Shout out to RiteName of reasons.


Macon sat at the dining room table, reading a book. He should have been in his study, but he felt obligated to watch over his niece and -probably- future son-in-law/ niece's boyfriend. God, why had he agreed to let them try out some casts in a book they found in his study? That was the thing- he hadn't.
The last time he had objected to something Lena had wanted to do, there had been a very large argument, which involved a blizzard hitting South Carolina and causing the whole state to be declared a State Of Emergency, and a account made up for him against his will.

Macon kept reading, ignoring the few sounds of objects hitting the ground or shattering upstairs.
"House, clean those up." he said, pointing to the ceiling, his eyes never leaving the page of his book. "Thank you." he mumbled.
How many times did those two have to break something? From the Order Of Things, to his vital old-school southern family standards,to that expensive vase upstairs.
Oh- please not the vase.

There was a loud thunk, and there was the sound of a door opening. "Boo?" a voice called.
He looked up, listening in. Perfect. If Boo could get in, he could spy on them and make sure they weren't trying anything dangerous, like resurrecting demon-creatures like from...wait- what was the show called? Oh, yes- Supernatural. Such a mortal idea of the magic intertwined with their world- yet still hidden.

He felt his eyes become his dog's and watched from his point of view. The big wolf-dog contently walked in, sitting down obediently. "Good boy, Boo!" said Lena, as Boo rolled onto his belly, ready of the praise of tummy rubs. Lena stroked his long belly lovingly, forgetting the fact that her uncle could spy on them through Boo, but he wasn't worried about that, either. No longer concentrated on his book, he caught his leg uncontrollably moving like a dog's. If there was one thing he could say about his niece- she gave the best belly rubs.
"Now, sit. Stay-" she placed a hand up as a signal to halt, and opened up an old tattered book.
He couldn't comprehend the words, and he gulped. If they were testing something on Boo, what would it possibly do?

Macon felt a current of electricity flow through him, like he had been tased, but without much of the sting. He blinked, realizing he could actually see. He tried to see using Boo again, but failed.
Something had gone wrong.

"Uncle M?" called Lena nervously from upstairs.
"Yes?" He asked, pretending nothing had happened.
"There's someone I think you should meet-"
As she said that, he heard three pairs of footsteps on the last few steps on the staircase.
He eyed Lena, Ethan, and a strange man was somewhere in his twenties, with shoulder-length shaggy black hair, and big brown eyes. He had a Nirvana t-shirt on under a worn leather jacket, with black jeans and black high-top converse that were covered in dirt and dust.
He raised an eyebrow at Macon in a way that hinted he was a total jerk.

"Well, Uncle- this is..." she began, but the man had cut her off by raising a hand.
"Bartholomew Radley, sir." he said with fake enthusiasm, shaking Macon's hand.

"Or...you can call me Boo."


Okay, Boo is HEAVILY inspired by Max Gilardi. He's like that asshole friend you keep around the be a jerk with. I've met him twice, and got acknowledged on his Tumblr page three times. I've go a signed drawing from him, and there's a huge FatAlbertShy drawing in his bedroom that's mine. Anyway, yeah. Max Gilardi is his spirit animal. I like using the "gettin' real tired of your BS" thing with him in this.

Here is the god of all 'off-color' humor himself: fs71/i/2012/205/2/a/trotcon_max_gilardi_hotdiggitydemon_by_

(OH MY GOD. I found a picture of him with hair. . )