(Untitled)

[dingdongdoodily]

When Miniver said 'home', just in the way that he did, it gave new meaning to it as Pickles stepped in through the door that was supposed to lead to the patio, but didn't. He looked around at the condo, the living room with its small piles of clutter, the posters in frames on the wall, the bookshelf, the TV

Comments

[cheevy]

"The technical definition of tacky crap is very simply stuff people are embarassed at having spent money on," Miniver says loftily. "I think it's awesome."

And in the 60's, EVERYTHING WAS TACKY CRAP.

"Um, I kept one by my bed so I could look at it when I couldn't sleep, and it'd calm me down a lot."

Cuz, he did have this habit of freaking out at weird shit when he was alone. NOT THAT PICKLES HAS TO KNOW ABOUT THIS. Fucking emo kids.

[dingdongdoodily]

"Mm. Understand that. Kinda why I never turn the fan off in the bedroom." Pickles nodded, making a spinning motion with his finger, "It's the sound of the thing, not the motion, though that helps, too."

He dropped back down beside Miniver, grinning. "But I'll warn you now, I ain't got a single velvet painting, so don't even ask. I do got a few blacklight posters and yeah, blacklights. Got errr... Well, I mean, I have a few drawers fulla stuff I haven't put up in a room since I moved here, but didn't feel like gettin' rid of because it's just too cool, y'know?"

He was once, believe it or not, a teenage boy, and had the usual teenage boy crap all over the place.

[cheevy]

And so, believe it or not, was Miniver. Just... in a somewhat more subdued, depressive, impoverished way.

"Can I see? I mean... you never know what you forget you put places. Some of it might be great to have back out."

[dingdongdoodily]

"Go nuts, dude, but er... don't ask if you see somethin' questionable."

namely the posters of women in bikinis.

[cheevy]

Miniver raises a brow.

"I've seen rooms belonging to arguably evil people, dead people, Darren Nichols... what could you possibly have that I'd find questionable?"