yucca_isnt_porn: (:D)
[personal profile] yucca_isnt_porn
For the past few weeks since the events of chip that doesn't exist, Mother has been a bit more of himself. He's been watching everything that goes on outside of his apartment and the office like some kind of kid skulking by the christmas tree with the clunky family camcorder and a pot of coffee hoping to see either Santa or the Martians dropping off a christmas present.

Actually, the office probably doesn't need the 40 something geek propped up on his elbows with various video cameras watching the streets like a constipated hawk... And they probably haven't needed it for the past few days either.

But thank GOD finally, Darryl 'Mother' Roskow has passed out at the window after pulling several all-nighters.

Date: 2008-09-28 05:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Whistler is familiar with the rhythms of a sleeper's breath, which is why he's thoughtfully turning a Sharpie marker over and over in one hand.

"Whistler. No," says Crease from across the room.

"Oh, come on, Crease-"

"I said no." There's a pause. "You'll wake him up halfway through."

"Okay, point, but still-"

Date: 2008-09-28 05:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] abar-starclog.livejournal.com
Carl's working on a coding experiment - but everyone needs to glance away from the screen every now and then, and with so many windows in the office, it's only natural that he'd look out the window.
Just in time to see an official-looking black car lead a Winnebago up the street.
"...Guys? Better idea. Who wants to go collect the keys to his present?"

Date: 2008-09-28 05:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sime-channel.livejournal.com
"I could keep him asleep." Suzi offers, swinging her feet. She's perched on Whistler's worktable.

Date: 2008-09-28 05:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Whistler cocks his head at Suzi, grinning; Crease just shakes his head and gets up. "I'll handle it," he says. "You people just..."

He looks at Mother a moment.

"... keep him asleep, why don't you," Crease suddenly finishes. "I think we all owe Mother a little something extra after what he's been putting us through."

Date: 2008-09-28 05:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] abar-starclog.livejournal.com
"Oh, of course."
So Carl goes back to his work... but he's grinning like a loon. The office pastime is best when everyone gets in on it.

Date: 2008-09-28 05:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Whistler, for his part, is just going to put down that sharpie and casually mosey on over to open up that tape recorder of Mother's, and then the video cameras, and switch out the tapes for blanks.

It's the personal touch that makes these things work the way they do.

Date: 2008-09-28 05:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] abar-starclog.livejournal.com
"...You know, if most of us aren't here when he wakes up, it'll be even more entertaining."
And they can turn one of Mother's own cameras against him, just to make sure everyone's in on it. Tricky part's going to be making sure they get the right tape out afterward.

Date: 2008-09-28 05:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
"I think we can handle that," says Whistler. "Is Crease nearly done yet?"

Date: 2008-09-28 05:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] abar-starclog.livejournal.com
"Just about, looks like."
Carl heads over to the camera bank, turns a couple of them around (there's never anything wrong with multiple angles), and makes himself scarce. He can at least write down his thoughts on the coding experiment, to pass the time.

Date: 2008-09-28 05:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sime-channel.livejournal.com
Suzi flees as well. Lying plus Sime doesn't work well.

Date: 2008-09-28 06:00 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Crease returns to the room, smiling like a man who has just discovered his worst enemy has forgotten a winning lottery ticket at McDonald's. Silently he creeps over to slide the keys into Mother's hand, or at least the vicinity of Mother's hand; then he signals to Carl to get Whistler out of the room, and backs up towards the door. He has an IDEA.

Date: 2008-09-28 06:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
It takes a better part of fifteen minutes before Mother wakes up with a twitch and a start.

"...ssnorrrkkhuhwhuh?"

Date: 2008-09-28 06:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Crease is panting just a little bit, rather as if he'd only just run up the stairs. "Mother," he says tensely. "Mother, are you all right?"

Date: 2008-09-28 06:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
"...Yes... ...I'm fine, why?"

...Mother's just going to be a teeeeeensy bit worried right now.

Date: 2008-09-28 06:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
"I was downstairs getting the mail," says Crease, "and I heard a noise from up here. Footsteps. More than one person..."

Date: 2008-09-28 06:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
"WHAT?!"

He was drugged, people were in here, Zed mindwiped him again, oh god check the camcorders they'll show...

NOTHING.

"Aaaiiiigh...."

Date: 2008-09-28 06:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
"Mother, what's that between the cushions there?" Crease says, gesturing towards where the keys fell from Mother's hand into the couch.

It happens roughly at the same moment that Whistler triggers a certain remote control and down in the street a Winnebago horn blares out the central riff of "Hot Legs", by Rod Stewart.

Date: 2008-09-28 06:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
WHAT IS THAT.

SERIOUSLY WHAT IS THAT OH MY GOD IT'S

"IT'S FUCKING GORGEOUS!"

Date: 2008-09-28 06:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Crease dashes to the window and stares out with all the shock due a completely unexpected sight. "Jesus Christ, Mother!" he exclaims. "Is that thing yours?"

Date: 2008-09-28 06:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
"AHAAHAHAAHAAAA!!" Judging from the way that Mother is hopping up and down and flailing around with his arms like a winged monkey on pixy sticks...

Yes, that monstrosity is his.

"...wait, when did it get here?!?!"

Date: 2008-09-28 06:33 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
"It wasn't there when I was getting the mail, that's for sure," says Crease. "I would've noticed."

Is he going to have to dig the shiny objects out of the cushions himself?

Date: 2008-09-28 06:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
"...oh man I didn't even get documentation they got my camera--."

Crease, please be dodging the man diving for the couch cushions. Mother's just praying they didn't find and raid his stash of blackmail material.

Date: 2008-09-28 06:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Yeah, he's getting out of the way as fast as he can. He's seen Mother move. It's frightening.

"Watch your hands!" he warns. "If the government's sending ninjas you don't want to stick them on anything!"

Date: 2008-09-28 06:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
"Whuh?"

Oh, ofcourse you'd say that just as he had his hand elbow deep inside of one of those cushions taking out a packet of photos, before the car keys fall to the floor with a clink.

"AIIIIEEEE!"

Date: 2008-09-28 06:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
For maximum effect, Crease slips a pen out of one pocket and uses it to scoop the keys up with tremendous care and not actual touching.

There may be sinister jingling, if he can manage it.

Date: 2008-09-28 06:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
Uh, yeh.

The being known as Mother was once in front of the couch digging out his photos of a cream-pied Zed.

The being known as Mother is now on the other side of that couch and peering up warily over the edge of it.

Date: 2008-09-28 06:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
"I think," says Crease carefully, with great focus on the keys (because if he looks at Mother he's going to crack), "that these are for you."

Date: 2008-09-28 06:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
"Ableeburrleimooooo...."

Yeh. If those ARE for him... Oh god the ninjas. But they're for him. They're for the RV, which is why Mother is very tentatively reaching for the keys.

"Ninjas. government ninjas.....why did it have to be ninjas..."

Date: 2008-09-28 06:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Crease tilts the pen so they slide off into Mother's hand, then backs away. "Couldn't tell you," he says. "Maybe you'd better go and check that thing out, just to be certain."

Date: 2008-09-28 06:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] yucca-isnt-porn.livejournal.com
"..." There is an eyeing of Crease and then the keys are clutched like a cave-dwelling former hobbit does to his precious and Mother bolts to the window and then out the door.

"YOU PUNKS GET AWAY FROM MY RIDE!"

Date: 2008-09-28 06:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dontlooklisten.livejournal.com
Crease is staying right where he is.

This is because he's laughing himself sick for the camera.

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