Seen a couple of people doing this, so I thought I'd give it a go.
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do five of these, then post them.
Unfortunately, some of these aren't really drabbles...more like shorter versions of my usual crap. Oh well. They were actually really fun to do, so expect some more some time
Reviews are as good as....good things....shut up, brain
South Park, including it's concepts and characters are © to Matt Stone and Trey Parker
Walk Away-Kelly Clarkson Karike
For God's sake, Ike, what gives?
I know your family doesn't approve of me: Your mom fucking hates me, and your brother thinks I'm weird. Maybe they're right.
I just want you to like me, Ike. You're my best friend, even though I want you to be more than that.
I waited for you at the bus stop, Saturday, at 7PM, like we arranged. I waited for three hours. You never came, just acted like everything was okay.
The next day was my birthday. You gave me a kiss, my first one, and a colossal bar of chocolate, but then completely blanked me.
You can't keep ignoring me, Ike. You can't keep blowing hot and cold. Someday you will see things my way.
Long Sunday Afternoon-Blood Brothers Cast Gerald Broflovski and Stuart McCormick
Stuart McCormick was bored. After church that day, his mother had persuaded him to go out and play, so that he would be out of his father (who was in a foul mood, as usual)'s way. But why play, if there was no one to play WITH? Gerald's parents had taken him away for the summer, to see his grandparents. That's what they said anyway, but Stuart wasn't an idiot: He knew they thought he was a bad influence that would corrupt their precious son. All because he let a few choice curse words slip in their house, and accidentally left that packet of his dad's cigarettes in Gerald's bedroom…people could be so fucking judgemental.
It wasn't their fault, he guessed. It kind of came with the territory. Maybe if he was more like their son, Gerald's parents might accept him.
He wished he always had money to spare, and clean clothes and was smart like Gerald, although his best friend always said it wasn't that good. In fact, he knew that Gerald thought Stuart's casual swearing, and heavily exaggerated anecdotes of what he'd done that weekend with which girl were wonderful. Funny really….
Stuart sighed, and sat down on the curb. It was going to be a long Sunday afternoon.
I Won't Be Home For Christmas-Blink 182 Eric Cartman
God fucking damnit.
I fucking hate carollers
Do they really, honestly have nothing better to do than piss me off, big time?
And are they really that idiotic to think that, just because Wendy's here, I'll be nice to them?
Where the Hell is my gun?
Ah, there we are.
Hey, it's Christmas-might as well give myself a present and kill and/or maim some of these assholes.
Aw shit….cops are here.
Never thought I'd see Romper Stomper again…least I'll have someone to talk to.
Wait, what the fuck is he doing? Romper, zip your fly up again, before I castrate you!!!
…I did give him fair warning, you must admit.
Car Song-D.V.D.A Stendy
What have I done?
Everyone hates me.
It's all my fault-even Kyle won't speak to me for what I've done.
But I will make it all okay.
I'll do it for Her
For Wendy
Perfect Gentleman-Wyclef Jean Kebe
Another day, another trip to Raisins. Say what you like about it, but considering it's me, Kenny McCormick we're talking about, it shouldn't come as much as a surprise: Good food, even better waitresses.
I've made out with every girl here. Well, all but one. According to Ferrari, a new girl will be putting on the shorts today. I intend to have her sitting on my lap after about ten minutes, and we'll see how things go from there.
Oh, this must be her. Gotta say, the back view's nice: curly blonde hair, curvaceous, nice ass…now if only the face is to the same standard.
Guess I'll see now: she's starting to turn around.
I drop my drink.
Why is Bebe Stevens working here?
With mascara running down her face , mingling with her tears.
She looks at me, bites her lip
And bows her head in shame.
What have I done?
I follow her, touch her shoulder
Tell her to sit down,
Tell me what's wrong
She works here to pay tuition, she says
Her mom won't support her if she won't be a debutant.
I put an arm around her.
Tell her it'll be okay.
That'll I'll look after her
Help her get the money
I'll l take care her
And we'll be sittin' pretty.
