Day 42

[Kirosia]

Day Lonely-in-Logopolis
 
Allo! My name is er.. The Doctor, at least that's what my friends call me (if I had any). I'm an ornery old-young coot who's spent most of his life going from point A to point Z (with no stops in-between), and well, I've been on my own for quite a while.. 25 years give or take. I won't lie, I'm not particularly special, at least not in any traditional sense. Just a fella who likes to sit and listen, maybe reply with an insightful retort here and there. I guess I'm looking for someone.. alive, you know? Fun, intelligent, witty, a Nancy to my Sid, Romana to my Fourth. As for my appearance, it's complicated. I tend to "change up" my looks every now and then, sometimes to good taste. (There was a brief period where I resembled a clown, but it was the '80s and all)  Anyways, if you're a cute redhead/brunette/Taylor Swift and are interested, just head for the nearest supernatural/cosmic/English disaster. Look for the blue police box with the lipstick heart drawn on the side, that may or may not be de-materializing under a falling three-eyed behemoth. 
 
Also, I'm literate. 

 

[Kirosia]

There's a monster under my bed. I wonder what its hiding from?

 

[Kirosia]

Want to hear a scary story? I'm 25 years old and live alone in a beat up van down by the river. The end.

 

[Kirosia]

I eat generic cat food.

 

[Uncle Erik]

Generic?

I find that Iams gives me a glossier coat.

 

[Brooko]

 

[Ouspensky]

Quote:

Generic?
I find that Iams gives me a glossier coat.

LOL.

 

[Kirosia]

Table condiments are talking to me why is this happening again

 

[Kirosia]

Today, we shall discuss the use of symbolic, semi-physical rocket attacks and their adverse effects on the local noosphere. And my whore ex-wife.

 

[Anaxilus]

Quote:

And my whore ex-wife.

The prostitute?  Women have a right to work too.
 

 

[Kirosia]

[The sun is setting. The retail store is empty, except for the employees, of which there are only three. Four if you count the lady who cleans the bathrooms. Two people are at the front lanes, registers 6 and 8]

Me: Hey Ash.

Her: Yes?

Me: Will you marry me?

Her: No.

Me: Dammit!...

[The petite blonde cashier walks away, about maybe ten feet, to the nearby Loss Prevention guy. She throws herself into his arms, they kiss]

Me: I just wasn't good enough. I just wasn't him.

[The boy in the blue polo turns around, and drops to his knees. Raindrops fall on his tear-drenched face, even though he's still technically inside the store. A child cries]

 

[Kirosia]

I should give it a try. Pilot this time-damned town to the stars. The ship's been primed for ages, gassed by walking ghosts, fueled by hopelessness twice-removed. I want to get us out of here, the "us" still capable of closing our eyes, dreaming, of worlds where lost children no longer have to be afraid. We can fly this beast, I'm sure of it, we just have to  let go.

 

[Kirosia]

Screw it, I'll just bum a bus ticket and go wherever in hell the Number 22 to Putney Common takes me. Probably Putney Common, but I've actually never been, so it's still probably better than here.

 

[Kirosia]

I have relegated all gift-whoring duties to my stuffed teddy bear. She doesn't have fingers, but makes up for it in panache and upper-body strength.

 

[Kirosia]

Nice guys finish last. Or just not first, I don't think the runner-up gets anything. Unless the girl has like a cute sister, not really sure how it works.