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Skinny jeans are a rockstar requirement ([info]stubbywubby) wrote in [info]valesco,
@ 2008-09-04 06:22:00


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Hobgoblins ASSEMBLE!
People were coming over- actual human beings were planning on giving Casa Boardman a small visit! Bollocks.

Hastily dragging his feet from where he passed out on the couch the night before to the kitchen, Stubby Boardman summoned a trash bag and started putting years of being under his mother's watchful eye into practical use. Usually cleaning wasn't such a difficult task- it was getting himself to start doing it was the hard part. And after the weeks of sloth he had spent locked away in his room, the place was left in complete disarray.

Stuart grabbed empty pizza cartons and empty cans on the floors and counters, and threw them quickly behind him in the levitating black bag that followed his every step. His hands were quick, and his mind alert and not soon after, his living room was back in its blessedly pristine shape. Next were the kitchen (thankfully, he went grocery shopping a day ago) bathrooms, then the rest of his house. Thank Merlin for magic, else he would be in such deep shit...

After a quick shower, he dressed in his pajamas- why should he bother dressing up, when 100% cotton was next to world peace?- and plopped gracefully back on his couch. His cat jumped on the spot beside him and stretched before curling against his side. "Don't get too comfortable, buddy. We have people coming over." The cat meowed. "Don't act so surprised. Why did you think I cleaned the place up?"


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[info]stubbywubby
2008-09-04 12:31 am UTC (link)
At the 'pop' sound that came with every apparation, stubby looked up from stroking his cat's auburn fur. He grimaced at the other's greeting. "I'm taller than you, prick." he pointed out, scowling deeper when the other ruffled his hair before settling on the couch beside him. "Do that again, old man, and say goodbye to your..." he thought for a moment, raking his gaze over the other's form. "Your... torso. Imagine losing that!" he laid back, contentedly. "You'd be just a pile of limbs in my living room." Plus, your torso's where your liver is. It'll thank me for giving it a vacation. he dearly wanted to say but bit his tongue, knowing it wouldn't do anyone good. The smell of liquor- though faint- was distinct and unmistakable, especially in contrast to the now clean-smelling room.

To distract himself, he summoned a bag of chips and started eating. "Want some?"

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