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capeandcowllogs2011-04-29 01:54 am
boogaroos.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-04-29 01:54 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
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.
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
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?"