15 Jan 2007

In which lightsabres and towers lead to Clark's declaration of eating at the Y.

I really wish I had remembered/could remember what I was dreaming when I wrote that, because there is a significant probability it involved Ewan MacGregor and really? That's worth a memory.

Well, anything involving lightsaber problems is probably worth remembering.

Tower. Light sabre. Freud would have a field day. ;)

...
Well, now I'm a bit disturbed. ;)

Don't be. Obviously, this is where the Bruce/Richard came from. I can just see it now.

Richard: You have every damn thing in this utility belt but lightsabres.
Bruce: *grins* Funny you should mention that...

I actually just almost spit juice out my nose. That wins.

Richard: How do you have a lightsaber in your *belt*?!

Bruce:...Well, where does Gambit keep his bo staff?

*LMAO* THAT is the $62 million quesiton, isn't it?

Gambit: [drops by to leave their drinks] Don't ask if you don't want to know. But, it *chafes* something fierce sometime,s y'know?

::dies!::

Bruce: nods ruefully.

Richard: jaw drops.

Are we going to break *your* LJ for a change?

OMg, if we did I'd finally sit in the trendy table! Squee!

Gambit: Do you ever find that you gotta adjust... things when you sit down?

Brauce: [nods sagely] There was one board meeting when I thought I'd die of discomfort.

Bruce: Richard, why are you making noises like a dying cat? Stop hitting your head on the table.

Dude, you SET the trendy table.

Clark: I heard Richard in pain so I rushed in from the tsunami in... uh... why is he banging his head on the table?

Gambit: I think the caesar was too spicy for him,

Richard: Lightsabers! Bo staffs!

Clark: Where?

Richard: Brain bleach!!!

Gambit: Sad. You'd think someone who grew up in Europe would be able to hold his liquor better.

Bruce: He was exactly the same in college except they were vodka shooters.

Clark: I'm lost again. Can someone get me a beer?

Richard: I'm not drunk! I should be drunk. This conversation would make more sense if I were drunk--what vodka shooters?

Bruce: Maybe it has something to do with not getting nookie.

Clark: [glares] Don't look at me. Lois has been throwing things in my head for weeks now.

Gambit: [infatuated grin] It ain't love until they pitch a boysenberry pie at your head and then threaten to emasculate you with gardening shears.

HA! Somehow they always wind up in a bar exchanging banter about sex.

Richard: Can we please stop discussing my sex life? I still have very unpleasant mental images happening here. [stops and looks at Gambit] Boysenberry pie?

Gambit: [waggles eyebrows] Yes. It's a little advanced for you, hommes.

Clark: [totally clueless again] I like boysenberry pie.

Bruce: [headdesk] How did you survive high school?

Clark: ...I don't get it.

Richard: [pats his arm] I really think that's for the best.

Gambit: [boggles] Clark, you aren't still a member of the V-Club, are you?

Clark: Uh, actually, I go to the Y. They hav excellent running machines and, Bruce, why are you laughing at me again?

Richard: Would you two stop picking on him? [pats Clark's hand again] Clark, maybe it's best you just... stop talking.

Clark: What? I like the Y.

Gambit: Do you like eating at the Y? [sniggering]

Richard: Oh, you're just twelve, aren't you? Bruce, DON'T encourage him!

Bruce: [raises his hands off the table] I didn't say anything. I'm just here for the alcohol.

Clark: I don't think I've ever eaten at the Y. I didn't know they served food. Um... Remy, do you need help off the floor?

Richard: Bruce, shut up, don't you dare say a word.

Bruce: What? Remy's the one having an epileptic fit.

Clark: [looks at Remy] That's not epilepsy.

Richard: [bangs his head on the table]

Remy: Who needs drugs when you have Clark?