milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There's a Speak N' Spell in the bar.

It's just sitting there.

Play with it. It wants to spell right now!

Chase shakes his head. He's never used one of these things before. "So...what, I just say things and you spell them?"

"b-U-T-t-O-N-s." Push the buttons, Chase. Spell out a word.

Chase is hesitant to touch the thing. Gingerly, he pokes a few buttons. "A-B-C-D-E-F."

"aBcDEf." It comes out horribly twisted. "ThaT iS NOt a WoRd, ChASe."

Chase swallows. "I, uh, I was never very good at spelling," he says, hoping to pacify the thing. "S-o-r-r-y," he types, for lack of anything else to say.

"SoRrY."

"hOw Did MArY DiE hoW dId MArY DiE? MoNKeY FUCkInG A COcONut cOcOnuT c-O-c-o-N-u-t."

"What?" Chase, hopelessly confused, narrows his eyes at the thing.

"cOulD bE a mElOn lOoKs LIke A cOcONut."

"Right." Chase frowns. He's had enough of this, and he's very annoyed with himself for letting himself be afraid of a talking hunk of plastic. "Look, thing. You want people to play with you, then start making sense and be nice about it."

"plAy WiTh mE." It sounds almost... pitiful.

Yet still demonic.

"I'm not playing with you unless you quit with the monkeys and the coconuts and start being civil," says Chase sternly. But he does feel just a tad sorry for the thing. He has been known to sympathize with evil incarnate before.

"I wAnT To sPeLl," it whines (demonically).

"RigHt noW."

"Say 'please.'" Military discipline, that's what it needs. "Nicely."

"P-L-e-A-S-e n-I-c-e-L-y SpEciaL aGent C-H-a-S-e c-H-A-se."

"ThErE cAn OnLY bE oNe HiGhlAndEr," it mutters darkly.

"Good," says Chase approvingly.

He pauses. "Wait, what?"

"ThE tiRe iS OuT foR V-E-n-g-E-a-N-c-E," the Speak N' Spell warns urgently.

Great. Because Chase doesn't get enough vengeance at work. "I deal with terrorists all the time. I'm not too worried about a tire."

"ThIs TiRE hUNTEd M-A-r-Y DoWn. tHe TiRe m-Ur-D-e-r-E-d MarY."

"ThIs TiRe WaSn'T fUckIng ArOUnd, As wE lIKe tO sAY."

Chase raises an eyebrow at the thing, unnerved. "Who's Mary?" And what tire?

"JeSuS ChRist TiMmY dO nOt F-l-o-A-t fLoAt AboVe mE wHEn i'm D-y-i-N-g iN ThE AbySS!"

Chase gives up. "I'm leaving now," he says firmly. "No more spelling. Find someone else to play with."

He walks away, as fast as he can without looking like he's actually running away from the toy in fear.

"HoW dId C-h-A-s-E dIe?"

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