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paradisalost2011-02-03 10:57 pm
terrorwhatflaps.livejournal.com) wrote in paradisalost2011-02-03 10:57 pm
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7: the chill that runs up your spine
[thanks to Eris' machinations, Darkwing's usual manic-depressiveness has been turned up to 11. he's spent the whole week so far down in town, picking up random townspeople for tiny things: littering, jaywalking, waitresses who pick up dishes from the left instead of the right... THAT SORT OF THING. currently, he's on the Brood Spot of Brood Spots, THE ROOF, sitting on the edge, his feet hanging over...]
The people of Paradisa can sleep safe tonight, knowing that Darkwing Duck has done his diligent duty, scouring the streets of scum!
[pause. crickets are audible over the journal, somehow, in the dead of winter. CRICKETS]
So where are the parades? The medals? The keys to the city? ... [miserably, his voice slowly winding up to one perfectly-practiced moaning whinge of self-pity] I'd even take a thank-you. But this place is ... this is even worse than St. Canard. I had a plan, I really did! And it would have worked on that big ... metal ... whatsit. But nobody even really listened to me. It's like they don't even know I exist, and the people who do just think I'm one big joke.
[he rests his cheeks on his hands, and gazes down at the town and the forest and all, reluctantly]
Oh, who am I kidding. Maybe I'll just give it up. ... That pond might not be too bad once the snow goes away ...
I guess I'll just sit here and teach myself to quack.
The people of Paradisa can sleep safe tonight, knowing that Darkwing Duck has done his diligent duty, scouring the streets of scum!
[pause. crickets are audible over the journal, somehow, in the dead of winter. CRICKETS]
So where are the parades? The medals? The keys to the city? ... [miserably, his voice slowly winding up to one perfectly-practiced moaning whinge of self-pity] I'd even take a thank-you. But this place is ... this is even worse than St. Canard. I had a plan, I really did! And it would have worked on that big ... metal ... whatsit. But nobody even really listened to me. It's like they don't even know I exist, and the people who do just think I'm one big joke.
[he rests his cheeks on his hands, and gazes down at the town and the forest and all, reluctantly]
Oh, who am I kidding. Maybe I'll just give it up. ... That pond might not be too bad once the snow goes away ...
I guess I'll just sit here and teach myself to quack.