Room 315, Thursday Afternoon
Nov. 27th, 2008 02:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
peace_n_warNo classes. No homework. The dorms were about as quiet as one could expect, today.
Warren had spent the better part of his day pondering how to spend it. He could swing by work, see if they had a special on turkey sandwiches or something. He could hang around in his room, continuing to be antisocial. He was good at that.
Or... he could pick up the phone. And dial. As he was currently doing.
It rang. And it rang. And it rang again. And then there was a beep. And a familiar voice.
Answering machine. He'd just leave a message.
"Hi, Mom. It's Warren. You're probably out saving the world again, huh? Yeah... So. Just calling to say Happy Thanksgiving. And all that."
He hung up. Gave his head a shake. Dialed a different number.
A ring. A ring. A ring. A beep. Another message to leave.
"Hi, Dad. I know you're not going to get this for a long, long time. Kinda crazy how they haven't cut off phone service to your secret lair yet, huh? You'll get out of prison, and you'll come back here, and there'll be a shit-ton of messages, and you're going to think, 'damn, I raised a crazy kid.' Maybe you'll be proud? I don't know. I'm not really on my way to taking over the world or whatever. It's Thanksgiving, dad. I'm at this school, off the East coast. It's my sophomore year, now. Mom pulled me out of Sky High when an old classmate of yours turned all the teachers into babies. This place isn't bad. I haven't burned the cafeteria down yet like I told you I did at Sky High in that message from last year. I have a job at the cafe in town. You'd like it. The forks and knives are sentient. There's this... girl, who visits me there. Superhero too, you know? I mean, I'm not evil or whatever, but it looks like I inherited your taste in women at least. She's... nice. Likes chocolate. I went to the homecoming dance with her. You don't mind if I wore your suit again, do you? I mean, you're not using it right now. I'll get it dry-cleaned, maybe, if it's still in fashion when you get out. I... I miss you, Dad. Happy Thanksgiving. I'll call again, maybe around Christmas. You're probably running out of room on your machine by now, right? ... Yeah. Bye, Dad."
He hung up. Looked at the phone quietly for a moment. And then gave his head a shake.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Warren," he mumbled.
He sat around for a moment more. And then picked up the phone one more time.
[Establishy-thing, unless someone doesn't mind suuuuper slowplay, not because of the holiday, but because I'm going to bed and then I work tomorrow.]
Warren had spent the better part of his day pondering how to spend it. He could swing by work, see if they had a special on turkey sandwiches or something. He could hang around in his room, continuing to be antisocial. He was good at that.
Or... he could pick up the phone. And dial. As he was currently doing.
It rang. And it rang. And it rang again. And then there was a beep. And a familiar voice.
Answering machine. He'd just leave a message.
"Hi, Mom. It's Warren. You're probably out saving the world again, huh? Yeah... So. Just calling to say Happy Thanksgiving. And all that."
He hung up. Gave his head a shake. Dialed a different number.
A ring. A ring. A ring. A beep. Another message to leave.
"Hi, Dad. I know you're not going to get this for a long, long time. Kinda crazy how they haven't cut off phone service to your secret lair yet, huh? You'll get out of prison, and you'll come back here, and there'll be a shit-ton of messages, and you're going to think, 'damn, I raised a crazy kid.' Maybe you'll be proud? I don't know. I'm not really on my way to taking over the world or whatever. It's Thanksgiving, dad. I'm at this school, off the East coast. It's my sophomore year, now. Mom pulled me out of Sky High when an old classmate of yours turned all the teachers into babies. This place isn't bad. I haven't burned the cafeteria down yet like I told you I did at Sky High in that message from last year. I have a job at the cafe in town. You'd like it. The forks and knives are sentient. There's this... girl, who visits me there. Superhero too, you know? I mean, I'm not evil or whatever, but it looks like I inherited your taste in women at least. She's... nice. Likes chocolate. I went to the homecoming dance with her. You don't mind if I wore your suit again, do you? I mean, you're not using it right now. I'll get it dry-cleaned, maybe, if it's still in fashion when you get out. I... I miss you, Dad. Happy Thanksgiving. I'll call again, maybe around Christmas. You're probably running out of room on your machine by now, right? ... Yeah. Bye, Dad."
He hung up. Looked at the phone quietly for a moment. And then gave his head a shake.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Warren," he mumbled.
He sat around for a moment more. And then picked up the phone one more time.
[Establishy-thing, unless someone doesn't mind suuuuper slowplay, not because of the holiday, but because I'm going to bed and then I work tomorrow.]
