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Title: Some Deep, Existential Shite
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fenderlove
Rating: PG for language.
Summary: Spike has some odd thoughts while in his kitchen. (I have no idea where this came from.)
Some Deep, Existential Shite
There were a multitude of reasons why Spike should never be left alone to his own devices while drunk. Chief-most of those reasons was that, with no one to talk to, Spike would make conversation with himself... or any household items that happened to be in his line of sight. Today, his drinking buddy was a half-empty roll of paper towels.
Spike stared at the piece of Brawny that he'd just ripped off the roll to clean up some spilled beer on the kitchen counter.
"Isn't that just life for you? Shoved and whirled around with a bloody stick shoved up your arse until someone needs you... but they don't really want you. They just want to use you because you're convenient. If they had a regular towel in their hands, they'd forget all about poor, pitiful you. They just take, take, take, each time ripping another small piece of you away until there's nothing left but a hollow cardboard shell. Next thing you know, you're in the garbage with leftover Chinese food and empty beer bottles."
Glancing over at the puddle of beer on the Formica and then back at the paper towel, Spike sighed. With a few more alcohol-fueled thoughts, the vampire lifted the whole roll from the holder and dropped it on the beer, watching as the brownish liquid was absorbed by a million little quilted ripples.
"I've liberated you, roll of Brawny! Be free!"
The next morning, Spike woke to a massive hangover and little memory of his drinking binge. Staggering off the couch and into his kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of the epically swelled and soggy roll of paper towels.
Tilting his head up towards the ceiling, Spike shouted to no one in particular, "Why does this keep happening?!"
The End.
Author:
fenderloveRating: PG for language.
Summary: Spike has some odd thoughts while in his kitchen. (I have no idea where this came from.)
Some Deep, Existential Shite
There were a multitude of reasons why Spike should never be left alone to his own devices while drunk. Chief-most of those reasons was that, with no one to talk to, Spike would make conversation with himself... or any household items that happened to be in his line of sight. Today, his drinking buddy was a half-empty roll of paper towels.
Spike stared at the piece of Brawny that he'd just ripped off the roll to clean up some spilled beer on the kitchen counter.
"Isn't that just life for you? Shoved and whirled around with a bloody stick shoved up your arse until someone needs you... but they don't really want you. They just want to use you because you're convenient. If they had a regular towel in their hands, they'd forget all about poor, pitiful you. They just take, take, take, each time ripping another small piece of you away until there's nothing left but a hollow cardboard shell. Next thing you know, you're in the garbage with leftover Chinese food and empty beer bottles."
Glancing over at the puddle of beer on the Formica and then back at the paper towel, Spike sighed. With a few more alcohol-fueled thoughts, the vampire lifted the whole roll from the holder and dropped it on the beer, watching as the brownish liquid was absorbed by a million little quilted ripples.
"I've liberated you, roll of Brawny! Be free!"
The next morning, Spike woke to a massive hangover and little memory of his drinking binge. Staggering off the couch and into his kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of the epically swelled and soggy roll of paper towels.
Tilting his head up towards the ceiling, Spike shouted to no one in particular, "Why does this keep happening?!"
The End.
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O, I could see this.
:giggle:
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