tushanshu | video.

[Good evening chelonauts, tonight you are being treated to the fine sight of one (1) bruised and somewhat bloody Ant-Man looking far more annoyed than he has looked his entire stay on this turtle. There are scrapes and cuts all over his face and his mouth is a thin line that is barely visible until he opens it to speak.]

Heads up: if any of you guys see a rooster that looks like it's been fused with a telephone box, do me a huge favor and run, not walk, in the opposite direction if you want to wake up tomorrow with still ten fingers. [He hasn't lost any of his own yet but it's only a matter of time.] I don't think there's another one of these Frankenchickens out there but just in case.

[There's long-suffering sigh and he's about to say more when he immediately gets drowned out by the rooster rattling around in its makeshift cage and crowing its little cybernetic head off. At the rate things are going, that cage ain't gonna hold it much longer and then fingers are actually going to be lost.

Scott turns and attempts to shush the rooster several times, but since the rooster listens to him about as well as everyone else does (which is to say not at all), he finally gives up and just ignores the damn thing, pinching his nose in exasperation.]

Anyone have any extra bandages? And maybe a flamethrower? You'll get paid back in chicken patties.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Have the know-how but not the with-what-how. But I'll make do.

[aka being poor is suffering.]

Are you sure? How many fingers do you have?
[Look he wants to help (for reasons Scott will not approve of)]

Edited 2013-09-02 01:14 (UTC)

[At this point Scott will approve of just about anything and anyone so long as their name is not John Colby, USDA.]

Are we counting the one that's about to fall off?

[hehehe ahem]

Thumbs too. If you have them. If you don't? Sorry, you might've devolved.

[okay as much as he would like to make snarky commentary back to that, his fingers are in pain and there is a feral cyborg in his suite. So. Short and to the point.]

So no bazooka?

Sorry, man. They're reserved for more than a feral cyborg chicken.

[Damn. Well, he tried.]

Can I hit you up if there's ever a feral cyborg trex?

Don't you mean when? I suppose it's the least I can do for a guy with a feral cyborg chicken problem. it's Joe.

[..............................knowing his luck, it probably would be when. dammit, jason.]

thanks joe, will do.

[in the meantime he needs to go cart a crazy cyborg chicken back to its owner so he'll be hanging up for now.]

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