dave. More like spiked punch.]

[cawmemaybe]

[ If Dave still had his wings, he would have smacked Bro with them for that. Goddammit, that was just gross. He had to turn his head away, but he wasn't sliding off Bro's body.

His fat ass is there to stay. ]

Yeah, right. That poor excuse for a dance didn't have enough money to fund your classy choices. Bet'cha all you had was some cheap beer.

[ironies]

[Burps again.

Harder.

Louder.

Best bro.]

Either way, you weren't there, sucka.

[cawmemaybe]

[ He sure wished he drank a whole case of apple juice before coming here. At least then he'd have a chance in this burp-o-rama madness.

But alas.

Instead, he settles for rolling on Bro, with his back awkwardly resting on that man-bosom. ]

So what. Shitty beer is still shitty beer.