MCA #4, Sunday Afternoon

[myownface]

You know, Sparkle was impulsive, but he was not that special sort of impulsive that would have involved him going outside today. Much as he loved his job. Much as he worried about his business. Even Sparkle sometimes had the good sense to listen to the radio and hear about people being kidnapped by goblins, and then look out the window to see the sprawling maze that had sprouted up outside, and then shake his head and go, "Nope. Not today, Fandom."

And so he was in the apartment, laying on his back on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling and singing 'Baby Shark' to himself in a fit of boredom.

Loudly.

Give him ten minutes and he'd go find his tin whistle and try to figure out how to play it on that, next.

[OOC: Open for texts, phone calls, other people in the building who just want to stop hearing 'doo doo doo doo' through the walls, whatever!]

Comments

[suitably_heroic]

"Bet they're a delicacy on some planet," Atton retorted, "And it's rude to vomit on perfectly good meat of questionable origin, all right?"

[myownface]

Sparkle, who had, in fact, eaten meat of far more questionable origin before, was groaning and slumping backward. Not quite falling back onto his back on the floor, nah, but looking up at the ceiling like maybe it held the answer to all of his questions.

"Only if they didn't forget the cheese," he declared. "Then all bets are off."

[suitably_heroic]

"Everyone's a critic," Atton sighed. "You know how many wrong turns I had to take before I wound up there?"

[myownface]

"While looking for the bar, you mean?"

Look, if Sparkle saw an opening to take the piss, he was going to take it.

[suitably_heroic]

Atton threw up his arms.

"Do I not feed you?"

[myownface]

"Sure," Sparkle agreed. "Sometimes I get surprise burgers when you get lost!"

He loved you, Atton.

[suitably_heroic]

Atton threw a fry at him.

"You don't deserve burgers," he announced. "No burgers! Ever again!"

He'd forget about it by the morning.

[myownface]

Sparkle was so eating that fry.

"That's okay," Sparkle replied. "I'll just annoy you and then graze on whatever you turf at my head."

It was a valid survival plan, really.

[suitably_heroic]

"Ugh," Atton informed him. "You're just-- ugh!"

Stellar argument.

He chewed on a fry. "I hope you've been bored!"

It was his way of asking how you were doing, Sparkle!

[myownface]

"Mind-numbingly bored," Sparkle confirmed. "I think I've almost worked out a big band cover of Baby Shark in my head, is how bored I am. I was just working out the trumpets when you came in."

[suitably_heroic]

"Why not a metal cover?" Atton asked, predictably. "Nobody needs more big band. There's too much big band."

[myownface]

"Because I can't play guitar," Sparkle replied, shrugging.

Lewis played guitar. Sparkle had less than zero interest in going anywhere near the things.

"I guess I could go Vaudeville..."

[suitably_heroic]

"Now you're just making words up."

[myownface]

"Am not," Sparkle protested. "It's theatre stuff! You know, like, Ta-ra-ra BOOM-de-ay," he absolutely had to singsong that, "and the old Gene Austin and Roy Bergere stuff? Irving Berlin? Gallagher and Shean! I can't make this stuff up."

Well. He could. He had a very active imagination and a talent for bullshit.

But still!

[suitably_heroic]

"Sparkle," Atton said, slowly and deliberately, "You know I ignore all music made before 1980."

[myownface]

"So much for Led Zeppelin and Judas Priest, I guess," Sparkle said, shaking his head slowly. Sadly.

And... most of the best metal bands, really.

"RIP," he pronounced that, 'rip,' yes, "Black Sabbath..."

[suitably_heroic]

"1970, space!" Atton groaned, flopping backwards dramatically. "I can't keep up with your Earth years, anyway. How do you only have 2019 of them?"

[myownface]

"There were a bunch of ones that happened before those," Sparkle replied easily, finally digging one of those burgers from the bag, "but people didn't realize they were supposed to be counting backwards yet."

Looking at you, BBY.

[suitably_heroic]

Atton rolled his eyes. "Anyway," he said, "1980 is still extremely important, because that's when Lars Ulrich put that ad in the paper that James Hetfield responded to, which is infinitely more vital to all of your history than vaudewhatever."

Vaudeville. He remembered the name. That didn't mean he wanted to use it.

[myownface]

"I bet you ten bucks I could trace back metal's roots to Vaudeville somehow," Sparkle declared. "Just see if I can't."

Because art fed into art. Even if he was totally basing his claim on nothing more than his own need to be contrary.

[suitably_heroic]

"You definitely can't," Atton retorted. "I'll see that ten bucks and raise you twenty."

... look, it was looking to be a really boring Sunday.

[myownface]

"Thirty," Sparkle countered. And spent two seconds googling. And then glanced up and smirked. "Alice Cooper."

That was... painfully easy, actually.

[suitably_heroic]

"Yes, well, Alice Cooper is stupid," Atton said, after a long beat.

[myownface]

"But," Sparkle replied, "undeniably one of the earliest metal acts there was."

And distinctly Vaudevillian!

[suitably_heroic]

"I hate you," Atton muttered, but obligingly pulled a twenty and a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and threw them at Sparkle.