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

[patheticvillain]

[Nope, you just get another slap.]

Do I look like I give a shit about imaginary Mick Jagger? There are probably a thousand cereal boxes here, go steal someone else's.

[His marshmallows. His.]

[maced_eggs]

[Making a sound like a wounded kitten, Mason drops his entire armload of mini cereal boxes onto Cassel's table and drops down in front of him, rummaging through the boxes]

How's about this. I'll trade you. Your Lucky Charms for my Honey Nut Cheerios. You're not going to get a better trade'n than, I guarantee you.

[He holds up the box with both hands, showing it to Cassel like he's Vanna White]

Says right here it reduces cholesterol. And you can't put a price on that, can you? S'way better than a bunch of stale marshmallows.

C'mon, hand it over. C'mon c'mon c'mon.

[patheticvillain]

[He just stares dead-eyed at Mason. It is way too early in the morning for this bullshit.]

Okay, here are the issues with your argument.

Point one, Honey Nut Cheerios are several tiers of excellence down from Lucky Charms. They have no marshmallows in them and way less sugar. I would be trading down. No deal.

Point two, I'm not taking some random asshole's cereal, it might be poisoned.

Point three, my cholesterol's fine, and even if it wasn't, I've already died three times, I don't care.

Point four, you're not wearing pants.

[maced_eggs]

[this is the face of a pouting child]

Whuh...Lucky Charms are not better than Honey Nut Cheerios. Do you have any idea what Lucky Charms does to your arteries? One day you're sitting around snacking on some all-colors-of-the-rainbow and the next, Bam, you're lying dead on the floor of a heart attack at forty-three.

[He picks up the box a third time, evidently never learning]

I'm saving your fucking life, is what I'm doing! Now piss off.

[patheticvillain]

[SLAP]

I'm not going to 'piss off', this is my table.

Sit the hell down and eat your Honey Nut Cheerios like an adult.

[maced_eggs]

[Defeated, Mason slumps down at the table in front of Cassel, pouting like hell. He picks up the box of cheerios, tearing it open and scowling into it]

Why the fuck don't they put marshmallows in Cheerios?

[patheticvillain]

[What a pathetic creature. Cassel sighs, rips open his box, and throws a marshmallow at Mason's left ear.]

Because Cheerios is the cereal that people eat when they want to convince themselves they're being healthy. Marshmallows aren't healthy.

Who the fuck are you supposed to be?

[maced_eggs]

[Making a face at Cassel as the marshmallow is thrown at him, Mason begins tearing open multiple boxes of different kinds of cereal, apparently intent on creating one terrible-tasting mega cereal concoction]

Cheerios don't save your life, mate. Not when you're more like to get hit by a bus.

Oh, I'm. No one. Or something. God, do you know when you just wake up after one shitty, shitty night and have no idea where the fuck you are?

Why is it so fucking cold in this room?

[patheticvillain]

More likely to get hit by a bus than what, hit by a truck full of Cheerios?

[He peers suspiciously at Mason and throws another marshmallow. Maybe the guy'll start catching them in his mouth.]

I mean, yeah, I have, but usually I remember my name at least.

It's because of the frost giants. They're coming.

[maced_eggs]

I knew a guy once who died when he was struck in the head by a flying fire hydrant. See, it's things like that that should make you grateful for every day you're alive, you punk little bitch.

[He squints again as the marshmallow bounces off his forehead, but only picks it off the table and eats it]

Cheers.

And I remember my name, all right? It's Mason. Fuck off with your fucking frost giants.

[patheticvillain]

I'm extremely grateful. [That's why he's making your life difficult.] You punk little bitch.

[The rest of the marshmallows go straight into Cassel's mouth, because fuck you, that's why. He arches his eyebrows in a way that he probably thinks is dramatic and interesting.]

Don't talk to the frost giants like that.

Cassel.

You're one of the biggest assholes I've ever met, you know that? Stealing a guy's cereal.

[maced_eggs]

And you are...are a marshmallow hoarder. Thassright. You, you take all your crumbly little marshmallows and you stuff them in your fat fucking face and leave nothing for the rest of us.

That's right. Live it up, Cassel. Enjoy your nommy little marshmallows.

[He begins to scoop up his own boxes, to make a little box fortress on top of the table]

[patheticvillain]

Thank you, I think I will. Because they're delicious. They're the best marshmallows I've ever had. I think they're more delicious because I'm denying them to you and crushing your happiness with every bite.

Yum.

[He eats another marshmallow.]

[Muahaha.]

[maced_eggs]

That was an extremely hurtful remark, Cassel. Do you purposely go 'round pissing on other people's doorsteps like that?

[patheticvillain]

Mm, only sometimes. When the doorstep is especially tempting.

[He pushes the half-empty box across the table with one finger.]

And then I give the doorstep a gift, because I'm a mysterious and fickle young man, full of whims. Happy birthday.

[maced_eggs]

[Mason's entire demeanor changes, as he gratefully scoops up the box and tilts his head back, downing the rest of it in record time. Man, is he ever hungry]


Aaaaaahhh.


[He opens and closes his mouth, smacking his teeth against the marshmallows]

Aumn nahm nahm. Nahm. That is good. That is delicious.

Marshmallows are the perfect little food.

[patheticvillain]

[God, that's gross. It's like watching a garbage disposal in action, only it's full of teeth and marshmallow pieces. Cassel makes a face.]

Well, I'm freaking delighted, then. I mean, you're not wrong. But. Eugh.

You're such a weirdo. When's the last time you even ate?

[maced_eggs]

[sticking his tongue inside the box, Mason wiggles it around to catch the last bits of pasty sugar from around the plastic bag]

Dunno. Pro'bly somewhere around last night, or last...morning, or something. I know I was in der fucking Waffle Haus but...


[He pauses, setting down the box, and looks deadly serious at Cassel, leaning forward to speak to him in a low tone]

Cassel.


It has recently come to my attention that I seem to have misplaced my trousers.


And I don't know what to do.

[patheticvillain]

[Why is he sitting with a man who is French kissing a cereal box. Cassel does not understand his life or his choices.]

[He stares at Mason with exhausted eyes. He needs coffee.]

I told you that, like, ten minutes ago.

I don't know. Go to your cabin and see if there are pants there? Or steal someone else's pants, since you love stealing stuff, apparently.

[maced_eggs]

[cringing down, Mason rubs at his throat, hugely embarrassed. He glances around to make sure he's not being stared at, before leaning over to whisper in Cassel's ear]

I don't remember which one's my cabin.

Can't you give me yours to borrow? Just for a bit? It's bloody cold in here.

[patheticvillain]

[Making a face, Cassel pushes Mason away by the forehead.]

I don't know, what do I get for it? That's assuming they even fit you, which, I don't know. You're taller than me.

[maced_eggs]

[Mason goes along with the head-push, setting his chin down on his forearms]

I will give you...my eternal gratitude.

And...be your slave for a day. Or somefink.

And I'll do my very best to get you laid by whatever passes for a girl on this fuckin' ship.

Please. I really do want pants.

[patheticvillain]

[Cassel laughs out loud, delighted despite himself, and shoves the remainder of his food aside.]

"Whatever passes for a girl," are you real? I don't want your help if that's what it sounds like.

Get up, dude, we're getting you some pants.

[maced_eggs]

Yes! Thank you. Thank you thank you.

[Mason climbs to his feet, grinning despite being almost totally naked]

Pants. Yes. Let's go. On our way. To the pants.

[patheticvillain]

Down the yellow brick road. Or fucking something.

[Cupping his hands around his mouth, Cassel hollers ahead of them to make way through the dining hall:] Half-naked asshole coming through! Get out of the way if you don't want to see some half-naked asshole!