Formspring Chronicles: Of Zombies and Strange Anons
Author's Note: Kudos/brownie points if you spot all the pop culture references in my posts.
Title: Fly, Nappo, Fly!
Rating: G (for GERONIMO! [and Doctor Who]) Or, if you like, PG for Philosophical Generalisation.
Genre: More attempted humour
Fandom: Katekyoushi Hitman Reborn
Summary: Awoo~! Zombies in Nami!
It had been but a day since that disastrous week, and already a new form of torment had appeared: undoubtedly dreamt up by someone who had watched a little too much of Michael Jackson's Thriller.
No, that wasn't right. Those had been werewolves...
Regardless, Mukuro watched with some amusement at the figure that slowly tottered towards him. A person quiet pasty and sickly in appearance, with limply-hanging limbs and dragging feet. And no head. And also quite on fire.
The zombie's hands grasped randomly at objects, searching blindly for something (Mukuro assumed its head). It staggered about the room, slowly moving closer and closer to where he stood. One of its hands reached towards his trident. With a slight frown he moved away, leaving the hand flailing in empty space.
This member of the walking dead looked to be providing Mukuro with some new entertainment now that those events were (hopefully) over and done with. He wondered how a dead body could possibly be made animate, and what drove the mindless thing on. Was there a soul? Was it capable of thought? Did it know what it was doing? All unanswerable questions, since zombies as a rule do not speak coherently.
...Except Frankenstein's monster. Though could that being really have been called a 'zombie'...?
Somehow, the zombie managed to grab hold of a nearby pineapple (where had that come from?) and a marker pen - a Sharpie. With the pen, the zombie drew something on the surface of the fruit and presented it for Mukuro's inspection.
Mukuro narrowed his eyes at the outline of a lopsided face. "Is that...supposed to be me?"
The zombie's body inclined forward slightly, which Mukuro took to be a substitute for a nod.
"Mukuro. Why are there zombies wandering around?" a voice suddenly asked from behind him. He turned to see Hibari, face impassive, looking at his undead visitor. Then the man saw the fruity effigy and chuckled.
"Hm. I never thought a zombie could have a sense of humour," he commented.
The zombie stabbed at the pineapple with the blunt end of its pen. Mukuro took the opportunity to deliver a mighty kick squarely in the thing's chest, sending it flying across the room. He did the same for the pineapple (in a way that World Cup players would envy) except to the opposite side. He misjudged the strength of his kick, though, and the fruit went sailing off into the distance.
Meanwhile, somewhere halfway across the world, Fran was busy doing...nothing. Well, moping around, really. He was still suffering the effects of that week. He had thought to do the clever thing and hide until the whole gender shebang had blown over, but no - he had been found.
So he was female for a week. The Fake Prince was going to tease him something awful if he showed his face now, he thought to himself - even worse than usual. In the middle of his thoughts, something made him look upwards.
Some sort of object was flying towards him out of the sky.
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's-- oh. Fran quickly took several steps to the side as the object landed with a loud squelch and splatter on the wall behind where he had been standing moments before. Several sticky chunks and juice landed on his uniform.
Fran blinked at the mess for a few seconds before he finally identified the mysterious missile.
"...I wonder what that was all about."
(In the end, it seemed that Squalo had been responsible for cutting off the thing's head, while Bel had kicked it somewhere far away...)
Title: Fly, Nappo, Fly!
Rating: G (for GERONIMO! [and Doctor Who]) Or, if you like, PG for Philosophical Generalisation.
Genre: More attempted humour
Fandom: Katekyoushi Hitman Reborn
Summary: Awoo~! Zombies in Nami!
It had been but a day since that disastrous week, and already a new form of torment had appeared: undoubtedly dreamt up by someone who had watched a little too much of Michael Jackson's Thriller.
No, that wasn't right. Those had been werewolves...
Regardless, Mukuro watched with some amusement at the figure that slowly tottered towards him. A person quiet pasty and sickly in appearance, with limply-hanging limbs and dragging feet. And no head. And also quite on fire.
The zombie's hands grasped randomly at objects, searching blindly for something (Mukuro assumed its head). It staggered about the room, slowly moving closer and closer to where he stood. One of its hands reached towards his trident. With a slight frown he moved away, leaving the hand flailing in empty space.
This member of the walking dead looked to be providing Mukuro with some new entertainment now that those events were (hopefully) over and done with. He wondered how a dead body could possibly be made animate, and what drove the mindless thing on. Was there a soul? Was it capable of thought? Did it know what it was doing? All unanswerable questions, since zombies as a rule do not speak coherently.
...Except Frankenstein's monster. Though could that being really have been called a 'zombie'...?
Somehow, the zombie managed to grab hold of a nearby pineapple (where had that come from?) and a marker pen - a Sharpie. With the pen, the zombie drew something on the surface of the fruit and presented it for Mukuro's inspection.
Mukuro narrowed his eyes at the outline of a lopsided face. "Is that...supposed to be me?"
The zombie's body inclined forward slightly, which Mukuro took to be a substitute for a nod.
"Mukuro. Why are there zombies wandering around?" a voice suddenly asked from behind him. He turned to see Hibari, face impassive, looking at his undead visitor. Then the man saw the fruity effigy and chuckled.
"Hm. I never thought a zombie could have a sense of humour," he commented.
The zombie stabbed at the pineapple with the blunt end of its pen. Mukuro took the opportunity to deliver a mighty kick squarely in the thing's chest, sending it flying across the room. He did the same for the pineapple (in a way that World Cup players would envy) except to the opposite side. He misjudged the strength of his kick, though, and the fruit went sailing off into the distance.
Meanwhile, somewhere halfway across the world, Fran was busy doing...nothing. Well, moping around, really. He was still suffering the effects of that week. He had thought to do the clever thing and hide until the whole gender shebang had blown over, but no - he had been found.
So he was female for a week. The Fake Prince was going to tease him something awful if he showed his face now, he thought to himself - even worse than usual. In the middle of his thoughts, something made him look upwards.
Some sort of object was flying towards him out of the sky.
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's-- oh. Fran quickly took several steps to the side as the object landed with a loud squelch and splatter on the wall behind where he had been standing moments before. Several sticky chunks and juice landed on his uniform.
Fran blinked at the mess for a few seconds before he finally identified the mysterious missile.
"...I wonder what that was all about."
(In the end, it seemed that Squalo had been responsible for cutting off the thing's head, while Bel had kicked it somewhere far away...)