Post by nds on Apr 21, 2010 5:31:37 GMT -5
[St. Christian is passed out on the floor of a Chinese restaurant. Hamster Girl is trying to nurse him back to life like a baby chick, carefully spooning custard past his lips. His eyes slowly flicker open to the light.]
HG: Hello kitty!
[His eyes glaze over at being awake.]
HG: Well aren’t you a sour little lemon?
[She cracks the spoon into a saucer of crème brûlée.]
HG: Here comes the choo choo train!
[He stands back on his feet and finds the other customers staring at him. He sits back at the table and Hamster Girl joins him. He holds his head in pain.]
CSC: What happened?
HG: You passed out like someone had shot you.
[He holds up one of many empty glasses of vodka to his eyes.]
CSC: Figures.
HG: The waiters wouldn’t do a damn thing, they didn’t even want to touch you. So I had to take action.
[St. Christian coughs up custard into his lap.]
CSC: By feeding me pudding?
HG: Heck, it works for me.
CSC: Garcon!
CSC: Another glass of your delicious vodka!
Waitress: I think you’ve had your fill sir.
[He beats his fist into the table.]
CSC: Just bring me some booze hot damnit!
Waitress: Fine.
[St. Christian starts shoveling meat into his mouth with his hands and noisily slurps it down like a wild animal.]
HG: I guess you don’t know how to use chopsticks.
[St. Christian smiles a bloody grin, meat all over his face and down his front.]
CSC: At least I don’t play with my food.
[Hamster Girl suddenly looks hurt and puts down the hotdog men she had put together with cocktail sticks.]
HG: Hello kitty!
[His eyes glaze over at being awake.]
HG: Well aren’t you a sour little lemon?
[She cracks the spoon into a saucer of crème brûlée.]
HG: Here comes the choo choo train!
[He stands back on his feet and finds the other customers staring at him. He sits back at the table and Hamster Girl joins him. He holds his head in pain.]
CSC: What happened?
HG: You passed out like someone had shot you.
[He holds up one of many empty glasses of vodka to his eyes.]
CSC: Figures.
HG: The waiters wouldn’t do a damn thing, they didn’t even want to touch you. So I had to take action.
[St. Christian coughs up custard into his lap.]
CSC: By feeding me pudding?
HG: Heck, it works for me.
CSC: Garcon!
CSC: Another glass of your delicious vodka!
Waitress: I think you’ve had your fill sir.
[He beats his fist into the table.]
CSC: Just bring me some booze hot damnit!
Waitress: Fine.
[St. Christian starts shoveling meat into his mouth with his hands and noisily slurps it down like a wild animal.]
HG: I guess you don’t know how to use chopsticks.
[St. Christian smiles a bloody grin, meat all over his face and down his front.]
CSC: At least I don’t play with my food.
[Hamster Girl suddenly looks hurt and puts down the hotdog men she had put together with cocktail sticks.]