Post by :: Pandie :: on Oct 24, 2009 22:31:31 GMT -5
A short but rather oddly entertaining rp between THEDonnie and myself taken place in 'Vegas' during the Thriller Zombie Ball.
*licks pinky and parts my unibrow with it and nods in your direction before blowing you a kiss*
Now that the disturbing ball of fluff was obviously entertaining other guests, she felt a bit more at ease. At least, as at ease as a strange person in a strange town could be.
Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be making it any further into the room before yet being pounced by another, less fluffy thing. The voice wouldn't have caught her attention, afterall, no one spoke to her quite like that, but it was impossible to mistaken the wiggle of the brows and the blow of a kiss as intended for her, seeing as there wasn't anyone else standing at the bottom of the steps.
With a knowing smirk that tended to give the wrong impression, she pointedly turned her head and started up the stairway, heading for the balcony above the ground floor of the ballroom.
-He would then go to slip an arm around you but you kept walking so he stumbled some and then he would stare at your back...well okay your backSIDE more like it. HE can't help it if he was an ass-man. Geez? Kill a man why don't cha? Besides, who are you to judge him? Huh? WHo knows. Maybe you like midget nazi porn for all he knows. Or maybe the baying of goats gets your rocks off! You sicko! But wiat...back to the whole action and stuff. Guy would watch that ass move off and so he decided to follow it...uhm...her...uhm..WHATEVER! Asses ahoy and he is gonna follow along-
(after quite litterly laughing outta her wobbly computer chair...) She could hear the footfalls not that far behind her, and knew that she wasn't accending the stairs alone. The ladysman, no doubt, was enjoying her pace as much as she was, thus she didn't quicken nor slow her climb. One step a time, and maybe, just maybe, a little extra wiggle so he'd be made aware she knew exactly what he was looking at, and rest assured it wasn't his footing.
When she finally reached the final step of the stairway, she did a quick survey to see if anyone else was within the top floor of the room, before she carefully shifted her short, and wavey (yes yes, wavey is the new skinny) frame between a few tables and chairs, until she reached the edge of the balcony where any whom stood could view the main floor below. Still, she did not glance over her shoulder. Instead, her attention was on the occupants far below.
-Well yes he was following along. You know him, always hungry for a BUTTerfinger. Get it? BUTTerfinger? Cause he is looking at her...well...you know, butt! BAH! The good puns are always wasted around here. He would follow along and whereas you would move in and out between the tables and chairs, Guy actually stumbled over one chair, twisted himself. Started to fall to a table and then he would hit the corner of that with his nether regions (you know, his guy dangly bits and stuff...what ELSE did you think they were? Geez...some people) and he would grab a tablecloth and yanked on it to keep from falling backwards. Instead, all he succeeded in doing was yanking a wineglass towards him. He managed to scoop it up before it fell because of the old instinct of grabbing a drink before it spills and then he would roll backwards some and his ass hit the corner of another table. And when men get poked in the hontas (get it? Another pun. Pocahontas? BAH! Pay attention. This is golden jokes here.) their natural tendency is to shoot forward. Unless they are like that. You know. Fruity. NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING wrong with that but it is not Guy's cup of tea...now snatch! SNATCH is his cup of tea. Oh man, what if you could put it in a cup? OH MAMA! *coughs* but I digest. Anyways, the bending forward would make him stand up straight and when he finally stabilized, he was standing by you at the edge of the balcony and looking all smooth and suave and would hand the glass of wine to you-
-As if he had planned all of this all along. When you have made as many errors as he has, then you learn to play things off. Guy? He was a MASTER of it-
From her position, she could easily see the disgusting ball of fluff below, as well as the strange looking individual whom seemed to be the master of it, if indeed a male could master anything. Another couple could be seen together, and then off to the far side, near the bar, a single striking looking man (hey, with that hair, anything could be hott!) seated by his lonesome looking rather comfortable with his inability to socialize. For a brief moment, she caught him glancing skyward towards her. Brief, only because of the unmistable clutter of a clumsy fool coming from behind her.
She straightened her spine, bracing herself, but no unexpected and unwelcome shove came into contact. Instead, a glass of wine was shoved in her private bubble (personal space, people... Trust me, the reaction would be quite different if ANYTHING tried to shove into THAT bubble!) and the voice of the 'I think I'm gods gift to women" greeted her again.
Respectfully, she enclosed her fingers around the glass, accepting it, but not bothering to raise it to her lips. She didn't glance to him, but rather kept her gaze on the ongoings below, even as she spoke.
-He would just grin and nod quickly-
-He winked to you and then he leaned over the balcony and folded his arms there for a cushion. He would stare down and see the man eyeballing him. Most men did. For some odd reason, Guy got chicks. Walking dead....not UNdead. That is kinda sinsulting. With the slight...uhm...dermatological condition he has...he still got the chicks. Mainly because he had two things going for him: wit and charm (those are kinda rolled into one but tehcnically you could say he had three if you wanted to split those two off but why are we discussing semantics right now? Sorry...got distracted) and he also had the fact that he was himself. No holds barred and no lying. No pretending. He was who he was and for some odd reason woman wanted that more than they wanted someone who could be all suave and sophisticated. That is what Guy was: real. Really ugly. Really blunt. Really corse. But he was real and himself. And if people didn't like it? Well. HE would eat them. He IS a freaking zombie after all-
:She simply gave a dry chuckle at his reponse. She wouldn't deny it, but there was a fine line between teasing and toying. At least, in her mind. Women, we strive for our complications. Afterall, if you can't beat them, confuse them.
Her eye's strayed as another young woman arrived, and for the life of her she couldn't quite figure out how one could walk tall and proud, looking... Well, let us just leave it at that.
Where Guy had ugly, blunt, corse and real, she in turn had average, snide, cunning, and... Well... We can't spoil all the fun by telling it all right off the bat, now can we? Where he got the girls (and I'd be willing to bet my bottom dollar a few guys as well) she didn't. Where he obviously had brass balls, she had, well, those parts women have. The two were completely different, complete opposites, and it was bound to come out eventually.
She could sense his taking notice of the woman below whom had just arrived (Our fair topless Bella) and the corners of her lips twitched.
-He just groaned and shook his head. He would turn it slightly over his shoudlers to look to you but not moving form where he was-
..a damn vampire strolled on in.
-Then he rolled his eyes and squinted them and he hung his head. Which made his hat fall off of his head and float on its own to the floor below. His voice was barely above a whisper-
Now that was one certain way to get a girls attention. Forget sexual conversering, forget charming and flattery and go right for utter disgrace. She chuckled quietly, a true and refreshingly honest laugh, and both eyebrows arched (hey, I haven't practiced in the mirror long enough to manage raising one without the other!).
-He would then stand up and lean his hip against the balcony and just watch you. One hand would come up to run along the outside of your arm-
-He winked and then he would push form it and pointed down-
The grin on her face did nothing for the attempted look of scorn she tossed at him, and the refusal shake of her head. He certainly had a way to make someone smile, but she wasn't that easy.
A simple flick of her wrist, as if she could care less whether he stayed or went, and she turned her eye's back to the floor below, unwillingly gazing upon his hat that somehow looked much better sitting on the floor then atop his own mop of a head.
She spoke not a word. What was there to say? Did he expect her to twirl from her position, hands outstretched to lock magnificantly strong for a woman of her build upon the sleeve of his shirt, and beg him to stay, just a little longer? For her to, perhaps, lean in and whisper sweet lies within his ear that the night would be a complete bore without his charming personality there at her side? Or perhaps, seeing as they were the only two within the balcony at the moment, she should coyly suggest they create a new dance for the matress mambo, excluding the mattress, of course.
No no, most certainly not. Not her. Not him. Not a chance.
Instead, she remained silent, distantly watching the ongoing socialization below her. She wasn't much of the charming dollied girl that men wanted.
|+|fever adled brain|+|
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
Hey there sexy woman..
*licks pinky and parts my unibrow with it and nods in your direction before blowing you a kiss*
~The Immortal Dance~
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
Now that the disturbing ball of fluff was obviously entertaining other guests, she felt a bit more at ease. At least, as at ease as a strange person in a strange town could be.
Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be making it any further into the room before yet being pounced by another, less fluffy thing. The voice wouldn't have caught her attention, afterall, no one spoke to her quite like that, but it was impossible to mistaken the wiggle of the brows and the blow of a kiss as intended for her, seeing as there wasn't anyone else standing at the bottom of the steps.
With a knowing smirk that tended to give the wrong impression, she pointedly turned her head and started up the stairway, heading for the balcony above the ground floor of the ballroom.
|+|fever adled brain|+|
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
-He would then go to slip an arm around you but you kept walking so he stumbled some and then he would stare at your back...well okay your backSIDE more like it. HE can't help it if he was an ass-man. Geez? Kill a man why don't cha? Besides, who are you to judge him? Huh? WHo knows. Maybe you like midget nazi porn for all he knows. Or maybe the baying of goats gets your rocks off! You sicko! But wiat...back to the whole action and stuff. Guy would watch that ass move off and so he decided to follow it...uhm...her...uhm..WHATEVER! Asses ahoy and he is gonna follow along-
~The Immortal Dance~
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
(after quite litterly laughing outta her wobbly computer chair...) She could hear the footfalls not that far behind her, and knew that she wasn't accending the stairs alone. The ladysman, no doubt, was enjoying her pace as much as she was, thus she didn't quicken nor slow her climb. One step a time, and maybe, just maybe, a little extra wiggle so he'd be made aware she knew exactly what he was looking at, and rest assured it wasn't his footing.
When she finally reached the final step of the stairway, she did a quick survey to see if anyone else was within the top floor of the room, before she carefully shifted her short, and wavey (yes yes, wavey is the new skinny) frame between a few tables and chairs, until she reached the edge of the balcony where any whom stood could view the main floor below. Still, she did not glance over her shoulder. Instead, her attention was on the occupants far below.
|+|fever adled brain|+|
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
-Well yes he was following along. You know him, always hungry for a BUTTerfinger. Get it? BUTTerfinger? Cause he is looking at her...well...you know, butt! BAH! The good puns are always wasted around here. He would follow along and whereas you would move in and out between the tables and chairs, Guy actually stumbled over one chair, twisted himself. Started to fall to a table and then he would hit the corner of that with his nether regions (you know, his guy dangly bits and stuff...what ELSE did you think they were? Geez...some people) and he would grab a tablecloth and yanked on it to keep from falling backwards. Instead, all he succeeded in doing was yanking a wineglass towards him. He managed to scoop it up before it fell because of the old instinct of grabbing a drink before it spills and then he would roll backwards some and his ass hit the corner of another table. And when men get poked in the hontas (get it? Another pun. Pocahontas? BAH! Pay attention. This is golden jokes here.) their natural tendency is to shoot forward. Unless they are like that. You know. Fruity. NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING wrong with that but it is not Guy's cup of tea...now snatch! SNATCH is his cup of tea. Oh man, what if you could put it in a cup? OH MAMA! *coughs* but I digest. Anyways, the bending forward would make him stand up straight and when he finally stabilized, he was standing by you at the edge of the balcony and looking all smooth and suave and would hand the glass of wine to you-
"I hope you like it..."
-As if he had planned all of this all along. When you have made as many errors as he has, then you learn to play things off. Guy? He was a MASTER of it-
~The Immortal Dance~
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
From her position, she could easily see the disgusting ball of fluff below, as well as the strange looking individual whom seemed to be the master of it, if indeed a male could master anything. Another couple could be seen together, and then off to the far side, near the bar, a single striking looking man (hey, with that hair, anything could be hott!) seated by his lonesome looking rather comfortable with his inability to socialize. For a brief moment, she caught him glancing skyward towards her. Brief, only because of the unmistable clutter of a clumsy fool coming from behind her.
She straightened her spine, bracing herself, but no unexpected and unwelcome shove came into contact. Instead, a glass of wine was shoved in her private bubble (personal space, people... Trust me, the reaction would be quite different if ANYTHING tried to shove into THAT bubble!) and the voice of the 'I think I'm gods gift to women" greeted her again.
Respectfully, she enclosed her fingers around the glass, accepting it, but not bothering to raise it to her lips. She didn't glance to him, but rather kept her gaze on the ongoings below, even as she spoke.
"Did you enjoy the view?"
[/b][/u][/center]|+|fever adled brain|+|
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
-He would just grin and nod quickly-
"A-yep! And before you try to get all high and mighty about me staring? I saw you wiggling. You were putting on a show and we both know it. So I sincerely hope you try to avoid being all shocked and outraged cause that woud make you pedestrian."
-He winked to you and then he leaned over the balcony and folded his arms there for a cushion. He would stare down and see the man eyeballing him. Most men did. For some odd reason, Guy got chicks. Walking dead....not UNdead. That is kinda sinsulting. With the slight...uhm...dermatological condition he has...he still got the chicks. Mainly because he had two things going for him: wit and charm (those are kinda rolled into one but tehcnically you could say he had three if you wanted to split those two off but why are we discussing semantics right now? Sorry...got distracted) and he also had the fact that he was himself. No holds barred and no lying. No pretending. He was who he was and for some odd reason woman wanted that more than they wanted someone who could be all suave and sophisticated. That is what Guy was: real. Really ugly. Really blunt. Really corse. But he was real and himself. And if people didn't like it? Well. HE would eat them. He IS a freaking zombie after all-
~The Immortal Dance~
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
:She simply gave a dry chuckle at his reponse. She wouldn't deny it, but there was a fine line between teasing and toying. At least, in her mind. Women, we strive for our complications. Afterall, if you can't beat them, confuse them.
Her eye's strayed as another young woman arrived, and for the life of her she couldn't quite figure out how one could walk tall and proud, looking... Well, let us just leave it at that.
Where Guy had ugly, blunt, corse and real, she in turn had average, snide, cunning, and... Well... We can't spoil all the fun by telling it all right off the bat, now can we? Where he got the girls (and I'd be willing to bet my bottom dollar a few guys as well) she didn't. Where he obviously had brass balls, she had, well, those parts women have. The two were completely different, complete opposites, and it was bound to come out eventually.
She could sense his taking notice of the woman below whom had just arrived (Our fair topless Bella) and the corners of her lips twitched.
"Twenty says she will not dance with the likes of you."
[/b][/u][/center]|+|fever adled brain|+|
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
-He just groaned and shook his head. He would turn it slightly over his shoudlers to look to you but not moving form where he was-
"Twenty what? Blowjobs? You got yourself a deal but...
"-Oh hell"
..a damn vampire strolled on in.
She..."
[/u][/center]-Then he rolled his eyes and squinted them and he hung his head. Which made his hat fall off of his head and float on its own to the floor below. His voice was barely above a whisper-
"...I know her..."
~The Immortal Dance~
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
Now that was one certain way to get a girls attention. Forget sexual conversering, forget charming and flattery and go right for utter disgrace. She chuckled quietly, a true and refreshingly honest laugh, and both eyebrows arched (hey, I haven't practiced in the mirror long enough to manage raising one without the other!).
"Oh, she is an aquintince of yours, do you say? Then it shalln't be too difficult to swoon her around in a dance. Afterall, what woman could resist you, no"
[/b][/u][/center]|+|fever adled brain|+|
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
Guy Roberts
Do not fuck with a zombie...
for you are crunchy
and I have a jar of grey poupon in my pocket
-He would then stand up and lean his hip against the balcony and just watch you. One hand would come up to run along the outside of your arm-
"You are trying really hard to. Why? You got a boyfriend? Maybe the little blonde guy who was eyeing me? And yes...I noticed."
-He winked and then he would push form it and pointed down-
"Now, I need to go get my hat. Ciao babe. If I see you around sometime? You and me? We will have a dance. Particually the matress mambo"
~The Immortal Dance~
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
The grin on her face did nothing for the attempted look of scorn she tossed at him, and the refusal shake of her head. He certainly had a way to make someone smile, but she wasn't that easy.
A simple flick of her wrist, as if she could care less whether he stayed or went, and she turned her eye's back to the floor below, unwillingly gazing upon his hat that somehow looked much better sitting on the floor then atop his own mop of a head.
She spoke not a word. What was there to say? Did he expect her to twirl from her position, hands outstretched to lock magnificantly strong for a woman of her build upon the sleeve of his shirt, and beg him to stay, just a little longer? For her to, perhaps, lean in and whisper sweet lies within his ear that the night would be a complete bore without his charming personality there at her side? Or perhaps, seeing as they were the only two within the balcony at the moment, she should coyly suggest they create a new dance for the matress mambo, excluding the mattress, of course.
No no, most certainly not. Not her. Not him. Not a chance.
Instead, she remained silent, distantly watching the ongoing socialization below her. She wasn't much of the charming dollied girl that men wanted.
