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The Fool is staring at the door with a handful of peanuts. It's a hard intent stare. He's an unhappy Fool.

At random intervals the Fool tosses a peanut at the door.

Also whenever someone opens the door.

Or the door opens.

Clearly botherable.

And clearly bothering people.

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A peanut is very lightly dropped down from the rafters towards the Fool's head.

The source of this peanut is a lazily reclining, scruffy fellow some ways above him.

When said peanut drops onto his nose, the Fool goes cross-eyed and gets confused. It wasn't one of his peanuts that just hit him. It did come from above so the Fool looks up to see Atton.

"You're stealing my shtick," he says indignantly.

"Actually, you're stealing mine. I did a survey, ninety percent of the bar agrees."

Beat. Solemn look.

"Ninety-one percent said you have a stupid face, which was weird, 'cause that wasn't one of the survey questions."

"Are you sure that wasn't referring to you?" The Fool asks.

"And I can assure you I've got the peanut throwing thing trademarked."

"I'm certain. I asked what my face was like. Seventy percent said 'charmingly rogueish' and thirty percent said 'highly attractive and shapely'."

"No, that's my face. Anyone could tell that. It's as obvious as the coming of death."

Plaintively: "But you look like a sulky warthog."

A sulky warthog?

"And you look like a squirrel died on your head, but you don't see me pointing that out."

"Hey! My hair is great, shut up!"

"Sure if you like dead animals. Maybe you can be like Davey Crockett, grow some hair out and call it a tail. No one will be able to tell the difference."

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stuck-mynock.livejournal.com - 2011-05-05 02:04 (UTC) - Expand

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forgottenmotley - 2011-05-05 02:45 (UTC) - Expand

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stuck-mynock.livejournal.com - 2011-05-06 11:20 (UTC) - Expand

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forgottenmotley - 2011-05-06 16:00 (UTC) - Expand

Since the Fool has spent the evening bothering people, perhaps it's his turn to be bothered?

Deserved or not, the Fool and his peanuts are suddenly bombarded. First, by a very large, very muddy bullfrog who comes springing straight at him.

And then by an equally muddy boy who's chasing the frog.

And the older, less muddy boy who's chasing them both.

The Fool tumbles off his seat as the frog goes flying into his hat. Peanuts scatter everywhere. Dazed he stares up at the ceiling.

William catches up with them and then slips on some peanuts and ends up on his back too,

"Bill, he's stayin' still, get 'im!"

Bill clambers over the Fool to get at the frog, pouncing the hat in the hopes of catching him.

The frog leaps, landing on Bill's head and springing clear to the Fool's chest, and then hops off onto William. A second later, Frankie's bounding back across the room for the door again.

"Shoot," Bill sighs, looking down at his empty hands and the rumpled hat.

"Frog!" the Fool croaks. "Hat! Frog... hat! Small child!"

He blinks.

"That was highly unexpected."

It takes William a bit to get standing again but after crunching some peanuts he manages it. Then tips his hat to the Fool, "Sorry about that, sir. Get a drink on my tab, William Evans." There's a long croak from near the front of door as Frankie has spotted freedom and William runs to catch up with Bill.

Edited 2011-05-04 06:33 (UTC)

Urquhart doesn't get doors, so he doesn't get peanuts thrown at him.

But he grins at the Fool as he walks over to the bar to get himself a coffee.

He gets a peanut thrown at him anyway.

How dare he be cheerful!

"Morning!" Urquhart says as his coffee appears.

Another peanut, this time into the coffee cup.

"Mrrghl!"

Splash!

Urquhart has some tiny specks of coffee on his shirt now, but he doesn't mind, as the shirt is dark anyway.

"Not a good morning?"

"No. The door is gone," he says sourly.

"Where did you go to when it was still there?" Urquhart asks.

An archetype fits everywhere, in many times, after all.

"To the caverns of the Blind King," he replies, launching another peanut at some hapless door-opener.

That they do. This archetype has his own home though, with those who made him.

So they do -- Tower tends to go there as well. But Urquhart doesn't know that.

"You could do better things than throw peanuts at the door, though," he says.