IC Inbox

[summertimeblues]

Shit there's video calling now?





((content warning for aspic, please avert your eyes all ye who enter here))

Comments

[summertimeblues]

This is a hell of a lot of flattery, I'm disinclined to buy a word of it. What do you need them for?

[flashystyle]

I meant every word! It just so happens I need something from you at the same time. I'd like to play them, up on the Station. Everyone hates a boring meeting.

[summertimeblues]

Oh right! Is that today? Time's getting away on me.

[flashystyle]

This evening, ideally, but I may just perish before I have anyone come up here. That is always an option.

[summertimeblues]

Oh yeah? What from? Don't get too curious about the garburator.

Anyway, what's in it for me, Mustachio? These things are literally irreplaceable, can you be trusted to return them intact?

[flashystyle]

What does that even mean— [Nevermind.]

What, you think I wouldn't treat them with the utmost care a man can possibly exert? You wound me. I'll bring them back intact, and I'll... What does a man like you want?

[summertimeblues]

Okay you know what? This is important. I'm gonna worry myself sick now if something does happen.

Go to the kitchen and get a cucumber.

[flashystyle]

[There's a long pause, where Dorian just takes a deep breath and questions how much dignity he's going to have left. After he's decided he doesn't have any, he gets up to walk across the Station. Eventually:]

I'm in the kitchen with a cucumber.

[summertimeblues]

I'm so proud. Look into that sink on the left. It should have a funny hole in the bottom of it. Do you see it?

[flashystyle]

Yes, yes, I'm not blind. I already know that's where the water drains, why am I holding a cucumber?

[summertimeblues]

Because you've got to put it in the hole, Dorian.

[flashystyle]

This is possibly the strangest game of "put a phallic object in a hole" I've ever played. You're make a fool of me, aren't you?

[He says, with a background of Dorian very obviously doing it anyway.]

[summertimeblues]

Just do it. Stick the cuke in the hole!

[flashystyle]

Maker, please—never shout that again.

It's in the hole.

[summertimeblues]

Now push.

[flashystyle]

What the fuck, Richie.

[summertimeblues]

I'm being serious. You have to know.

[flashystyle]

What could I possibly learn from this experience? You're making a fool of me, I know it. I was just asking a simple question for the greater good—

[Dorian pushes the cucumber.

Dorian yelps, and drops his phone.]

What the fuck, Richie!

[summertimeblues]

[His laughter is poorly muffled.]

Listen, listen...

If you break my records, that cucumber will be your dick.

[flashystyle]

[The expression of realization and pure horror that Dorian wears as he looks between his phone screen and the garbage disposal full of a poor dick shaped vegetable can go under the definition of fear in a dictionary.]

I won't break your records.

[summertimeblues]

[This poor medieval bastard.]

Wonderful! Permission granted!

[flashystyle]

Wonderful. I... have to... go... die, now.

[summertimeblues]

Make sure you put on a good diaper! The bowels evacuate once you cork it.

[flashystyle]

Stop! Stop talking! I'm picking them up later, goodbye!

[Dorian, on the verge of being hysterical, hangs up.]

[summertimeblues]

[the last thing he hears is Richie dying of laughter

Later tater]