29 June 2012 @ 10:43 pm
A Pilgrim-age to Finding Happiness  
[There was no time to waste, not a second to lose. Having already missed this opportunity twice before, there was no way that our hero, Scott Pilgrim, would miss out on it for a third time. Like a back draft, Scott came barreling out of the master bedroom in clothing that obviously looked as if it had been plucked from the carpet where it had been thrown.

He rushed down the stairs in a flurry of kicking legs and flailing arms, throwing his front door open without concern for those still resting in their beds as the hinges groaned and the door slammed against its frame. Down the porch, out into the street, and down toward his destination. He ran with the sensation that his lung were going to burst, wishing that he had the grace and talent of Ferris Buellar as he ran through backyards and leaped over fences.

It took him only a matter of a few minutes before he reached the address of 1332 on Benny Road. Lurching forward, his hands grasped the tops of his knees as he bent down to try and catch his breath. He didn't have the time to waste, not now. He sucked in a large gasp, his lungs burning with pain in the chilled morning air. It was not even five past seven in the morning when he approached the front door, raising an exhausted fist to rap against the entrance. He slammed the fist loudly, stopping only for a moment to cover his mouth to cough as he tried to breathe.]

"Mi-GACK! *COUGH COUGH* Mi-Kuuuh~!"

[He continued to pound on the door. He would be certain to apologize to those in the house once he had completed his task. Though he was certain, in the back of his thoughts, that an apology would more than likely not be adequate enough to make up for the lack of sleeping in.]
14 March 2012 @ 10:55 pm
Scott's So-Called Life - Wednesday Nights on CBC!  
[To the residents of 2242 Stevens Road]

-He awoke with a sudden gasp, as if he had just come to the surface from under water. Breathing and choking to fill his lungs, Scott Pilgrim sprung from his bed and fell to the floor. Clutching at his chest as he abruptly came to consciousness one fine Wednesday evening, his thuds and bumping echo through out the house. Able to speak some what coherently, he cries out for help.-



[Phone. Filtered to: No one. Public? Why yes indeed!]

-There's an awful lot of whining coming from the other line, like that of a small, starving puppy.-

"*sniffle* Why..? God.. Why? Is there a God? Some one, please tell me there's no God! At least then I'll know some one up there doesn't hate me because they don't exist!"
Current Mood: depressed