![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
minervasolo::pouts:: not at pub. On the plus side, extended this. Also, have awesome hair.
"So that's when I realised I had to do something," the American was saying. "I just... I had to do something."
Arthur nods. His face has fixed itself in an expression usually reserved for madmen and Zaphod Beeblebrox, and he's craving a cup of tea in a way that probably deserves an intervention. He's had three papercups of brown liquid from various coffeeshops around the city, and none of them were tea. One of them might have been motor oil.
The American has said something else, so Arthur nods again. At least he isn't talking about eyeshadow any more.
There's a skinnier one combing the mane of a My Little Pony in furious concentration, but thankfully he hasn't spoken since the conversation moved away from make-up. The My Little Pony has blood-red nailpolish dripping down its unicorn horn, like it gored something particularly glossy. It also appears to be wearing eyeliner. Both Americans are.
"Obviously I don't think I can save the world on my own - I mean 'our' own, the band too, obviously - but I just want to make a difference. Do you know what the teen suicide rates are in this country?"
Arthur doesn't, and has to admit to himself he doesn't care. He's not sure he even remembers being a teenager, but his general experience with the new breed has not been pleasant.
He really wants a cup of tea. He really, really wants to know where Ford is.
#
Ford doesn't give a shit where Arthur is. He's found some fabulous froods. Better than fabulous; alcohol-owning froods. Alcohol sharing froods. Even if Ford knows that the Guide does not define "beer" as something that tastes like someone else drank it first (though that is the Guide's definition of "Most Free Beer", funnily enough).
"I work for this book. The Book," Ford tells them.
The blond one nods. His tattooed pet climbs across his shoulders and helps himself to another beer.
"Do you hitchhike?" Ford asks. "I work for the, whasshit, hitchhiker's books. You know it?"
The tattooed monkey gibbers about rough guides to lonely planets.
"Planetsh? Yeah, I've seen some lonely ones. And some rough ones." Ford snorts nostalgically. "Yeah, rough." He finds another bottle of beer in his hand. "Got m'towel," he says.
Things get a bit fuzzy. Ford explains the important of a towel, but apparently the small one likes washing. Ford struggled to get past this, to make him understand that towels can be applied in times without a nice bubbly bath, but some how it keeps coming back to washing. Having smelt the guys Arthur went off with - he can't remember what they looked like, but they smelt like The Cavern back when Ford palled around with Richard Starkey - Ford concedes being able to wash is rightfully important to the monkey.
#
"I'm so depressed."
"Are you Mac based? You look Mac based."
"Brain the size of a planet, and he thinks I was designed by a man named Jobs."
"What sort of processor do you have?"
"A very big one. It's so depressing."
#
The next day, Ford remembers almost nothing and has dark rings under his eyes. Arthur remembers a lot of what he classifies as nothing, and has dark rings around his eyes and some tasteful robin's egg blue shadows on his lids. Bob cannot be persuaded to go anywhere without a towel, Gerard has switched coffee for tea, and Ray is in an uncharactersically low mood.
Now with additional Avon!Gerard fic
"So that's when I realised I had to do something," the American was saying. "I just... I had to do something."
Arthur nods. His face has fixed itself in an expression usually reserved for madmen and Zaphod Beeblebrox, and he's craving a cup of tea in a way that probably deserves an intervention. He's had three papercups of brown liquid from various coffeeshops around the city, and none of them were tea. One of them might have been motor oil.
The American has said something else, so Arthur nods again. At least he isn't talking about eyeshadow any more.
There's a skinnier one combing the mane of a My Little Pony in furious concentration, but thankfully he hasn't spoken since the conversation moved away from make-up. The My Little Pony has blood-red nailpolish dripping down its unicorn horn, like it gored something particularly glossy. It also appears to be wearing eyeliner. Both Americans are.
"Obviously I don't think I can save the world on my own - I mean 'our' own, the band too, obviously - but I just want to make a difference. Do you know what the teen suicide rates are in this country?"
Arthur doesn't, and has to admit to himself he doesn't care. He's not sure he even remembers being a teenager, but his general experience with the new breed has not been pleasant.
He really wants a cup of tea. He really, really wants to know where Ford is.
#
Ford doesn't give a shit where Arthur is. He's found some fabulous froods. Better than fabulous; alcohol-owning froods. Alcohol sharing froods. Even if Ford knows that the Guide does not define "beer" as something that tastes like someone else drank it first (though that is the Guide's definition of "Most Free Beer", funnily enough).
"I work for this book. The Book," Ford tells them.
The blond one nods. His tattooed pet climbs across his shoulders and helps himself to another beer.
"Do you hitchhike?" Ford asks. "I work for the, whasshit, hitchhiker's books. You know it?"
The tattooed monkey gibbers about rough guides to lonely planets.
"Planetsh? Yeah, I've seen some lonely ones. And some rough ones." Ford snorts nostalgically. "Yeah, rough." He finds another bottle of beer in his hand. "Got m'towel," he says.
Things get a bit fuzzy. Ford explains the important of a towel, but apparently the small one likes washing. Ford struggled to get past this, to make him understand that towels can be applied in times without a nice bubbly bath, but some how it keeps coming back to washing. Having smelt the guys Arthur went off with - he can't remember what they looked like, but they smelt like The Cavern back when Ford palled around with Richard Starkey - Ford concedes being able to wash is rightfully important to the monkey.
#
"I'm so depressed."
"Are you Mac based? You look Mac based."
"Brain the size of a planet, and he thinks I was designed by a man named Jobs."
"What sort of processor do you have?"
"A very big one. It's so depressing."
#
The next day, Ford remembers almost nothing and has dark rings under his eyes. Arthur remembers a lot of what he classifies as nothing, and has dark rings around his eyes and some tasteful robin's egg blue shadows on his lids. Bob cannot be persuaded to go anywhere without a towel, Gerard has switched coffee for tea, and Ray is in an uncharactersically low mood.
Now with additional Avon!Gerard fic
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:05 pm (UTC)I ACTUALLY THINK THIS MAY BE THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY WEEK SO FAR. <3
no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:50 pm (UTC)... Sorry, too much Bert!Brain. But you get the idea.
no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:56 pm (UTC)I can't believe I'm only coming up with serious fic for a concept like Avon!Gerard (not angsty, but not crack).
I'll fix this.
no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:57 pm (UTC)Something like...
Date: 3/6/09 09:05 pm (UTC)"I'm quitting the band."
"Gerard, you can't quit the band. You write the lyrics."
"I know, Ray, and I'm sorry, but I've found my vocation."
"I thought saving the world through music was your vocation."
"I'll still be saving the world! I'll be saving the world from inferior cosmetics!"
"Gerard..."
"No, Ray, let me show you. I have the travel case right here. Now, you're an Autumn, and your skin is medium... let's see, that's Sand. Now, this base is waterproof, and has a matte finish, which means you won't look sweaty on stage! And I think the Bonfire eyeshadow..."
Re: Something like...
Date: 4/6/09 11:19 am (UTC)I am having the kind of day at work where I feel justified in calling this "lunch"
Date: 4/6/09 11:38 am (UTC)"What makes you think I can? Or what to? He's happy."
"He's our lead singer. We need him."
"It's not mutually exclusive, Frank. I mean, he's been selling make-up for years now. He gets commission for every case Pete sells, since he introduced him to it."
"Pete Wentz... No. Look, Mikey, he's not talking about it as a sideline. He's talking about quitting the band."
"This is what he loves. I'm not going to take that away from him."
"Well, then... Point out that he could sell to the fans. At gigs. I mean, there's his customers right there. He could probably win that pink car in one gig."
"That's Mary Kay, not Avon. Besides, that would be selling out."
"Yeah, but... have you seen our fans? If he's saving the world from inferior make-up, like he told Ray, it's a pretty good place to start."
"You may have a point."
"Of course I have a point. Just talk to him, will you?"
"Alright. So, you've seen Ray, then?"
"Yeah. It's..."
"Yeah. It is, isn't it?"
"I'm not saying he doesn't look nice. He just doesn't look like Ray."
"I never knew his hair was so long."
"I never knew a conditioner existed that would actually allow it to stay straightened. And Gee did his eyebrows too."
"He looks nice."
"Yeah. Nice."
"The lipstick looks good on you, by the way. It's subtle, but draws attention to your NJ tatt. And it really goes with that eyeshadow."
"Really? Thanks. I'll give him that, Gee really knows what he's doing."
Re: I am having the kind of day at work where I feel justified in calling this "lunch"
Date: 4/6/09 11:40 am (UTC)Re: I am having the kind of day at work where I feel justified in calling this "lunch"
Date: 4/6/09 06:55 pm (UTC)I AM DEAD FROM LAUGHTER
Re: I am having the kind of day at work where I feel justified in calling this "lunch"
Date: 5/6/09 02:38 am (UTC)Re: I am having the kind of day at work where I feel justified in calling this "lunch"
Date: 22/6/09 01:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 3/6/09 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 3/6/09 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 3/6/09 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 4/6/09 12:51 am (UTC)Hehehehe His tattooed pet climbs across his shoulders and helps himself to another beer.
THIS MAKES ME INORDINATELY HAPPY.
no subject
Date: 4/6/09 01:44 am (UTC)How do I always end up meeting the best people online?
*snuggle!flail*
no subject
Date: 4/6/09 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 4/6/09 07:49 am (UTC)*clappy hands* Fantabulous!