02-20-2011, 05:16 PM
OOC: Relaaaax. X3
IC:
Saburo stopped reading the the passage in the book they were interpreting to listen to the intercom. Nothing out of order. Students were called into the Principal's office all the time. It could've been something personal- perhaps a member of Jessica-san's family has been attacked? He hoped that wasn't the case, but it was very possible.
But despite the normalcy of being called to the Principal's office, there were cryptids about, and no one could be trusted. It was the new student code to never walk alone. He gave Rogan-San and Dark-San a significant look, as if asking them if they were going to accompany her. It was also a look that stated that if they didn't, he'd do it himself. What a pain though... this book was really interesting.
"Will that be all, sir?" Ayla repeated, making sure the old man who had placed his order heard him the second time, tapping her little notepad.
"Yes, thank you honey." The old man smiled, lifting his cup of coffee with such shaky hands that the chiropteran waitress was certain she'd have to come back to him with a rag. She sighed and looked out the window. There weren't many people out anymore, even on a bright, sunny day like this. Thanks to the cryptids, business for the diner she worked in was steadily slowing down to a crawl.
Ayla straightened her uniform and made sure her skirt was high enough to expose as much of her thighs as she could, but low enough to just barely cover up her panties. That always garnered more tips. "I can't wait till my shift's over..." She sighed as she made it back to the kitchen, sticking the post it notes with the customers' orders on them above the counters so the cooks would know what to make. It was typical boring day, despite the roving bands of mutant rapists. This city was boring.
A lone pickup truck drove on the hot, barren highway toward the city, heavily dented and with lots of paint chipped off, and the back covered with a desert camouflage tarp. The driver's furry arm hung out the window, drumming it's clawed fingers on a dent on the door.
Denver stopped his pickup at an abandoned gas station and stepped out to fill up. The coyote peeked through the dusty glass door to check the inside the station, and when he saw that it was empty and ransacked, smashed the glass door with his elbow and reached inside to unlock it. He tipped his cigarette box over his paw and shook it. Nothing but little remnants of tobacco sprinkled his paw. He was dying for a smoke.
"Shoulda' grabbed a pack before I left Bravado..." He grumbled to himself gruffly as he rooted through what was left of the merchandise.
He had been on the road for two days now, having escaped from the overrun city of Bravado with his pants still around his ankles, just barely keeping his ass virginity safe. The latranian man let out a cheery whoop as he scored a slightly crushed pack of Marlboros. Lights. Bleagh. It'd do for now. He never should've picked up smoking, it was such an inconvenient habit.
Back outside, Denver held an unlit cigarette stick in the corner of his muzzle as he filled up, having replaced his torn pants and shirt with a pair of denim shorts and a form-fitting white shirt that he got from the station, and it showed off the powerful physique he got from the long years in military training, and all the childhoods spent in camps. Summer camp, boot camp, hardcore baking camp- you name it, he probably spent at least a year in it.
Finally, it was time to go. Chewing on some jerky and finally lighting his cigarette, he continued on the road to the next city. Just ten miles left, the sign he drove by said in bright, cheery font. The cityscape in the distance didn't look too bad. Looks like the cryptids didn't overrun the place yet.
He put his glasses on and scratched the crusty fur on top of his head, matted with dried sweat from he heat of the sun and being chased and having all sorts of fluids splashed on him. When he got into the city, the first thing he was going to do was take a shower.
IC:
Saburo stopped reading the the passage in the book they were interpreting to listen to the intercom. Nothing out of order. Students were called into the Principal's office all the time. It could've been something personal- perhaps a member of Jessica-san's family has been attacked? He hoped that wasn't the case, but it was very possible.
But despite the normalcy of being called to the Principal's office, there were cryptids about, and no one could be trusted. It was the new student code to never walk alone. He gave Rogan-San and Dark-San a significant look, as if asking them if they were going to accompany her. It was also a look that stated that if they didn't, he'd do it himself. What a pain though... this book was really interesting.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
"Will that be all, sir?" Ayla repeated, making sure the old man who had placed his order heard him the second time, tapping her little notepad.
"Yes, thank you honey." The old man smiled, lifting his cup of coffee with such shaky hands that the chiropteran waitress was certain she'd have to come back to him with a rag. She sighed and looked out the window. There weren't many people out anymore, even on a bright, sunny day like this. Thanks to the cryptids, business for the diner she worked in was steadily slowing down to a crawl.
Ayla straightened her uniform and made sure her skirt was high enough to expose as much of her thighs as she could, but low enough to just barely cover up her panties. That always garnered more tips. "I can't wait till my shift's over..." She sighed as she made it back to the kitchen, sticking the post it notes with the customers' orders on them above the counters so the cooks would know what to make. It was typical boring day, despite the roving bands of mutant rapists. This city was boring.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
A lone pickup truck drove on the hot, barren highway toward the city, heavily dented and with lots of paint chipped off, and the back covered with a desert camouflage tarp. The driver's furry arm hung out the window, drumming it's clawed fingers on a dent on the door.
Denver stopped his pickup at an abandoned gas station and stepped out to fill up. The coyote peeked through the dusty glass door to check the inside the station, and when he saw that it was empty and ransacked, smashed the glass door with his elbow and reached inside to unlock it. He tipped his cigarette box over his paw and shook it. Nothing but little remnants of tobacco sprinkled his paw. He was dying for a smoke.
"Shoulda' grabbed a pack before I left Bravado..." He grumbled to himself gruffly as he rooted through what was left of the merchandise.
He had been on the road for two days now, having escaped from the overrun city of Bravado with his pants still around his ankles, just barely keeping his ass virginity safe. The latranian man let out a cheery whoop as he scored a slightly crushed pack of Marlboros. Lights. Bleagh. It'd do for now. He never should've picked up smoking, it was such an inconvenient habit.
Back outside, Denver held an unlit cigarette stick in the corner of his muzzle as he filled up, having replaced his torn pants and shirt with a pair of denim shorts and a form-fitting white shirt that he got from the station, and it showed off the powerful physique he got from the long years in military training, and all the childhoods spent in camps. Summer camp, boot camp, hardcore baking camp- you name it, he probably spent at least a year in it.
Finally, it was time to go. Chewing on some jerky and finally lighting his cigarette, he continued on the road to the next city. Just ten miles left, the sign he drove by said in bright, cheery font. The cityscape in the distance didn't look too bad. Looks like the cryptids didn't overrun the place yet.
He put his glasses on and scratched the crusty fur on top of his head, matted with dried sweat from he heat of the sun and being chased and having all sorts of fluids splashed on him. When he got into the city, the first thing he was going to do was take a shower.
![[Image: self_centered_coyote_by_kerol-d2zmoca.png]](http://i1223.photobucket.com/albums/dd505/Frisky_E_Coyote/Frisk%20Me/self_centered_coyote_by_kerol-d2zmoca.png)
"I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it!"
