Séance spent most of his time moping around. In jail, that's about all he could do. The Greenpeace Correctional Center wasn't exactly furbished to entertain its occupants. Books, magazines, weights? Save it for the people who'll be in jail for life, they said. They have time to do whatever they want.
That said, Greenpeace Correctional Center ('Damn these title inflations!' thought Séance. 'Just call it a jail, damnit!') only has the bare necessities in their jails. A toilet, a sink, and a bed... although any sane person wouldn't want to touch the toilets provided with their bare skin.
Reassessing his room, Séance's eyes sweeped over the contents.
'Alright. Sink, with... something... stuck in the drain. Note to self: don't touch the handles.' His eye twitched.
'Next up... the bed. Must not ask myself why it feels like something is moving inside the bed. I'd probably never sleep if I knew.' So far, so good, for Séance. He could handle all of it, so far. Nothing terrible.
'And finally... the toilet. I think.' He could see that there were bits of... something... left on the toilet seat. Making himself ignore that, he peered at the water, a murky, brackish substance, with several 'inhabitants' breaking the surface.
Séance tried the lever. It didn't flush.
'Damnit.'
--------
"Lights out!"
Séance, barely coherent from boredom, numbly put out his lights and slipped under the covers.
He tried, yes, he tried, to imagine the moving... things... in his bed as being something else. 'Hmm... think of a massage bed... a massage bed that squeaks like a Titmouse..."
Séance had barely managed to convince himself it was a massage bed when he heard something slithering in the corner of his cell. Remembering he couldn't make a sound nor turn on the lights after Lights Out, he hoped that if he was silent and ignored it, whatever it was would go away.
'Please go away please go away pleasegoaway ohmygodIfeltthebedmoveIt'sonme... playdeadplaydeadplaydead, maybe it'll ignore me... ignore... Séance, ignore the feelings on your ass... it will go away... mommy...'
(Dammit, how come what I write always comes out to about a page's worth? Damn you Red Priest!)
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(Posted Fri, 20 Aug 2004 18:58)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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