"Come oooon, come on, comeon... Shit."
You know those days that start off pretty fucking decent, but as time goes by you come to the slowly dawning horrible realization that it was going to be an absolutely shit day? Yeah. Yeah, that's where we're at right now. Nothing made sense in the world and everything was awful. There wasn't any fucking way to salvage this day, not when his 2L orange soda had slipped out of his grip and was now decorating the walls, floor, and soaking into his shoes. To add insult to injury, the soda had fallen on his backpack before bursting, so his fritos that he'd been looking forward to ALL DAY were undoubtedly both crushed and also soaked. Because this was his life and everything sucked.
The only saving grace from this whole disaster was that his DS was in his back pocket, therefore safe from the splash zone, and he'd left his laptop at home in favor of creating maximum chip-toting capacity. Not that that capacity was doing him any favors at the moment.
In obvious distress about aforementioned soda and chips, Axel reached up one hand to tug the curls at the top of his head in frustration, only to freak out even more because he'd somehow missed the fact that there was soda all over his hands and now it was in his fucking hair. The hair that he'd spent hours in a chair getting fixed up just this morning. He'd nearly cried when he'd finally seen the really awesome fade that still left his natural hair a bit long on the top, but now said hair was going to be sticky and smell like artificial citrus because he was an idiot.
He did not cry in that chair and he was not going to cry now, god DAMN it.
Axel finally managed to shove his keys (the keys which had started this whole mess in the first place by making him practice juggling with a 2 liter soda bottle) into the door of his shitty apartment. He had to shove his shoulder into it and throw all the surprisingly considerable weight his 5'9'' frame could muster to finally get the damned thing open. Somehow managing not to faceplant on the floor when the door gave way, he stumbled into his apartment and out again with some dishrags that probably used to be clothing before they became too ripped to be aesthetically mangled. Tossing those on the artificially orange puddle decorating the hallway, he scooped up his backpack and stomped into the kitchen to toss that in the sink.
His apartment was small and shitty. But that was okay, because the landlord didn't ask question about the legality of him living here to begin with. It consisted of a kitchen that was part of a tiny living and dining space that was part of his bedroom that had just one door leading to the smallest bathroom a grown man could reasonably fit inside of. The majority of the space was taken up by a disproportionately huge desk containing three monitors hooked up to his baby, his pride and joy, his beloved computer he'd build his own very self. In an ideal world, he'd be booting up his baby right now and logging in to check and see if anyone was up for running some old content on his favorite questionable MMO RPG, but he didn't dare approach his most prized possession when he was tainted by sticky sweetness that'd be IMPOSSIBLE to clean off his keyboard later.
All-in-all, it took about 10 minutes until the hallway was clean enough that his landlord wouldn't bitch at him about the soda and his backpack was cleaned and clear of both chips and soda. He was down to two crushed bags of chips and four cans of monster from his shop run. Unfortunately, none of the soda had survived, but maybe that was a good thing. He'd probably never be able to look at orange soda the same way again after this.
The (sadly) crushed chips ended up tossed halfheartedly in the direction of his computer rig while the monsters achieved places of high honor in his mini fridge next to his bed. Once those essential responsibilities were accomplished, he shed his band hoodie and artfully ripped jeans to hop in the shower to either drown himself or remove all evidence of his previous blunders from his person. Probably the latter, but given his day thus far, the former wasn't out of the question.
You know those days that start off pretty fucking decent, but as time goes by you come to the slowly dawning horrible realization that it was going to be an absolutely shit day? Yeah. Yeah, that's where we're at right now. Nothing made sense in the world and everything was awful. There wasn't any fucking way to salvage this day, not when his 2L orange soda had slipped out of his grip and was now decorating the walls, floor, and soaking into his shoes. To add insult to injury, the soda had fallen on his backpack before bursting, so his fritos that he'd been looking forward to ALL DAY were undoubtedly both crushed and also soaked. Because this was his life and everything sucked.
The only saving grace from this whole disaster was that his DS was in his back pocket, therefore safe from the splash zone, and he'd left his laptop at home in favor of creating maximum chip-toting capacity. Not that that capacity was doing him any favors at the moment.
In obvious distress about aforementioned soda and chips, Axel reached up one hand to tug the curls at the top of his head in frustration, only to freak out even more because he'd somehow missed the fact that there was soda all over his hands and now it was in his fucking hair. The hair that he'd spent hours in a chair getting fixed up just this morning. He'd nearly cried when he'd finally seen the really awesome fade that still left his natural hair a bit long on the top, but now said hair was going to be sticky and smell like artificial citrus because he was an idiot.
He did not cry in that chair and he was not going to cry now, god DAMN it.
Axel finally managed to shove his keys (the keys which had started this whole mess in the first place by making him practice juggling with a 2 liter soda bottle) into the door of his shitty apartment. He had to shove his shoulder into it and throw all the surprisingly considerable weight his 5'9'' frame could muster to finally get the damned thing open. Somehow managing not to faceplant on the floor when the door gave way, he stumbled into his apartment and out again with some dishrags that probably used to be clothing before they became too ripped to be aesthetically mangled. Tossing those on the artificially orange puddle decorating the hallway, he scooped up his backpack and stomped into the kitchen to toss that in the sink.
His apartment was small and shitty. But that was okay, because the landlord didn't ask question about the legality of him living here to begin with. It consisted of a kitchen that was part of a tiny living and dining space that was part of his bedroom that had just one door leading to the smallest bathroom a grown man could reasonably fit inside of. The majority of the space was taken up by a disproportionately huge desk containing three monitors hooked up to his baby, his pride and joy, his beloved computer he'd build his own very self. In an ideal world, he'd be booting up his baby right now and logging in to check and see if anyone was up for running some old content on his favorite questionable MMO RPG, but he didn't dare approach his most prized possession when he was tainted by sticky sweetness that'd be IMPOSSIBLE to clean off his keyboard later.
All-in-all, it took about 10 minutes until the hallway was clean enough that his landlord wouldn't bitch at him about the soda and his backpack was cleaned and clear of both chips and soda. He was down to two crushed bags of chips and four cans of monster from his shop run. Unfortunately, none of the soda had survived, but maybe that was a good thing. He'd probably never be able to look at orange soda the same way again after this.
The (sadly) crushed chips ended up tossed halfheartedly in the direction of his computer rig while the monsters achieved places of high honor in his mini fridge next to his bed. Once those essential responsibilities were accomplished, he shed his band hoodie and artfully ripped jeans to hop in the shower to either drown himself or remove all evidence of his previous blunders from his person. Probably the latter, but given his day thus far, the former wasn't out of the question.
The following 3 users Like skiesofpurple's post: Blade, danixiewrites, SolitareLee
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Pooch Poaching [Closed] - by skiesofpurple - 03-18-2017, 03:35 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-18-2017, 03:35 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-18-2017, 04:46 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017, 03:58 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 05:13 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017, 01:17 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 05:12 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017, 06:12 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 06:39 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017, 07:20 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 07:44 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017, 08:37 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 09:05 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017, 09:30 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 09:51 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017, 10:10 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 10:29 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-19-2017, 10:56 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-19-2017, 11:22 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-20-2017, 12:02 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-20-2017, 12:40 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-20-2017, 01:16 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-20-2017, 01:39 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-20-2017, 02:15 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 03-20-2017, 02:52 AM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by skiesofpurple - 03-25-2017, 08:34 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching - by Blade - 04-03-2017, 08:25 PM
RE: Pooch Poaching [Closed] - by skiesofpurple - 04-12-2017, 08:05 PM