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truffulacide) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg2012-04-24 11:12 pm
truffulacide) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-04-24 11:12 pm
Entry tags:
❀ 02
A. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]
[just as he has been doing for the past week and a half, Once-ler drags himself out of bed. it’s getting easier by the day; even if his brain doesn’t want to admit it, his body doesn’t seem to have a problem as walking – actually, lurching – down the stairs is as effortless a transition as slipping into a pair of well-used if not terribly scratchy socks. waking up early was never such a chore once upon a time, but that was because he actually had obligations. a company to manage, a factory to oversee, places to go and finances to keep in check. when your entire routine was effectively destroyed and your old way of living went with it, your priorities tended to get a shuffled in the chaos. right now, the most pressing one at the top of his list is to keep himself from falling asleep in his bowl of cereal and drowning. you can’t say that he isn’t tackling this whole change one step at a time.
finally, at the crack of noon, he starts waking up and this time there’s a noticeable change in his demeanor. instead of a braindead zombie whose only distinction from the drones is the lack of a happy face, the man who walks out 917 Bilko’s door is alert and bright and determined. he’s carrying a big brown bag that’s stamped with the logo of Mayfield’s hardware store and filled to the brim with what sounds like a large number of metallic jingly things. what sort of things, you ask? whatsits, that’s what.
as the hour drags on, the number of items you’ll see strewn about the porch may change (somewhere during the controlled chaos, a radio and a big plate of French toast are brought out), but the general sight doesn’t – it’s just Once-ler bustling around the front of the house with a screwdriver in one hand and a wrench in the other, doing what looks like basic repairs to the house. at least, they look basic…at a glance. home maintenance shouldn’t involve completely dismantling the doorbell panel and rewiring the whole thing from scratch, nor should it have anything to do with drilling a little compartment below it that’s big enough to attach a small hammer outfitted with a spring mechanism inside of it. when he’s done with that little modification, he allows himself a triumphant smile.]
Oh, yeah. I’m good.
[to his credit, it looks like he’s having fun. he cranks up the radio’s volume and stuffs another piece of toast in his mouth, then begins work on sawing a square-shaped hole on the porch’s floor. by the time the next song comes on, he’s humming along with it.]
B. [ACTION: MAYFIELD GENERAL STORE]
[apparently, it’s not a good idea to make breakfast foods for every meal. at first he just wanted to blame the drone kids for it because that’s the easiest solution, but he’s pretty sure that he’s the only one who makes use of the boxes of pancake batter in their house. when they start piling up in the garbage, he realizes that it might not be so easy to pin the crime on the children because, as robotic as they are, their weirdness doesn’t extend that far. if he’s going to feed his ridiculous habit, he’s going to have to restock the pantry.
so it’s to the grocery store Once-ler goes and it couldn’t be more awkward for him. he’s still getting used to doing his own shopping because, up until recently, he’s never really had to. the job was always left to his servants and other such hired help. now he has a list to follow – a relatively simple, short one, but a list all the same. sweet things are a necessity of course, and he wastes no time with piling the bottom of his cart with the biggest bags of marshmallows the store stocks. if you run into him, you’re likely to see him eating from an open one as he continues to indiscriminately shovel things into the buggy, not quite paying attention where he’s going or whose feet he runs over.
clearly he has a lot to relearn about this whole independence thing. and, you know...dealing with people.]
[just as he has been doing for the past week and a half, Once-ler drags himself out of bed. it’s getting easier by the day; even if his brain doesn’t want to admit it, his body doesn’t seem to have a problem as walking – actually, lurching – down the stairs is as effortless a transition as slipping into a pair of well-used if not terribly scratchy socks. waking up early was never such a chore once upon a time, but that was because he actually had obligations. a company to manage, a factory to oversee, places to go and finances to keep in check. when your entire routine was effectively destroyed and your old way of living went with it, your priorities tended to get a shuffled in the chaos. right now, the most pressing one at the top of his list is to keep himself from falling asleep in his bowl of cereal and drowning. you can’t say that he isn’t tackling this whole change one step at a time.
finally, at the crack of noon, he starts waking up and this time there’s a noticeable change in his demeanor. instead of a braindead zombie whose only distinction from the drones is the lack of a happy face, the man who walks out 917 Bilko’s door is alert and bright and determined. he’s carrying a big brown bag that’s stamped with the logo of Mayfield’s hardware store and filled to the brim with what sounds like a large number of metallic jingly things. what sort of things, you ask? whatsits, that’s what.
as the hour drags on, the number of items you’ll see strewn about the porch may change (somewhere during the controlled chaos, a radio and a big plate of French toast are brought out), but the general sight doesn’t – it’s just Once-ler bustling around the front of the house with a screwdriver in one hand and a wrench in the other, doing what looks like basic repairs to the house. at least, they look basic…at a glance. home maintenance shouldn’t involve completely dismantling the doorbell panel and rewiring the whole thing from scratch, nor should it have anything to do with drilling a little compartment below it that’s big enough to attach a small hammer outfitted with a spring mechanism inside of it. when he’s done with that little modification, he allows himself a triumphant smile.]
Oh, yeah. I’m good.
[to his credit, it looks like he’s having fun. he cranks up the radio’s volume and stuffs another piece of toast in his mouth, then begins work on sawing a square-shaped hole on the porch’s floor. by the time the next song comes on, he’s humming along with it.]
B. [ACTION: MAYFIELD GENERAL STORE]
[apparently, it’s not a good idea to make breakfast foods for every meal. at first he just wanted to blame the drone kids for it because that’s the easiest solution, but he’s pretty sure that he’s the only one who makes use of the boxes of pancake batter in their house. when they start piling up in the garbage, he realizes that it might not be so easy to pin the crime on the children because, as robotic as they are, their weirdness doesn’t extend that far. if he’s going to feed his ridiculous habit, he’s going to have to restock the pantry.
so it’s to the grocery store Once-ler goes and it couldn’t be more awkward for him. he’s still getting used to doing his own shopping because, up until recently, he’s never really had to. the job was always left to his servants and other such hired help. now he has a list to follow – a relatively simple, short one, but a list all the same. sweet things are a necessity of course, and he wastes no time with piling the bottom of his cart with the biggest bags of marshmallows the store stocks. if you run into him, you’re likely to see him eating from an open one as he continues to indiscriminately shovel things into the buggy, not quite paying attention where he’s going or whose feet he runs over.
clearly he has a lot to relearn about this whole independence thing. and, you know...dealing with people.]