Post-It: ETD 00:01am

[maced_eggs]

[Spam for the Dining Room, Morning]

[Last night, Mason, Grim Reaper, age 27 and dead for the last forty years, shucked off his muddy, blood-stained clothes and fell asleep on a couch in his Union Jack underwear.

This morning, Mason, still dead, wakes up on the Barge.

Mason's never been much of what anyone might call "consciously aware", or "observant." For example; he fails to observe he is not in his home when he wakes up. He fails to observe that all of his clothes have gone missing.

What he does observe is that he is bloody starving, and needs a very, very large breakfast to erase the nightmare of the day before. So after failing to observe that he is completely pantsless, Mason shuffles out of his room and off to find food.

Which is why, still half asleep and very nearly naked, is a man barging through the breakfast bar gathering up as many miniature cereal boxes in his arms as he possibly can. He doesn't merely stop when they're all gone: systematically, he goes around to every table he nears and plucks them from unsuspecting eaters when he guesses they're not looking.

Arms loaded with cereal, the mysterious, nearly naked man attempts to make a retreat.

He doesn't yet have the capacity to guess where he is at the moment, aside from the completely unhelpful "Not at home." But at least there will always be Fruit Loops.]

Comments

[this_corrosion]

[This pantsless arsehole is cutting in line and Gary's not going to stand for it. He's wearing sunglasses indoors and he's hung over and fuck you.]

They're not all for you, piss off!

[He's going to try to steal one off the top of the bundle of cereal the guy's gathered. Or maybe two. He doesn't even like cereal, it's more like the principle of the thing.]

[maced_eggs]

[Now here's someone Mason can recognize. Not the face, mind, but the attitude, the sunglasses, the tone. This man is deeply hungover. Mason begins to snigger, before his smile is abruptly wiped off his face at the man stealing his stolen cereal]

You're telling me to piss off? Me.

Awright, you can have the little Frosted Flakes but anything with marshmallows is going to me. And that's because I am a generous person and I can see you've just come from the night I've been having and oi look over there.

[Nope, stealing the cereal back. It's the principle of the thing]

[this_corrosion]

Yeah, I am. Who made you king of the fucking cereal?

[He does look over there, because he's not firing on all cylinders at the moment, but he still notices when the cereal is stolen back.]

Oy!

[maced_eggs]

[Nope, time to run away. Mason sprints from Gary, pausing every so often to wing a cereal box at his face from across the room]

Here, all right? Have your fucking cereal, have all the, the little Wheat Thin shit you can stuff in your fat fucking gob! You-

[Too bad he was too busy throwing things to look where he was going. Mason's shin hits a table and he falls down in a hail of little cardboard boxes, sitting on the floor with a pained gasp]

Fuck..

[this_corrosion]

[Gary cackles when he's done dodging boxes and makes an enthusiastically rude gesture.]

That's called karma! Funny story, I don't even want it!

[maced_eggs]

[Mason returns the gesture, looking deeply upset and embarrassed as he slinks underneath the table, crouching there]

Fucking hell..

[Well, now he's starting to wake up and realize he might not be in the place he wants to be just yet.

You know what would be good in this moment? Cocoa Puffs. He opens a bag and begins to nibble on them one by one.]

[this_corrosion]

[Gary wanders over after awhile with three donuts. He has earned them. Someone else can pick up all this dumb cereal.]

You still down there?

[maced_eggs]

[yes, Gary, he is. His legs are sticking out from under the table, even as he leans forward on the seat attached, his chin on his folded arms. In pops another cocoa puff, as he answers petulantly]

Yes.

My leg hurts.

[this_corrosion]

Yeah, well, you gotta watch where you're going.

[Gary bends nearly in half to peer under the table.]

Anyone ever tell you you look like Richard Hammond?

[maced_eggs]

I was always told I looked like a young, slightly more attractive Sean Connery.

[Mason squints back at Gary, half hidden under the table and rubbing his leg]

Can you please tell me where the fuck I am?

[this_corrosion]

[Gary snickers at that and almost tips over.]

Yeah, right! Uh, you're on the Barge, mate.

[He knocks on the tabletop to indicate it. Yes. This. The material plane.]

You died, but you're not good enough for heaven or bad enough for hell. Somewhere in the middle.

[maced_eggs]

[Mason glances up to the table as Gary knocks on it, before looking back]

Yeah, all right, I know that. Where the fuck - [he begins to make hand gestures back and forth, like he's trying to indicate distance] - is "The Barge" in relation to Seattle? I'll take Seattle. Or, y'know. Any general continent because I don't do well on boats, sir, I really don't.

Waking up in strange places, issnot new, issnot even the first time I've woken on a boat but you know how it is, Boss Man is going to be pissed off if I don't find my way home soon. Right?

So when's the Barge make port?

[this_corrosion]

Space. Annnnd I was told port would be soon but I'm still waiting on that.

[He jams half a donut in his mouth, continues talking.]

Shite if you ask me.

[maced_eggs]

...Space.


[Mason copies Gary's motions, popping a few more Cocoa Puffs in his mouth as he looks disbelievingly onwards]

Yeah, right. Whatever you say.

Seriously, I'm not playin' around. I dunno how long it's been since I had a proper breakfast and that means it's been a day longer than I'm supposed to be away and if I don't make it back to der fuckin Waffle Haus, my boss is going to....do something not very nice to me.

I don't know what. But it won't be nice.

[this_corrosion]

I can prove it if you'd come out from there.

[maced_eggs]

...Yeah, all right.

[Mason clamors out from under the table, rubbing his arms up and down as he suddenly realize how at a lack of clothes he is. There are some cocoa puffs still in his hair from when he'd fallen]

Go on, then. Prove we're in space.

[this_corrosion]

[Gary jerks a thumb over his shoulder and swallows the last of his donut.]

Got to go to the roof. Come on.

[maced_eggs]

[Reluctantly snatching up his only box he'd managed to hold onto, Mason follows after Gary, shivering a little in just his underoos]

Ooh, trespassing.

[this_corrosion]

Yeah, well, after indecent exposure it's really just a bonus for you.

[He swings around the doorframe to the lift, and punches the button to call it. Excessively.]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason watches Gary press the button, raising his eyebrows and giggling at him]

Does that really make it go faster?

[this_corrosion]

Yeah.

[Of course it does. Idiot.

The door dings open and he strides inside. See? Lift is here already.]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason follows after Gary easily, like a curious puppy]

Fair enough.

[this_corrosion]

[Gary lights a cig on the ride up in quick, practiced movements and talks around it. No smoke detectors anywhere on the ship, it's awesome.]

How'd you die, then?

[maced_eggs]

[Mason looks on in clear jealousy; he doesn't have any of those lying around, even though pills are more his thing]

...S'abit embarrassing.

Back in 1966, someone told me once that the more oxygen you've got flowing to your brain, the better the high.

So I figured there was a way to get even more oxygen going, right? An' I took this power drill, and I, uhm.

[he mimes drilling a hole. Into his own head]

[this_corrosion]

[For some reason, this startles a little cackle out of Gary. Also, no, these are his smokes, get your own you cereal thief.]

You fucked up. Oh, come on!

[The doors are only half-open when Gary shoots through the gap like he's been launched from a cannon.]