Charles Merriman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callmecharles) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-02-01 12:15 am
callmecharles) wrote in thearena2014-02-01 12:15 am
Entry tags:
One of the guys
Who: Charles "Orc" and anyone interested
what: Deep thinking, Charlie style.
When: Week 3
Where: First Floor mezzanine
Charles had alot on his mind.
He didn't like how it felt.
Torn between his best friend since childhood and an obviously insane but attractive girl who needed his help he didn't know how the old saying "Bros before hoes" ever sounded like it was an easy choice. Especially since he still couldn't find Howard. He was starting to worry the boy had died and he'd slept through the announcement.
To complicate matters Aunamee, the man who had tormented Howard so badly was an ally of Eponine so Orc could no longer hurt him without upsetting the girl.
As much as Orc hated to admit it...she wasn't giving him alot of options.
But every time he thought about breaking it off with her he thought of how sad she looked when Howard had broken up with her. Then of how happy she'd looked their first night together among the wax figures when she'd taken him into her nest and...
The memories alone were enough to make the teenage boys chubby cheeks red with embarrassment.
So to try and clear his head he had procured a club from the cavemen statues upstairs, and a basket full of rubber balls from the gift shop. Each one was colored like a planet in space. He actually thought if he tried hard he might remember them all, but the colors started to blend together so he never got more then a few.
Dragging his basket out into the mezzanine he began. Gingerly with his broken right hand he would pick up one of the balls with his fingertips. It hurt but he'd been dealing with it for two weeks now and he'd just gotten used to the occasional stabbing in his wrist.
He would use his arm to launch the ball up and then as quick as he could he would swing the club with his left arm to try and hit it.
His aim...was terrible. But for every five balls he through one or two he would successfully hit. And as he continued practicing that would get better...probably.
He particularly loved the PONG sound each ball made when it hit something. It reminded him of dodgeball in gym class. Now THERE was a sport. No one died, plenty of brutality. And best of all Orc was good at it.
Aiming for one of the dusty posters hanging high he threw the ball and swung again.
what: Deep thinking, Charlie style.
When: Week 3
Where: First Floor mezzanine
Charles had alot on his mind.
He didn't like how it felt.
Torn between his best friend since childhood and an obviously insane but attractive girl who needed his help he didn't know how the old saying "Bros before hoes" ever sounded like it was an easy choice. Especially since he still couldn't find Howard. He was starting to worry the boy had died and he'd slept through the announcement.
To complicate matters Aunamee, the man who had tormented Howard so badly was an ally of Eponine so Orc could no longer hurt him without upsetting the girl.
As much as Orc hated to admit it...she wasn't giving him alot of options.
But every time he thought about breaking it off with her he thought of how sad she looked when Howard had broken up with her. Then of how happy she'd looked their first night together among the wax figures when she'd taken him into her nest and...
The memories alone were enough to make the teenage boys chubby cheeks red with embarrassment.
So to try and clear his head he had procured a club from the cavemen statues upstairs, and a basket full of rubber balls from the gift shop. Each one was colored like a planet in space. He actually thought if he tried hard he might remember them all, but the colors started to blend together so he never got more then a few.
Dragging his basket out into the mezzanine he began. Gingerly with his broken right hand he would pick up one of the balls with his fingertips. It hurt but he'd been dealing with it for two weeks now and he'd just gotten used to the occasional stabbing in his wrist.
He would use his arm to launch the ball up and then as quick as he could he would swing the club with his left arm to try and hit it.
His aim...was terrible. But for every five balls he through one or two he would successfully hit. And as he continued practicing that would get better...probably.
He particularly loved the PONG sound each ball made when it hit something. It reminded him of dodgeball in gym class. Now THERE was a sport. No one died, plenty of brutality. And best of all Orc was good at it.
Aiming for one of the dusty posters hanging high he threw the ball and swung again.