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Post by Basil Lochlan Holmes on Mar 9, 2010 20:28:57 GMT -5
 tell me what you think tell me what you know[/font][/i] DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THERE COULD BE AN EVER AFTER?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He was going to cry from overwhelming happiness. He could feel his eyes welling up, and his nose was getting that horrendously stuffy feeling that he hated so much. He had to keep his composure. Poor Mrs. Judson had no way to realize that she had just handed him what would prove to make his day infinitely better than it had been thus far.
Thus far, you see, entitled quite a lot. Basil valued days as the time you spent between periods of sleep. Whether the sun rose or sank meant nothing to him besides the necessity to flick on a lamp or two. So his day was now on it's forty-third hour. His hair was flying every which way, his gray-green eyes were enveloped by dark, bruised, tired skin, and the smile he had on his face was something children had nightmares of.
So many things had gone wrong today. His "day" had started at eight fifty-three two revolutions of the Earth ago. He had fallen asleep in the university, absolutely dead to the world, and as a result he had fouled up two potential experiments and had gained a nasty acid scar on his elbow. Not only that, but he had awoken in the middle of an early morning chemistry class; and being unwilling to draw attention to himself, he had endured the presence of driveling university brats for two hours. He had then been forced to explain, in detail, a chemical process that was occurring within their assigned beaker to his unlikely partner. He was thoroughly certain her head had been filled with rocks and fieldmice, for there surely wasn't a grain of intelligence therein.
Upon returning to his apartment, Basil had realized that his least favorite time of the month had arrived: The rent was due and he seemed to have once again found a way to squander what little funds he had on adding to his collection of useless paraphernalia. He then realized that his electric guitar had decided to stop working, and his violin- his precious, sacred violin had gained a new scratch from God knows where.
All in all, by the time Mrs. Judson had called him downstairs, Basil really had been a wreck. He'd taken a position on the sofa, with his legs strewn over the arm of it, wiling away the hours with a cheap cigarette between his lips and a depressing melody upon his fiddle.
But now... now things had looked up tremendously! Oh, so tremendously! Basil couldn't help but do an unsightly dance on the stairway, holding the package above his head in victory. "Mrs. Judson, you are perfectly irreplaceable!" He whipped out the check he had just received for his services in a very delicate case, and practically flung it at her. "Rent, my good woman!"
"My goodness, Mr Basil, whatever's got you in such a fine mood this afternoon?"
In an obscure mixture of manners and familiarity, the older woman had taken almost instantly to affectionately calling him 'Mister Basil'. Four years later, it hadn't changed much. Nevertheless, he laughed and leaped energetically over the banister, dropping four feet to the ground floor to Mrs. Judson's alarmed shriek. "It's a beautiful day! The birds! The uh... air!" He waved his hand dismissively.
Basil was rather offended when she started laughing at him, and he held his parcel tighter to his chest. "Why, I hadn't the slightest clue you had a sweet tooth!" Oh lord... now it was going to leak out, wasn't it?
He made an immediate shushing noise, so urgent that she obeyed and fell instantly into silence. "I prefer to think of it as an appreciation for sugar, and I shall be most grateful if you would take one of these and forget this conversation ever took place."
"No, no, dear. I'm not one for sweets. Besides, you shouldn't bribe people like that- it's rude."
Basil looked at her with utter indignity and snapped his magical gift shut, turning on his heel and approaching the front door. Didn't like sweets... who the devil didn't like sugar? Whoever they were, they were certainly not human! To think he had wasted generosity on such... "It's only bribing if you accept, Mrs Judson. Anyway, I shall be back before eight. Good afternoon!"
He snapped the door shut and strode purposefully down the street. He knew exactly where he wanted to go, and his legs led him blindly around twists, turns and obscure little shortcuts. All the while, Basil occupied himself with his treats, looking for all intensive purposes like the cat who had gotten the cream. He was standing perfectly straight, as was his fashion, and at just a hair over six feet, he was neither exceptionally tall nor exceptionally short.
A cool gust of autumn wind drove him to adjust his scarf, tightening it around his neck as the breeze lifted his worn green jacket away from the pleasant plum dress shirt he was boasting. It was getting later in the year, but it was still delightfully warm- very unlike what England would have been at this time. He took some sliver of amusement from the fact that, even years later, everything came back to his home country.
The entrance of the park, as always, encouraged Basil to walk faster, and only a few feet into the wonderfully lush area he walked off the beaten path and fell unceremoniously under his personal favorite tree. The grand oak provided a glorious respite from the fall sun, and left Basil with plenty of time to open his package at last.
The collection of rock candy appealed to his eyes immediately. Though of remarkably simple make(it was, after all, simply large crystals of sugar formed on and around a wooden stick), the aroma of the different flavors was enough to urge him to pick out a yellow sweet- lemon- and lay back, letting it melt in his mouth as he watched the early afternoon traffic of the park.
A past client of his, who owned one of the small candy shops in Walten City, hadn't had sufficient funds to cover Basil's typical cost of investigation. Though the young detective had assured him that it was of absolutely no consequence, and the intriguing case was reward enough, the portly man had vowed to do something about the situation.
Hence a substantial quantity of rock candy, all for him, and all of which would most likely be ravenously inhaled by the end of the day.
Basil leaned back at last, letting his head rest against the bark of the tree as he deliberated all the possible meanings of "life is good"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MUSIC PLAYING: Trans-Siberian Orchestraaa STATUS OF POST: Finished, duh THREAD TEMPLATE: GOES TO BRIE'S SONG?! AT CAUTION [/center] |
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Post by Stanley Milkovich on Mar 10, 2010 0:17:57 GMT -5
 "Ice cream."
A soft growl rumbled in the young man's throat. A lanky, dirty figure was lurking over the ice cream cart, his dark eyes searching each flavor for a moment before looking up at the tender. Decisions...decisions...dammit...decisions. "Ice cream..." he said through his gritted teeth again, opening and clenching his hands into fists over and over as he went through the mental trauma of thinking too hard.
"mango...pineapple...vanilla...rocky road...goddammit."
A facial twitch. So subtle. Under the eye. Twitch. Twitch. The young man turned his attention to the fellow attending the cart. Staring...staring at him. Why are you looking at me that way? he hissed in his mind. You pretentious prick...stop staring at me... The man felt his fingernails beginning to dig into the skin of his palm. Deeper, deeper, deep enough to cut. Deep enough bleed. He glanced down at his trembling fists. Jesus... he was letting himself getting this worked up about ice cream. Frozen, sweetened crack. Well, might as well had been crack. The frozen treat was just as good and addicting as crack. Unfair. It was so unfair. Why did they have to make this so damn difficult?!
Stanley Milkovich took in a soft inhale, closing his eyes for only a moment before turning his attention back at the man behind the cart. "Man...you're makin' my life tough here." he tried to laugh. He tried. Alas, it only came out as a breathless chuckle. Control your temper, fight those violent urges. Oh yes, Stanley wanted to flip the cart from the moment he stepped up. Too many choices. Too many goddamn fucking choices. If only he could pick a flavor to his leisure... but now there was a line forming behind him... the man behind the cart was giving him a weird look... and he just wanted to throw something. Oh well, it's fine. Relax.
"Ah...I will have...oreo."
"Ya mean cookies n' cream?"
The man laughed. Stanley was not as amused.
"....Just give me the fucking ice cream."
The man blinked and stared at him in silence, considering whether to serve him or not. All Stanley had to do was shoot him a glare. A glare that... for a moment... appeared hazardous to anyone's health. But it soon faded into a little, joking grin. That's right, take the bait. I'm smilin' for ya. Charming, wasn't he? The man held out scoop in a waffle cone, and Stanley took it with a gracious nod. He couldn't help himself much longer. The young man shoved his hand into his pocket to grab a fist-full of exact change and proceeded to toss the coins at his stomach with full-force. He bursted into maniacal giggles as the coins bounced off his bulging belly and quickly turned on his heels before he could get yelled at by anyone. hehehehhehe...! ..serves him right.
Now...time to look for the perfect place to enjoy his ice cream.
He spotted it, not far off. An impressive oak tree that casted a large, comfy-looking shadow. Perfect shade, perfect stature, perfect perfect perfect! Stanley could hardly contain himself as he began to shuffle over. He was trying not to run and look like a retarded moron skipping his way over to the old tree. Ready, ready! He was so ready!
...Wait...
...what the fuck?
As soon as he neared the tree, another fellow took a seat.
IN HIS SPOT!?
Are you fucking kidding me...? He thought as he stood about a foot away from the man who had stolen his perfect spot. The older man had his head rested against the tree as he seemed to be enjoying his own sugary treat. What the hell...WHAT THE HELL?! Stanley felt his foot snap against the ground into a stomp, exasperated and shocked at this bastard who had so thoughtlessly taken his own little slice of paradise! Okay, okay. Keep it cool, Stanley.
He approached the man leaning against the tree.
"Excuse...me..." he growled with forced politeness. "But...I was about to ... sit there." What would he do? He'd move right...? Surely Stanley was intimidating enough...right? Stanley thought this over in his head. It wasn't easy to think when you're brain was so clouded with RAGE. The boy's eye twitched once again, it was the only physical hint he'd be giving to this old geezer that he did NOT WANT HIM THERE. He tried to smile, he really did, but his lips only trembled. Instead of smiling he looked like he was about to suffer from an aneurysm.
word count» 781
lyrics» such horrible things - creature feature
notes» couldn't resist joining \•U•/
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Post by Basil Lochlan Holmes on Mar 10, 2010 9:38:58 GMT -5
tell me what you think tell me what you know [/font][/i] DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THERE COULD BE AN EVER AFTER?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Green, blue, red? Maybe another yellow? Basil gazed down at his possible selections, overwhelmed by the many possible choices. He could possibly just eat them all at once, but further observation led him to believe that would be unbelievably messy, and he would then have to pursue a restroom in order to tidy up, which also meant leaving his current comfortable position.
So, mastering his own desire to just eat it all at once, Basil gingerly picked up a red sweet(cherry) and popped it into his mouth. A rather rare and remarkably peaceful grin spread over his face, and for a moment he was quite content.
Until, of course, he noticed the strange individual that was standing a ways away, looking at him with an impressive amount of sheer anger. Basil blinked several times, for once certain that he had done absolutely nothing to deserve the petulant glaring. He would remember bumping into someone like that. And he most certainly had not. Not in recent memory, anyway.
His confused expression descended rapidly into condescending humor when the boy approached. Basil shifted his weight just slightly on the grass, propping an elbow on one of his knees as he looked up at the newcomer with such utter disinterest it was practically an insult in itself, nevermind the smallest smirk on his lips that hinted Basil's amusement at the situation.
He was going to sit here?
He looked left and right, observing the other, equally impressive trees that were fine for sitting beneath, and returned his gaze to the odd teen. His expression clearly projected "you can't be serious", and eventually he shrugged languidly. "I can hardly understand why you're so upset," Basil stated smoothly. "I am certain you can find adequate shade elsewhere. This is not the only oak tree in existence, I assure you."
He chewed on a bit of stubborn candy before deigning to speak again. "As the saying goes: The early bird gets the worm." He waved one of his hands dismissively. "Unless you have something productive to say that I don't know already, I kindly request that you move. You are blocking my view, sir."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MUSIC PLAYING: Pachelbel's Canon in D STATUS OF POST: Finished, duh THREAD TEMPLATE: GOES TO BRIE'S SONG?! AT CAUTION [/center] |
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Post by Stanley Milkovich on Mar 10, 2010 12:33:00 GMT -5
Wipe that stupid grin off your face... Stanley snarled mentally. This pompous asshole was looking at him like he was some kind of alien. He hated it when people gave him weird looks, but this guy took the gold. That obnoxious 'I'm better than you' smirk. How the hell was he doing that? He could so smoothly and silently insult him... it was like... nemesis status. His eye twitched again, his hands clenched. Keep calm... keep calm... "Yeah...I...know"
"But I like this...spot...Isawitfirst." Gosh, he almost sounded nervous. The young man brought his hands up together and began to drum his fingers against each other as he gingerly held his ice cream cone between them. Fidget, fidget. Was he seriously intimidated by the man? No fucking way would he be! He growled again to himself, stepping up a bit. Early bird gets the worm huh?
"And...second mouse gets cheese." HA HA! Got you, old man! Stanley had a sudden fit of giggles before going quiet, his amused smile quickly shriveling into a frown once again. Yeah, good comeback but way to look like an idiot delivering it, he thought to himself. Stanley's train of thought usually consisted of anger, destructive thoughts, insults, but mostly self-loathing. How come he couldn't be as prim and proper as this arrogant bastard?
"And I...will kindly... ask you to get the hell out...of my spot...that I saw first... or scoot the hell over... because I ain't...gonna give it up that easy..." Stanley felt the grip around his waffle cone tighten and even begin to crack a bit. Control your temper. This guy seems reasonable - if anything, only trapped in the 1920s. At least he was addressing Stanley in a somewhat polite manner, Stanley couldn't hate him for that, and for that reason he wouldn't punch his lights out. No, no... get past that Stanley, no punching people's lights outs. The teen released a shaky, angry sigh and proceeded to get within 0 proximity of the man and sit down flat next to him, not seeming to care that the cloth of their shirts were touching.
Stubborn brat, he was. Stanley looked absentmindedly at his ice cream and slowly brought it to his mouth, licking it delicately as cleanly as he could. For some reason he felt the need to better himself around this man... and it pissed him off something awful. "Stanley." he muttered. Damn himself for admiring those as stubborn as he is. He was only bracing himself for either getting hit by the guy or waiting for him to get up and move. The boy gave Basil a sideways glance, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. Stay. I dare ya. Impress me.
To add to the fun Stanley lifted and arm back behind his head while he leant against he tiny half of the tree, not seeming to care if his bent elbow 'accidentally' bumped Basil in the head. Hehehhheheh! Take that! He's gotta move now. Would he? What would happen if he didn't? For some reason Stanley's insides were curling with delight and curiosity. What would Mr. Holmes do?
word count»536
lyrics» such horrible things - creature feature
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Post by Basil Lochlan Holmes on Mar 10, 2010 14:07:17 GMT -5
tell me what you think tell me what you know [/font][/i] DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THERE COULD BE AN EVER AFTER?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This was not going according to plan. Basil glowered unpleasantly at the idiot that was still standing there, and suddenly his candy didn't taste as good. Great, now it was contaminated with stupidity. It was probably going to lead to a sharp decline of braincells.
"You... saw it first?" Basil repeated slowly, holding back from either laughing hysterically or bursting into an irritated rant about the right of individuals to sit under trees. "Well, very good. I applaud your ability to spot fifty-foot oaks from a distance. Unfortunately, I fail to see how your admirable optical skills help to establish this spot as your's." In other words? Back the hell off. This grass is mine.
Really, Basil knew that it wasn't an issue for him to get up and move on to greener pastures- literally. The only thing cementing him in place was his deplorable pride. Some young upstart wasn't going to budge him, and that was final. He had gotten here first. "While I commend your extensive," Insert sarcastic eyeroll here, "knowledge of proverbs, I still don't think I'll be bothered to move." His eyes narrowed when Skippy still didn't budge, and he sighed dramatically.
Now, hold on one minute! That sounded like a challenge! Who the blazes was this brat to try and make him move! That just confirmed what Basil already knew; teenagers deserved to be lined up and shot, or tucked away until they matured. His eyes were practically slits when that incorrigible moron sat down. Close enough for their arms to be brushing! Now Basil would have to spend an hour in the shower to remove the traces of idiotic-youth from himself!
Still, he felt a grudging amount of respect, even though he refused to do any more than shuffle over a tiny bit to provide himself with a personal bubble again. Stanley, was it? Well Stanley was a stupid name to begin with! Only unintelligent Neanderthals were called Stanley! "Ugh... Holmes." He muttered in return. Like hell he was giving this brat his first name. "And if you insist on sitting here, could you at least deign to eat like a civilized human being?" Admittedly, he was a cleaner eater than some people Basil had been forced to speak to, but that didn't mean he couldn't complain anyway.
"Ow!" Basil yelped when an elbow unexpectedly assaulted his head, and he leaned away, holding the affected area gingerly with a vicious scowl. Now this was on a new level. Stanley was going down, whether he liked it or not! But it was going to be a subtle contest- Basil wasn't one to start throwing punches.
So he feigned a tremendous yawn, put his hand over the idiot's head, and dropped the sticky, red sugar treat onto his hair. To add insult to the injury, and to make sure it really stuck, Basil slapped his hand onto Stanley's head, cementing the candy there before gasping dramatically.
"Oh, I am ever so sorry! I can't imagine how that happened!" His lips curled into a decidedly nasty smile, insulting in it's absolute falsity. "Goodness, I suppose you should go wash that out now, Stanley."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MUSIC PLAYING: Pachelbel's Canon in D STATUS OF POST: Finished, duh THREAD TEMPLATE: GOES TO BRIE'S SONG?! AT CAUTION [/center] |
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Post by Stanley Milkovich on Mar 10, 2010 15:10:23 GMT -5
"Ungh 'I commuhnd yaurh extunsuve no-ludge of pruhverbs'" Stanley mocked him with his eyes rolled up to the back of his head while his tongue was sticking out. He huffed a gasping laugh at him and licked more at his ice cream. What was he some kind of English professor or some shit? It didn't matter much to Stanley, he wasn't going to be able to stay at the University for much long. After being on Academic Probation and not really giving too much of a shit about school he was bound to be kicked out. It depressed him, but hell... he didn't deserve the education. "Holmes. A pleasure to meet you." he stated in a similar sarcastic tone to Basil's.
The brat bit his lip as Holmes pointed out his eating habit. He thought he was being pretty good about it! Instead of deciding to mock him again he took a big bite out of his ice cream and turned towards him, opening his mouth to show the melting goop inside. "BLEHHH!" he laughed with his mouthful of ice cream open and turned back to his cone. Fuck! Brainfreeze. Well he guess it served him right. He was still giggling over smacking him in the head with his elbow. "Oops." he muttered as he ate his ice cream with his amusing company.
And then suddenly... a thump on his head. Stanley's eyes shot open, looking first at Basil - then the position of his hand - and then above his head. "AH! FUCK!" Stanley cursed and threw his hand over his head to feel what the HELL was just smacked against his skull and IN HIS HAIR. Sharp... smooth... he pulled his hand down to see the red dye left behind by the crystals and Basil's saliva.
...
"Oh, HELL NO!" Stanley shrieked. HIS HAIR! Ruined! "GODDAMMIT I DIDN'T EVEN HIT YOU THAT HARD!" he exclaimed in protest and utter indignation. IT WAS ON. Stanley took hold of his half-eaten ice cream cone and threw his arm up in one smooth uppercut, intent on smushing the melting treat right smack-dab in the middle of his face. He aimed for the eyes, nose, and forehead. THAT WOULD TEACH HIM!
"Looks like you got your own washin' to do, Sherlock." He snickered as he pulled his hand away from the creamy mess.
word count»398
lyrics» such horrible things - creature feature
ooc» omg Jack you have no idea how hard that post made me laugh. "teenagers deserved to be lined up and shot" for some reason just killed me! XD
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Post by Basil Lochlan Holmes on Mar 10, 2010 16:01:28 GMT -5
tell me what you think tell me what you know [/font][/i] DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THERE COULD BE AN EVER AFTER?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Please leave. Leave. Please.
God dammit all! He was still there!
Basil frowned to himself, sparing the brat an unhappy glance. "You were clearly raised in the wild." He observed nastily, though that wasn't at all true. He assumed, at first guess, that whoever Stanley was, he had spent time either in a dysfunctional family situation, or in foster care. Nothing better explained his behavior, which was almost desperately screaming for attention of any kind. It was a loathsome way of life, and Basil might have been inclined to feel some sympathy, had the idiot... well... not been an idiot.
"The pleasure is all your's." He snapped, growing tired already of the witless banter. He turned back to his box of goodies, though he pulled a bottle of water out of his jacket before continuing. He might not have often resorted to such human necessities as food and drink, but Basil was always prepared, in case thirst might strike. It was, after all, harder to ignore than hunger.
He turned back to Stanley just in time to get a beautiful view of melting ice cream in his disgusting, teenage mouth. Basil took the liberty to look briefly affronted, before sneering. "And now I know that your mouth has more purpose than to spew useless drivel. Thank you, Stanley. I'm charmed." He looked at his bottled water and decided immediately that even it was now unappealing to him.
Of course, he gained immediate satisfaction as Stanley screamed like an adolescent girl over his hair. Basil was even brought to laughter as he flailed, though he did an admirable job of hiding it behind his hands. "You, sir, started this entire thing. If you had just taken a seat under another-- WHAT THE DEUCE WAS THAT FOR YOU SLIMY LITTLE CRETIN?!"
Basil had only on two other occasions had an ice cream cone thrown in his face. Once had been his beloved brother Michael in a temper tantrum, and the other had involved a bet and scotch tape. He fell back, away from the disgusting brute of a brat, scrunching up his eyes to avoid getting any foreign contaminants in them. He might have even called it quits then and there, had he not been goaded further still.
'Sherlock'
He loathed that name.
He despised it.
He hoped someone dug up Arthur Conan Doyle and hanged him for it!
And this little cretin had gone and made a joke about it.
Basil's expression cleared to a rather unnervingly blank state as he sat up again, and began wiping away the mess on his face, though cookie crumbles and melting ice cream were still very much apparent. He spared Stanley a long and calculating look, then hummed in thought.
"Good show, Stanley." He said plainly, twisting open his bottled water and pouring it into the plastic box the rest of his candy was in. It was going to be a good cause. "I acted quite unfairly, it seems, and as such I punish myself." He held up the dissolving candy, and the despairingly sticky, multi-colored liquid.
"You see, Stanley... had I known you were going to do that..." Basil's eyes glinted and he lunged forward, aiming the messy concoction at his unlikely adversary's head and shoulders. "I would have done this!"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MUSIC PLAYING: Pachelbel's Canon in D STATUS OF POST: Finished, duh THREAD TEMPLATE: GOES TO BRIE'S SONG?! AT CAUTION [/center] |
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Post by Stanley Milkovich on Mar 10, 2010 17:11:56 GMT -5
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR'?! YOU STUCK YOUR STUPID FUCKING CANDY IN MY HAIR!"
Stanley flicked his wrist to get the melted ice cream off his fingers and huffed, keeping his bottom planted in his spot. No way in hell he'd lose this battle. No way. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms as Basil threw his fit. TCH. He started it! All Stanley did was lightly bap him against the head. But no! BASIL HAD TO GO AND MESS HIS HAIR UP. Stanley reached up for the stick of the rock candy while his eyes were still closed, wincing as he slowly began to try pulling it out. A few roots of his hair were yanked out as he tried taking it out, the rest of the strands just stuck to it like glue. Fuck. FUCK. He growled to himself again. At least he had the final say in this battle. ...At least... he thought so.
Stanley's eyes opened as he turned to Basil as he began creating his concoction with his back turned. He forced himself to look away with a heavy pout, pulling his crossed arms as close as he could to his chest. Well he was admitting he was wrong. A pause followed and Stanley gave a defeated sigh. "No...I'm sorry. I was the jerk I guess. I uhm.. yeah.. I dunno what came over me.. lemme help you clean u--"
SPLASH.
The sticky liquid held Stanley's eyes shut like some crazy rainbow adhesive. He was completely drenched in the stuff. His hands covered his eyes for a moment before setting them back down, and sputtering any of the liquid that got into his mouth. "Hmmm.." he mused, trying to force his eyes open so he could stare at Basil, hiding whatever he was feeling at the moment. Stanley allowed his tongue to loll out of his mouth and lick his lips. "...Tasty." he mused before raising his sticky wet brows at Basil.
"Like I was...saying." Stanley sputtered the liquid out again while trying to get the stuff out of his eyes. "I was...trying to apologize. I was being a dick. Okay? You win." It wasn't in his nature to continue fighting like this. As much as he would have liked to he lacked the motivation and energy... not to mention the tiny slice of respect he had for Basil had somehow solidified somewhere after he feigned an apology. It was a nasty shot, but a brilliant one.
God, Stanley hated losing. But he knew when to stop when he absolutely had to. Now it was just time to pout and sulk in his defeat.At least... He made it look like he was sulking. Neither he or Basil had a reason to stay under the tree any longer...and Stanley hand one last trick up his sleeve.
"Could you at least like... take this out of my hair...?" he grumbled a bit, tugging at the stick again before giving up.
word count» 509
lyrics» such horrible things - creature feature
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Post by Basil Lochlan Holmes on Mar 10, 2010 18:31:11 GMT -5
tell me what you think tell me what you know [/font][/i] DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THERE COULD BE AN EVER AFTER?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
If there was anything Basil Holmes could be accused of, it would be taking things too damn far. He was so wrapped up in his own head and plans, and petty revenge schemes, that he didn't acknowledge when things should, would, or could have been stopped. Instead, his brain shot into action and he plotted all the possible outcomes his actions could have, besides the logical solution of giving up and surrendering.
His ego had been stoked by this entire encounter, and it had become infuriatingly personal rapidly. He spent much of his time at a distance; as a cold, mechanized creature with no compassion. Yet all it took was the slightest scent of a challenge to destroy the facade and to allow Basil's overwhelming arrogance to take control.
He didn't even realize Stanley's attempt to apologize before he exacted his revenge, and he found it lacking. There was no screaming fit, or anger that made him feel justified. In fact, as seconds ticked by, Basil began to feel remarkably... dare he say it... stupid. His logical side quickly returned, shrieking that the whole episode should have ended with an ice cream cone to the nose. He should have been the bigger person and moved on. Gotten over the ruffled feathers.
Impulsive. That's what his parents had called him. Basil was always the impulsive one, the one that took unnecessary risks for the sake of curiosity. The one that spoke without thinking. He was now known as the logical one. The unshakable detective.
And here he was in this childish situation.
Disgraceful.
"Don't apologize." He snapped unhappily, making a face when some more melted ice cream dripped off the end of his nose. "I should have acted my own age. I'm terrible sorry." He held up a finger, a signal for Stanley to wait a moment, and darted across the walking trail to one of the strategically placed water fountains. He would suck up his irritation for the time being, at least to make amends.
He filled his water bottle up to the brim and trotted back, looking at the mess of sugary on the brat's head. It was a relief to know that it wasn't glue or some more permanent substance. Sugar was easy to get out.
So, with more patience than he had shown in the last ten minutes, Basil poured a small amount of water over the rock candy, then took a moment to tug at the stick. When it remained stuck, he added more water, until gradually it came free. He held it up with an exclamation of triumph, and sat back down. "Rock candy is a remarkably simple formula. It's just sugar crystals that were left in a solution for a week, which allowed them to grow into the monoclinic crystals you have wedged in your hair. Hence, a hot shower will successfully remove... er... the rest of it." Now that he looked, Basil couldn't decide if he felt bad or triumphant. Certainly his last attack had hit it's mark tremendously well.
"I really am quite sorry. I didn't realize it would make this much of a mess." Basil backed away after enjoying the view of the disaster once last time. "The prize is your's, Stanley. I have no desire to fight over any more trees - at least, not while I have ice cream fermenting in my nostrils."
Well now it felt awkward. Social interaction was Basil's bane in life. Was he supposed to walk away? Apologize again? Say something else? "Ah... uh... well... I suggest you go home. If you don't shower soon it's going to be a bother to get out. I assume you live in foster care?"
Oh damn, had he actually voiced his suspicions? Basil turned pink for a moment and turned away abruptly. "Right then. Er... good day... I guess..." He bent to pick up the sticky box his treats had been in, wondering vaguely what he could do with himself for the rest of the day.
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Post by Stanley Milkovich on Mar 10, 2010 21:20:35 GMT -5
What..? Really..? He was really going to help him? After all he did? Stanley was planning to wipe his face on his shirt or something so he'd get away with it. However this strange gesture of kindness made any rage or thoughts of revenge melt away. The lad peered up at Basil, tensing at the cold of the water as he delicately removed the rock candy from his hair. He was ACTUALLY helping him. Despite everything he did, the little monster he was, Basil still helped him. Stanley had to look back down for a moment to hide whatever admiring look he had in his eyes as he growled softly to himself. "No, man. Heh. Taking this spot wouldn't feel right." he grumbled. Dammit. DAMMIT. It would have been so much easier if he had just STAYED a pompous asshole. Hell he was still full of himself but he still had the decency to help the kid out. Dammit, nothing about this would feel right or satisfying anymore if he were to fight back. He could only look back up at him with his big, pathetic eyes.
Stanley flinched as Basil said something about a Foster Care. Then he started walking it off like he had said nothing. The teen sat straight up, puffing his chest with a frustrated frown. "Brilliant deduction." he stated with a strange rumble in his throat. It was something animalistic and between another growl or purr. He had been quite beastly, hadn't he? "No no no, get back here." Stanley demanded in a cool tone, snapping his fingers and pointing at the spot next to him before scooting over to give him more space than he had this time. "Don't run away, Holmes. I don't bite." he snickered, despite being covered in a sticky mess. They both were, but Stanley wouldn't let his prey run off that easily. Not after the trauma they had put each other through. "How the hell did you know that I'm from a Foster Home? Well I used to be... now I live by myself."
word count» 352
lyrics» such horrible things - creature feature
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Post by Basil Lochlan Holmes on Mar 11, 2010 13:35:26 GMT -5
tell me what you think tell me what you know [/font][/i] DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THERE COULD BE AN EVER AFTER?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
What in the name of God was the brat looking at?
Basil fought to keep his expression neutral as he picked the candy stick out of Stanley's hair. He made a pointed effort to pretend he didn't notice the distinctly awkward... uncomfortable... constant... staring when he was done, going so far as the examine the cloud formations. He didn't like being looked at. It made his back tingle, and his fingers got uncomfortably twitchy.
He addressed Stanley lightly after he commented on the matter of winning the prized seat by the tree. "It seems silly to have been reduced to a food fight, only to say you don't want to sit there anymore." Basil said, perhaps a bit harsher than he intended. "Though I suppose cleaning up takes precedence." Which was definitely on his agenda as soon as he got back to his apartment.
Unfortunately, Basil hadn't even collected up the useless plastic box before Stanley was tell him to go back. Great. He looked at the teen rather uncertainly, wondering if he could get out of this whole conversation. With a heavy sigh, he realized it was out of the question and sank back into his spot. "Huh. Fortunately I don't believe even you would reduce to biting." He said immediately, raising one ice-cream-ified eyebrow imperiously. You just throw frozen treats at people.
Basil shook his head to get rid of the thoughts, just in time to catch the question. He rolled his eyes then, wishing he'd just kept his mouth shut. Then he would be able to go home and get showered. "It's really very simple. Your deplorable attitude suggests you have never been the subject of parental attention- at least, not much of it. It also leads one to believe that no one bothered to show you the socially correct way to get attention, hence our prior altercation." He held up his index finger in a superior fashion, falling into his habit of explaining a particularly simple deduction. "Furthermore, the quality of your clothes, as well as hair and other areas that are typically properly presentable, makes me think that you have lived independently and without a great deal of income. Had you been within a proper family, you would never have made it out the door looking as you do now."
Basil then leaned against the tree with a smug expression of self-satisfaction. "These contribute to two reasonable theories: you either have been in foster care, or your family is a dysfunctional one. Given your quick temper and deplorable manner of speech, I deduced that you were in quite a large foster family, wherein there was no one to curb your unwanted behavior. Even a dysfunctional family unit would not allow your sparkling personality to continue unhindered." His smug visage had become positively gleeful by now and he folded his arms smartly.
"Forgive me for saying, but it was quite elementary, my dear Stanley."
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Post by Stanley Milkovich on Mar 11, 2010 19:40:04 GMT -5
Stanley really couldn’t help but grin as Basil said he wouldn’t reduce to biting. Hah. Well at least he didn’t take him for some kind of monster… or just couldn’t see the kind of monster he was… or maybe he did, and just didn’t consider him a monster at all. Whatever it was it comforted him, and made it so that he didn’t want this battle to have to end with his hands around Basil’s neck. As Basil sat back down Stanley kept thinking ‘God, I’m good.’ People always told him he had a way with words. Persuasion. It must have been his… ‘charm’. Heheheheh…
And then Basil had to go and open his mouth, and began to ‘spew drivel’ himself.
Stanley’s dark eyes widened at every word he said.
deplorable attitude.
never been subject to parental attention
quality of your clothes
without a great deal of income
would have never made it out the door looking as you do now
unwanted behavior
dysfunctional family
It was like a sea of sound and the bad only made his way through his ears. The boy clenched his hands with such vigor that they had begun to shake from muscle strain. To distract himself Stanley placed his hands on both sides of his legs and began to dig his fingernails into the soil under him. Each time Basil had said something he DID NOT WANT TO HEAR, he thought about saying something ‘mean’ back. However, the longer he thought about it, the more he realized how much Basil’s words held true. Goddammit. Goddammit… GODDAMMIT. It looked like checkmate. He was right, about everything! DAMMIT.
“Heh..You’re really deserving of the name ‘Holmes’ I guess…” Stanley barely muttered, his voice shaken and angry. He wasn’t angry at Basil, but moreso that he was so easy to figure out within just minutes of knowing him. Well, he asked for it. The boy bared his teeth and began to grind them against eachother to make the bad thoughts go away. DAMMIT. Anger and shame was all he was feeling now… well not to mention sticky from the melted rock candy. Shit… What could he say? WHAT COULD HE SAY? After his mental tug-of-war he turned towards Basil with a sideways grin.
“You forgot ‘totally drop-dead handsome’ somewhere in there, though.” he joked, looking back at his messy hands. “Right?” he asked with a quirked brow. No, it wasn’t a method of flirtation. He just had to hear something positive or reinforcing. Besides it was his nature to boast about how handsome he was. Placing someone else in a metaphorical stranglehold and having them say it was all the more satisfying. At this point he really wouldn't care what Basil said. Making him uncomfortable was even more fun than forcing him to admit he was a heart-throb (no matter how untrue that may be).
word count» 460
lyrics» such horrible things - creature feature
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Post by Basil Lochlan Holmes on Mar 12, 2010 8:31:55 GMT -5
tell me what you think tell me what you know [/font][/i] DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THERE COULD BE AN EVER AFTER?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It came as a surprise to Basil that he was able to immediately realize his error. In this case, the error was in continuing to talk when it was becoming rather obvious that his unlikely companion didn't like the direction they were taking. A person more in tune to the suffering of others might have stopped abruptly and apologized, but Basil only adopted an expression of mild curiosity.
He wanted to knock himself out when Stanley compared him again to that utterly ridiculous character. His lips curled into an unhappy sneer, "I assure you I would much rather have any other name." He spared Stanley a glance. "And you needn't look so much like you're having an aneurysm, my dear boy. I don't doubt that I am the only person in this city that could deduce your life story from a few personality traits and split ends."
Basil sighed and made to rub his nose, until, of course, he remembered the congealing cream and instead nervously rubbed his fingers together. Oh, he loathed anything besides a state of personal cleanliness! He might have sported acid-burnt hands and arms, and numerous questionable scars, but for all his short comings in his state of health, Basil reveled in being clean.
His mental exercise was cut off when Stanley deigned him with speech again, though the statement made Basil do a double-take at him edgily. "Not quite what I would say," Basil announced coolly. "Though I'm not the best one to judge good looks, I'm afraid." His lips cracked into a hesitant smirk. "I daresay you have a talent for commanding respect, in any case. Which is more important than the fact that I very much wish I could wash your mouth out with soap."
Basil looked at him awkwardly for a few moments, and made to stand up again. He had no interest in staying here and trying to think up compliments to appease a parentless brat like this. It was certainly not in his agenda of things to do. "Well, my dear Stanley, whether you choose to claim this tree or not, I, for one, fully intend to go home and shower." He hesitated for a lengthy period, and felt like shooting himself for his next words.
"If you don't have access to hot water nearby, you're..." A heavy, miserable sigh broke his speech. "I suppose you're welcome to come." Oh, but what if he got a client and this little urchin was there? And his Stradivarius! What if the brat touched his Stradivarius?! A violin worth... worth... and he was inviting this little demon anywhere near it?!
That was it. When he got a shower, wrote his will, and sent an angry letter to Michael listing, in alphabetical order, all the things he loathed about him, Basil was checking himself into an institution.
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Post by Stanley Milkovich on Mar 13, 2010 2:21:34 GMT -5
Well once again Basil read him like a book. An open book with a size 10 font. To display his disturbance the lower part of his eye twitched again and glanced at his dirty sticky hands. He chuckled as Stanley he had a talent for demanding respect and going off about how he wishes he could wash out his mouth with soap. ”Heh…okay, Dad” he grumbled in a playful tone. Nothing he hadn’t heard before. His foster parents and elders used to give him shit about his dirty mouth too, so it was of no surprise. Stanley frowned again before turning look back at him. There was no point of staying under the tree.
Stanley felt a little guilty for what he did to the poor guy. Then he remembered that Basil started the food fight. So he didn’t feel that bad. If he hadn’t smushed the candy in his hair it wouldn’t have gotten to the point where Basil would have needed a shower. So hah! Stanley snickered and crossed his arms.
“Ha-uh..wha?” he blurted once Holmes offered up a shower. A free shower? What was he thinking? Its not like he had a change of clothes he carried around with him at all times. Why was he offering this. Stanley quirked a brow before laughing a bit. “Damn. After all of this you’re offering me that?” If he were to let him leave then and there he’d probably lose someone he had fully learnt to respect. Even if it wasn’t mutual, it was sure something to behold. A good heart…man. It was rare that Stanley was given such generosity. He wasn’t going to go because of his lack of water but because of how much he felt like he’d miss out on something if he didn’t. “Thanks… yeah. I’ll take you up on that. Won’t throw anymore food at you, promise. Won’t stay long either.” he began to spew little scrambled promises to Basil before standing and standing on his toes in excitement. He turned on his heels and offered him a sticky red hand.
“Yanno what Holmes…? You’re alright.”
Dunno what you’ve been smoking to let me in your home… but you’re alright.
word count» 387
lyrics» such horrible things - creature feature
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Post by Basil Lochlan Holmes on Mar 13, 2010 11:30:16 GMT -5
tell me what you think tell me what you know [/font][/i] DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THERE COULD BE AN EVER AFTER?- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Impromptu fits of morality were going to be his downfall someday. Basil knew it. He was going to eventually find himself out of a job and a home because he decided to be a nice person. People always took advantage of kindness; it was the plague of the modern world. Perhaps as little as twenty years ago, kindness had been a virtue, but nowadays you didn't get far without stepping on toes and fighting for what you had.
Usually he was a master at being... well... a complete ass. Basil had a knack for shutting off that part of one's mind that liked to scream about the golden rule again and again. Do unto other what you would have done unto you, or something like that. Frankly it didn't apply to him. When he entered his mechanized mindset, such foolishness as kindness no longer applied.
And yet, here he was, being a perfectly friendly gentleman to this cretin of a teen that had managed to get what felt like a liter of ice cream up his nose. It was a strange world, wasn't it? "I was raised a gentleman, and it would go against twenty years of my parent's hard work if I didn't invite you to clean up." Basil confessed blandly, shifting from foot to foot, feeling quite awkward. Usually, he only invited people to his lodgings when they had a distressing case, or some other problem. This felt more akin to a social call.
He looked at Stanley with one eyebrow raised imperiously. It seemed he was not the only one unused to invites of this nature. "Do be quiet, Stanley. You're beginning to sound like a mentally deficient preteen." Basil had no interest in enduring endless blathering as he led this young upstart to his apartment, and so he decided the best thing to do was to clip the whole thing at the bud.
He eyed the extended hand silently for a moment or two, then shook it very quickly indeed. He smiled briefly, "Why thank you Stanley, you're not quite as intolerable as I thought." Abruptly, Basil turned away and began walking. "You will forgive me for saying, but I would like to get home before any more fermentation occurs within my nasal cavity."
He was quite unaware if Stanley might have tried to start a conversation as they walked, for Basil became quite single-minded on the way back to Broker Street. He turned down obscure alleyways and side streets with nary a thought, even leading Stanley over three chain link fences, one of which he had to scramble over a dumpster to reach. It was all a daily routine for Basil, however, and he showed no real strain in leaping over the obstacles.
Aha! Home at last! Basil had his hand on the door before remembering that he actually had company. He twisted around and addressed Stanley for the first time in ten minutes. "Ah, I live on the second floor." He said blandly, wondering if there was something else he ought to say in warning. "Uh... Oh! Mrs. Judson does keep a dog, but Toby is really quite harmless. He's very small." With that he pushed open the door and waved his younger acquaintance in.
Almost at once, Toby the Basset Hound was lumbering into the hall, though one look at the two of them seemed to ward the pup off. Mrs. Judson, on the other hand, gave a shriek of despair. "Mr. Basil! What happened?" She looked at Stanley with an expression of horror, as was her tendency when confronted with anything even remotely messy. "Oh, you poor dear! Mr. Basil, I can only imagine you had something to do with this! First bullet holes in the walls, and chemical concoctions all over the place-- I found something growing in your sitting room today, but I couldn't bring myself to look at it closely. And now you're making a mess of respectable young boys such as this! You should be properly ashamed of yourself, sir!"
Letting Mrs. Judson get into her chastising stride was an almost unforgivable sin, but Basil, for once, didn't bother objecting. He waved a hand forlornly occasionally, and nodded along, but then made for the stairs, shoving Stanley in front of him. "Of course, Mrs. Judson. Dreadfully sorry. Won't happen again. I do believe your biscuits will burn soon if you don't attend to them!" He yanked open the door to his apartment.
"You lend that poor lad some of your clothes so I can wash that dreadful stuff out of his, Mr. Basil!" She hollered, just as he slammed the door shut and glowered at nothing in particular. He abruptly realized that they had successfully reached the upper story of the townhouse, and his posture sank with relief.
The sitting room was a goldmine of interesting objects, with a chemistry set bubbling and frothing on one table, two handguns sitting on the coffee table, and a collection of bullet holes in the wall that spelled the initials V.R. The floor was almost entirely hidden by books and papers, most of which related to his past cases, or the various criminal organizations in America, and his bills were pinned to the wall above his fireplace by a rather menacing looking pocketknife.
Basil walked as far as the sofa and sat down, grabbing up his violin and bow. He glanced at Stanley, feeling less edgy now that he was back in his environment, which smelled strongly of tobacco and chemicals. "If you would like to get a shower first, be my guest. I'll give you some of my old clothes so Mrs. Judson can wash your's. She's quite efficient, it will only take half an hour or so." He suddenly felt rather awkward and played a few soothing notes on the violin. "I do apologize for her outburst. She rather likes to think that all the youths of the world are her ducklings."
Basil played a few bars of Flight of the Bumblebee before deigning to look up again. "Oh, and I would quite appreciate it if you didn't touch anything. Particularly my experiments," He pointed the bow at the chemistry table, "My guns," He pointed at the coffee table. "Or especially my Stradivarius." He played a random note with one eyebrow raised.
"Otherwise, I invite you to make yourself comfortable. I don't have any clients coming in today, so there is certainly no rush on you."
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