Twenty Sixth Shot

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

Holy cramwhistle, did you guys see that fricken ghost baby? It fricken exploded all over me like sparkledust out of a guy's pee-pee.

[...Wait. That came out wrong]

What the frick?

...

NO SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FICKEN FRICK IS FRICKETY FRICKEN GOING ON FRICKEN HERE?

...

Fricky frick? Spucket!

[[ooc: Loss started!]]

Comments

kitchen filter forever

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

[Aziraphale had just been making himself a nice cup of PG Tips when he heard the young lady sitting at the table. Turning, he gives a rather approving nod in her direction.]

How nice to see a young lady not giving in to the modern penchant for potty-language.

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

[She just stares at him]

Frick-that! It's this spucketing castle and it's piddlywink losses!

FRICK!!! Make it stop!

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

Make what stop, miss? Are you hurt?

[Oh no! Is the castle doing something to her? Cue the nervous hovering that is only done correctly by the clueless well-wishers of a certain age.]

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

NO YOU FLONGLE! I'M ON A FRICKEN LOSS!

[And oh hey, she's just realised something]

You're British! Like hot British Actor Guy! The one that does hot shipypie in hot suits!

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

[Most of that, thankfully, goes right over his head.]

British? Oh, yes indeed I am.

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

I always wanted to play the fandango with a British guy.

[Slinking...closer. GET OUT OF THERE, AZI!!]

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

[He brightens visibly.]

It just so happens I took ballroom lessons once, and am familiar with the fandango.

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

[And then she's right up next to him, her helmet being discarded on the ground so she can whisper sultrily in his ear]

I want you to put your peepee in my bajango.

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

[...Wait for it...]

The fandango isn't played with a banjo, my dear.

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

[Sister pauses in confusion for a minute, before, oh hell forget it. She's just going to try to rip open your shirt]

Not that kind of music biddlepop.

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

[The shirt rips open and buttons go pinging off everywhere. Aziraphale was about to bemoan the loss of a perfectly good item of clothing, when the answer to why he had been feeling so itchy all morning literally fell at his feet.

A dead dove.

...Oh yes, so that's the trick he had forgotten to practice. Darn.]

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

[WHAT.

THE.

FRICK]

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

...Oh dear.

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

Duuuuuude! What kinf oa s sick fricken bubblebomb are you?

SHIIIIIZLE!

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

Not to fear, please stop shouting!

[girly-laps.livejournal.com]

No way, man, that is FRICKED UP!

[madetothwart.livejournal.com]

Please, madam.

[Highly flustered, he bends to pick up the dove which... flies off.]