It's a new Chapter, say horray Like Snagglepuss, in the '50s, even!
Scott sat in a dark smoky room. The Man he was supposed to interview was supposed to be here by now. He did say he was pretty far away, up in Dublin and Paris, but this was late even for a Parisian. DAMN YOU RIRA IEDs!
Scott surveys the dark room. The door was to the right, partially off hinge. There were no windows, only a vent in the floor adjacent to the backwards door. The Stool Scott sat on was certainly not the morbid, foodstained couch. Cigarette smoke hung low in the air, rippling across the air in the room. Each breath Scott took left a visible trail in the air. He stands up, and walks to the door.
Forcing it open, he takes a fresh breath of air, only to cough out a puff of smoke. His eyes adjust to the sunlight, as he walks forward. He tells him to stop in midstride. Walking without looking was a bad habit of his. His now finely tuned eyes now scan the world ahead. There was the park, with River calmly meditating, and Niki talking to her, The Road bisecting the park, where Toothy was waxing his car, and some pigeons ready to piss off Toothy. The bright Blue sky showed only a hint of the coming night. He saw Gryffin flexing her wings on her porch. Scott walks up to the fence seperating their respective properties.
"Hey, Gryffin. Have you heard word on a man named Griffin?" He asks. He strains to look at her for the glare coming off her white fur and robe.
She gives him and odd stare and shakes her head. "Never heard of anyone besides me named Griffin or Gryffin."
Scott nods. "Thanks anyway." He pauses for a moment looking away from the blinding gleam, "You ever think of wearing a color other than white?"
Gryffin just smiled, and flapped her massive wings, flying away.
"Angels and their frickin dress codes." He says to himself.
Sniffles was oddly more confident as he read the Lucifer principle further. He now knew how people works as a societal machine.
But now he could see their societal status...
Take Disco Bear for example. When Sniffles laid his eyes upon the washed up superstar, he saw in bright letters above the man's head; Disco Bear/Useless in societal terms/The Superorganism comands you to kill him. NOW.
It was worse for his othe friends: He now knew Cuddles was a socialist who was going to be terminated when The People's Republic of Watership Down fell, Pop would kill for the Catholic Church, and River was nuetral in most subjects and very pacifistic despite the blades sprouting from her wrists. Not that is was BAD, it was just more or less disconcerting to be friends with a 'Commie' or 'Christian Matyr'.
"HEYO SNIFFLES!" comes Nutty's shrill voice interrupting the Philosipher's thought.
Handy, Russell, and Nutty come walking up from behind, startling the blue anteater. He adjusts his glasses. "Hello, Handy. Hello Russell. Nutty..." the Squirrel twitches, and the 'Chauvanistic Capitalist' floating above his head flickers with the squirrel.
"Yar, You done yar book yet, Lad? 'The Regulars' was magnificent, 'though thar scurvy author was a dick for killing the gay guy. Yar." Russell growls in his Key West Drawl. 'Gay Rights Activist' flashed above his head.
"Russell, 'The Regulars' was a comic, not a book." Handy observes.
"Yar t'was a good comic anyway, yar." Russell retorts.
"My penis tastes like a lollipop!" Nutty spats. 'Autofellater' is quickly added to the 'Chauvanistic Capitolist'.
"No, Russell, I am not done The Lucifer Principle!" Sniffles says in disgust at the words floating above the pirate's head.
"Yar 's there some'en wrong?" Russell asks.
"No, nothing at all." Sniffles lied through his teeth.
Yar, see you later..." Russell says, waryly pulling away from Sniffles. The Three walk away, Nutty again chirping about his adventures in Autofellatio.
Sniffles's eyes turned to slits, glaring daggers at the three.
Sorry for short Choppy chapters, but I NEED to get these Ideas out.