(no subject)

[boogaroos.livejournal.com]

WHO: Booga, OPEN
WHERE: Laundromat
WHEN: 4/29, evening
WARNINGS: None that I can think of
SUMMARY: His clothes smell. He's got quarters. He puts two and two together.
FORMAT: whatever works



Booga rarely cleaned. Ever. Since Tank Girl was gone, he noticed the need to less and less. Before he wrecked the tank, the piles of dishes and mountains of beer cans quite possibly started developing their own civilizations. Luckily he had some clothes left over at the workshop, thanks to mid-project relations whenever the wife would stop in or work on stuff of her own. He gathered some more clothes since, but he was finally down to a pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt so tattered that it looked like it had seen war and was used to check the oil of a car. (Which to be fair, it probably was). He had flipped his last pair of briefs days ago. Even the cigarette smoke wasn't enough to cover the smell of sour laundry.

Wadding it all into a massive ball, he walked down the street to the nearest laundromat... most likely a trail of dirty clothes falling behind him. Kicking open the door he practically throws his pile at the nearest machine... whether someone was on it or not. Sticking out his tongue and reaching into his pockets he tried to find the quarters he recalled shoving in there.

Comments

[outspeeds.livejournal.com]

Done yet? Done yet? Done yet? Done yet? Done yet?



Hey! It reeks. What gives?

[boogaroos.livejournal.com]

Managing to pull out a handful of quarters with a victorious "Aha!" he paused, looking over to the ball of clothes- eyes wide. "Christ on a stick." Then he saw the boy's head poke out and it made sense. He exhaled. "Mother hell, I thought it started to talk."

Walking to the machine and opening it, he started nochalantly peeling the clothes away from the boy and throwing it inside. "Course it smells, otherwise I'd be wearing it."

In the process of throwing the clothes in he managed to find a pair of knickers left behind by his wife. "...Well, not this. Not on a good day anyhow." He pocketed the panties.

i'm going to assume he isn't in human form?

[outspeeds.livejournal.com]

In front of Bart was ... there was really no better way to describe him than 'giant, talking kangaroo'. In an instant, all annoyance diffused into the air; an awe replacing it instead, "Whooooa."

He picked himself up, helping to peel the clothing off too. Soon -- maybe a little too soon -- all the clothing is nicely stuffed into the washer, and Bart continues talking.

"I've never seen a kangaroo use a washing machine."

He could be asking why a kangaroo was talking to him at all, but alternate universes aren't exactly a first for him. Once you've seen everyone around you turn into gorillas, a talking kangaroo or ten doesn't really faze.

yep. he's pretty much always in 'roo-form

[boogaroos.livejournal.com]

"Thanks!" Booga smiled at the kid as he helped load his machine up. That's about the time he seemed absolutely fascinated, never seeing a kangaroo use a washing machine.

"Yeh, you and many others, mate." Booga let out a laugh. Of course Booga didn't see it as a marvel at the kind of creature he was... just the fact that he was doing laundry at all.

"If it were up to me, I'd just go nudist, but s'pose I'm afraid of getting tagged by scientists and being checked up on in a year." He shrugged, looking for detergent, eventually succeeding and throwing some in his machine. "Not that it'd be all that terrible. Always looking for ways to make new friends, right?"

With a nod and closing the washer lid, Booga slid his money in. "Quarters in aaaaaand go."

[outspeeds.livejournal.com]

"Is that what they do to other kangaroos? They should probably start wearing clothes too." Though his sentence may sound silly, it's a completely honest statement. A mental picture forms in his mind. In it, clothed kangaroos hop all over the City, punching out super-villains and carrying people in their pouches.

As Booga continues to speak, the mental picture changes accordingly. This time, Brainiac 5 is yelling at him and forcing him to sandpaper the edges of his many electronics. Bart frowns slightly, "I guess. Don't see how having a scientist for a friend would be any fun, though."

The machine starts to rumble, and Bart hops on top of it - his legs dangling. That's right, introductions are due. They tend to slip his mind.

"I'm Bart. Who're you?"

[boogaroos.livejournal.com]

"Depends on the scientist." Booga responded, leaning back against the washer across the ways.

He rose an eyebrow with a grin. "Bart huh? Booga." And then he turned his head to the side. "...So. Got a thing against scientists?"