I. A [The best part about outdoor festivals is that you can bring your acoustic guitar and nobody will yell at you and tell you to scram and stop making noise. Thus, Angela is set up at one of the corners of the grounds, on a bench with her guitar strumming along as she sings soft melodic versions of dumb Halloween songs.]
♪Spooky~♪
♪Scaaaary~♪
♪Ske-le-tons~♪
♪Send shivers...down...my spiii-iii-iiiiine~♪
I. B Ah, what fun! One must be very careful with each movement they make––the ring is an extentsion of my physical form...
[Coming from the kind of military family that she comes from, one of the few perks she actually enjoys is that she ended up trained to be wildly good at physical activity without ever actually realizing it. Angela puts on a show by continually, time after time, landing the ring flush on the pole. Each victory gets a pump of the fist and devilish grin at the poor person running that game that is getting destroyed by Angela's leet skillz.]
And...another one! Laser! Guided! Precision! [Someone stop her before she wins all of the prizes...]
II.
You too, huh? [Angela lets out a tiresome laugh as she waves from the other side of the pit of plastic skeletons and rubber spiders and...are thre a few rubber ducks in here...?]
[What on god's green earth could have possibly possessed her to pick "trick"? If someone gives you the option, why? Maybe it was curiosity, but whatever it was, it's landed her in a hell of a predicament. ...And the predicament in question is that she is no longer able to speak correctly. Which in and of itself is utterly terrifying. It has to be related, right? Something to do with the trick...scrambled her brain? Okay, that's even more terrifying.]
One...Four, five six eight nine twenty-two. [Wait, is she...? Angela clears her throat and gives it a second shot.]
Thirteen, nine, two, one one seventy-one twenty-one, thirty forty.
[What fresh hell is this where she can only speak in numbers. Forgive her for trying to get your attention, but she's starting to freak out.]
Two! Two one, three six ninety...Ninety twenty four, eleven...Eleven, one!
no subject
[The best part about outdoor festivals is that you can bring your acoustic guitar and nobody will yell at you and tell you to scram and stop making noise. Thus, Angela is set up at one of the corners of the grounds, on a bench with her guitar strumming along as she sings soft melodic versions of dumb Halloween songs.]
♪Spooky~♪
♪Scaaaary~♪
♪Ske-le-tons~♪
♪Send shivers...down...my spiii-iii-iiiiine~♪
I. B
Ah, what fun! One must be very careful with each movement they make––the ring is an extentsion of my physical form...
[Coming from the kind of military family that she comes from, one of the few perks she actually enjoys is that she ended up trained to be wildly good at physical activity without ever actually realizing it. Angela puts on a show by continually, time after time, landing the ring flush on the pole. Each victory gets a pump of the fist and devilish grin at the poor person running that game that is getting destroyed by Angela's leet skillz.]
And...another one! Laser! Guided! Precision! [Someone stop her before she wins all of the prizes...]
II.
You too, huh? [Angela lets out a tiresome laugh as she waves from the other side of the pit of plastic skeletons and rubber spiders and...are thre a few rubber ducks in here...?]
I have to admit, they certainly had me going with those walls closing in. I didn't know Recollé had the budget for a haunted house like this. Aside from the plastic skeleton. One would think at this point, they would spring for something more lifelike, no? They are kind of cute, actually. Or rather, funny.
[Angela comes forward, offering you her hand.]
Shall we make our grand escape?
Bonus!
[What on god's green earth could have possibly possessed her to pick "trick"? If someone gives you the option, why? Maybe it was curiosity, but whatever it was, it's landed her in a hell of a predicament. ...And the predicament in question is that she is no longer able to speak correctly. Which in and of itself is utterly terrifying. It has to be related, right? Something to do with the trick...scrambled her brain? Okay, that's even more terrifying.]
One...Four, five six eight nine twenty-two. [Wait, is she...? Angela clears her throat and gives it a second shot.]
Thirteen, nine, two, one one seventy-one twenty-one, thirty forty.
[What fresh hell is this where she can only speak in numbers. Forgive her for trying to get your attention, but she's starting to freak out.]
Two! Two one, three six ninety...Ninety twenty four, eleven...Eleven, one!