Rather important little note: This fic is not a fic at all. It is a conglomeration of small drabbles, pieces of stories that do not belong in any fic. These were all challenges, where a phrase and the word count were given to me, and I wrote something in response to the challenge. I like some of them, so I'm posting them here, in this story thing. New drabbles go into new chapters. None of them go together. They're just here.
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Challenge #14
Phrase: "And that was the straw that broke the camel's back."
Word Count: 871
Rating: PG
Title: Confessions of a Disenchanted Heart
Author: Rydia Highwind
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and Metal Gear Solid 2 and all characters refered to herein belong to Konami. I claim nothing, I'm simply borrowing.
Summary: Dave has a confession to make.
Warning: Silliness, lots of cynacism.
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There's something you should know about me. It's a dirty little secret I don't like to think about often, much less share with other people. So I guess you should feel privileged that I'm disclosing this to you or something. It's not something that's easy for me to admit. I mean, I feel like I'm doing a disservice to the parties involved by even feeling this. You'll probably think I'm a loser, and I don't know. I can't really argue with that. It's not like I don't feel bad enough as is. But here are the facts, plain and simple. I can't pay attention when my best friend talks to me.
I know. It's horrible, isn't it? Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you met the guy. Hal doesn't get out too much, you see, and I think he's kind of lonely. I live with him in a little apartment, so I get to sift through the brunt of it. God, once I made the mistake of asking something about how virtual reality worked--he's an engineer, you see, he /writes/ VR programs--and, well, I started timing him because I was that bored. You know how long he rambled? He went for two hours and thirty-seven minutes. About stuff I can't even begin to understand. He wasn't finished either. I cut him off because he finally took a breath and I thought my brain was going to explode if he kept talking. Two hours and thirty-seven minutes! And if you asked me to repeat one word he said to me on that day...well, I don't think I could do it.
You see, it doesn't matter if I pay attention or not. His brain works at a completely different level than mine does. Sometimes I feel like he's talking to me from a different planet or something. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but when he tells me about the something of the something else and how you shouldn't hook together the thing and the other thing...well, it's obviously pretty lost on me. I don't know if I'm just a damn good actor or something, or if he's really just that unobservant. I'm leaning toward the latter, because I'm sure I look completely glazed over. That's how it feels anyway. Getting up from talking to him is like waking up from a deep sleep where you had dreams that you know you had but can't quite remember.
What's even /worse/ is when he tells me about his job. I mean, I'm glad he enjoys it and all, but...well, you see, he works at a little computer repair shop. With a bunch of geeks just like him. Oh god. Listening to him talk about his job is enough for me to support legalizing euthanasia. Seriously. As if one 135 pound pasty skinned computer geek wasn't enough, now we have stories about like six of them getting together and talking. It's a good thing he never invites them over. I think I'd consider suicide. Or maybe I'd go insane and take them all with me. That sounds good.
You can probably take a guess as to what he's talking to me about now. Yeah, that's right. He's talking about his job and what happened there today. I'm about to cry, I really am. It's great and all that something weird happened and something exploded, and I'm sure I would have found it uproariously funny if I had been there and not hearing about /why/ it happened. I don't understand what a router is or why hooking it to a certain computer can cause things to burst into flames. I don't understand power connections or cords or anything. He's been going on for an hour at least--I forgot to look at the clock--and he's not even to the point of his story yet.
"And /that/ was the straw that broke the camel's back," he says, waving his arms emphatically, and I think I've decided it's about time to beat my head into the wall until I fall unconscious. "Once Hugo hooked those two together, that was the end of everything. You should have seen it, Dave; it was spectacular. The sprinklers went on and everything. The fire department even showed up. Though I think they're called automatically when the smoke detectors go off. Some sort of automatic safety device. Kind of stupid if you ask me. Though I guess if something happened when no one was there, it'd be okay. Anyway, so the sprinklers go on, and everyone's running around with tarps and plastic and anything they can find to cover up the computers because you know what water does to electronics."
I actually have no idea what water does to electronics. Probably something bad. From the way Hal is talking, I'm going to make an educated guess and assume that water on electronics causes the apocalypse to hit earth, God willing or otherwise. I also don't really care what water does to electronics. Frankly, anything more complicated than the telephone is beyond my comprehension anyway. All right. Mental note. Spilling water on the phone could cause apocalypse. Avoid at all costs, unless Hal is talking about work.
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Challenge #14
Phrase: "And that was the straw that broke the camel's back."
Word Count: 871
Rating: PG
Title: Confessions of a Disenchanted Heart
Author: Rydia Highwind
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and Metal Gear Solid 2 and all characters refered to herein belong to Konami. I claim nothing, I'm simply borrowing.
Summary: Dave has a confession to make.
Warning: Silliness, lots of cynacism.
--
There's something you should know about me. It's a dirty little secret I don't like to think about often, much less share with other people. So I guess you should feel privileged that I'm disclosing this to you or something. It's not something that's easy for me to admit. I mean, I feel like I'm doing a disservice to the parties involved by even feeling this. You'll probably think I'm a loser, and I don't know. I can't really argue with that. It's not like I don't feel bad enough as is. But here are the facts, plain and simple. I can't pay attention when my best friend talks to me.
I know. It's horrible, isn't it? Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you met the guy. Hal doesn't get out too much, you see, and I think he's kind of lonely. I live with him in a little apartment, so I get to sift through the brunt of it. God, once I made the mistake of asking something about how virtual reality worked--he's an engineer, you see, he /writes/ VR programs--and, well, I started timing him because I was that bored. You know how long he rambled? He went for two hours and thirty-seven minutes. About stuff I can't even begin to understand. He wasn't finished either. I cut him off because he finally took a breath and I thought my brain was going to explode if he kept talking. Two hours and thirty-seven minutes! And if you asked me to repeat one word he said to me on that day...well, I don't think I could do it.
You see, it doesn't matter if I pay attention or not. His brain works at a completely different level than mine does. Sometimes I feel like he's talking to me from a different planet or something. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but when he tells me about the something of the something else and how you shouldn't hook together the thing and the other thing...well, it's obviously pretty lost on me. I don't know if I'm just a damn good actor or something, or if he's really just that unobservant. I'm leaning toward the latter, because I'm sure I look completely glazed over. That's how it feels anyway. Getting up from talking to him is like waking up from a deep sleep where you had dreams that you know you had but can't quite remember.
What's even /worse/ is when he tells me about his job. I mean, I'm glad he enjoys it and all, but...well, you see, he works at a little computer repair shop. With a bunch of geeks just like him. Oh god. Listening to him talk about his job is enough for me to support legalizing euthanasia. Seriously. As if one 135 pound pasty skinned computer geek wasn't enough, now we have stories about like six of them getting together and talking. It's a good thing he never invites them over. I think I'd consider suicide. Or maybe I'd go insane and take them all with me. That sounds good.
You can probably take a guess as to what he's talking to me about now. Yeah, that's right. He's talking about his job and what happened there today. I'm about to cry, I really am. It's great and all that something weird happened and something exploded, and I'm sure I would have found it uproariously funny if I had been there and not hearing about /why/ it happened. I don't understand what a router is or why hooking it to a certain computer can cause things to burst into flames. I don't understand power connections or cords or anything. He's been going on for an hour at least--I forgot to look at the clock--and he's not even to the point of his story yet.
"And /that/ was the straw that broke the camel's back," he says, waving his arms emphatically, and I think I've decided it's about time to beat my head into the wall until I fall unconscious. "Once Hugo hooked those two together, that was the end of everything. You should have seen it, Dave; it was spectacular. The sprinklers went on and everything. The fire department even showed up. Though I think they're called automatically when the smoke detectors go off. Some sort of automatic safety device. Kind of stupid if you ask me. Though I guess if something happened when no one was there, it'd be okay. Anyway, so the sprinklers go on, and everyone's running around with tarps and plastic and anything they can find to cover up the computers because you know what water does to electronics."
I actually have no idea what water does to electronics. Probably something bad. From the way Hal is talking, I'm going to make an educated guess and assume that water on electronics causes the apocalypse to hit earth, God willing or otherwise. I also don't really care what water does to electronics. Frankly, anything more complicated than the telephone is beyond my comprehension anyway. All right. Mental note. Spilling water on the phone could cause apocalypse. Avoid at all costs, unless Hal is talking about work.