Lonely children on the run...

[toddbaby.livejournal.com]

Todd's out by the lake tonight, sitting on a tree stump. In his lap rests his exquisitely cared-for Winchester .30-.30 rifle (with removable telescopic scope...), and he's insuring the further life of by lovingly polishing the instrument with a bottle of Alpaca gun oil.*



* It's canon! Whee!

Comments

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*Something shimmers between the trees. A ghostly figure. Fading light glints off eyes made silver by it.*

[toddbaby.livejournal.com]

Todd glances up from his business, eyes alert. His grip unconsciously tightens on the gun a little, and he sits up a bit straighter...

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*The moon sails out from behind a cloud. It's a shame Paul has no door to throw open.

He stands there in a pair of red jogging shorts. His head has been bashed in behind the left temple. The blood has dried on his face in maroon stripes like Indian warpaint. His collar bone juts whitely. He is grinning.

He is plagirising almost directly from Pet Sematary.

[toddbaby.livejournal.com]

Alas, Pet Sematary hasn't been published yet and poor Todd-baby won't get the reference. He does stand up, though, gun cocked and pointed at Paul.

When he sees who it is, though, he completely dissolves into nearly crazed laughter...

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*Paul laughs as well, even though he doesn't look half bad in those shorts. They're 1980's!shorts.*

Come on, Bowden. We got places to go.

*That's what Victor Pascow said, anyway.*

[toddbaby.livejournal.com]

Todd is definitely checking Paul out in the shorts. Hardcore.

He wets his lips and pulls the rifle back. "I got my gun. We should go looking for Mr. Bookman." He stares outright at Paul's crotch before he goes over and grabs his rifle case, throwing the accessories in while he's at it. He doesn't put the rifle away, t hough...

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*Paul turns and begins to walk away. Away from the lake. The bar. Past SMUCKY THE CAT, HE WAS OBEDIANT..

Finally he lifts one arm and points. A building sits in the moonlight. A shack. A boathouse.*

The door must not be opened.

*Paul pauses for a moment to think about what he has said. He shakes his head. Shut up, Victor.*

I mean...check it out. Swell, huh? Wanna go in?

[toddbaby.livejournal.com]

Todd's eyes are as big as apple pies. Shiny new 1978 quarters. Frisbees. A dead bum's gaping mouth. You name it.

"That looks promising, Casper. Why the hell haven't I noticed it before?" He might be vaguely peeved that Paul's noticed something when he hasn't, but whatever. There's more important things at hand.

He moves right up to the door, turning into Tom Sawyer: Commando. Given that he's carrying a rifle, it really works. And then he kicks the door open with his foot, grinning like a motherfucker. (Or he tries, at any rate.)

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*The Door seems to think for a moment, before swinging politely open.*

Remember this: there is more power here than you know. It is old and always restless.

And there may be silverfish. So watch your step.

[toddbaby.livejournal.com]

Todd turns slowly and looks at Paul, eyebrows raised.

"Have you been here already, Casper?" He's mildly disappointed that Bookman's not on the other side of the door, but hey.

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*Paul shakes his head*

Nah. But I borrowed it from a pal.

*He adds quickly*

Not that sort of pal.

[toddbaby.livejournal.com]

Todd looks at him suspiciously. "Oh yeah? Who?"

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*Paul shrugs*

Tall guy. Horns. Likes the outdoors.

[toddbaby.livejournal.com]

Todd's look turns absolutely quizzical, but he lets it slide. This time.

Because now it's showtime... (http://www.livejournal.com/community/thebooooathouse/265.html)