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thismaskiwearIt was a Saturday morning, and Razormouth was up early. As usual. Not sleeping, like most people with sense tended to do on Saturday mornings. That was for normal people. And Razormouth scoffed at the idea of being normal.
She was perched on the very corner of the roof in her blue spandex suit, covered head to toe except for the billowing tail of blonde hair, arms propped on her knees, chin propped on her arms, moping for all she was worth.
Why am I here?
. . .
That bird's going to hit the tree if it doesn't -- ow.
*sigh*
That couple over there really oughta pull the shade down.
What's the meaning of life? Qu'est-ce que je dois faire?
. . . was that French? I DON'T SPEAK FRENCH!
Yeah. It was so hard being Razormouth.
[OOC: Establishy for now! Strangers in Paradise volume 3, issue 33, is "When Worlds Collide," one of several one-off superhero parodies, from which I ganked/adapted some of the internal monologue. Bless you, Terry Moore.]
She was perched on the very corner of the roof in her blue spandex suit, covered head to toe except for the billowing tail of blonde hair, arms propped on her knees, chin propped on her arms, moping for all she was worth.
Why am I here?
. . .
That bird's going to hit the tree if it doesn't -- ow.
*sigh*
That couple over there really oughta pull the shade down.
What's the meaning of life? Qu'est-ce que je dois faire?
. . . was that French? I DON'T SPEAK FRENCH!
Yeah. It was so hard being Razormouth.
[OOC: Establishy for now! Strangers in Paradise volume 3, issue 33, is "When Worlds Collide," one of several one-off superhero parodies, from which I ganked/adapted some of the internal monologue. Bless you, Terry Moore.]
