poly_chromatic | 014 - And Etcetera And Etcetera

[The feed snaps on to a shot of Karl. He looks perfectly neat and well-dressed. Sane, even. But his left eyebrow keeps twitching. Pursing his lips, he tosses his hair back from his eyes, and opens his mouth. Anyone who knows Karl expects him to break into a spiteful rant about 'Puny Humans' or 'The Worthless City'. Perhaps a charming comment about blood, entrails, dead babies, and the joys therein.]

[Instead, what emerges is:]

AY, YO - WHAT THE FUCK'S WRONG WIT' CHOO, CITY? Don' be tryin' no bubble-poppin'; you bitches gon' be balled up! Ya gots 'til midnight to set me straight, and I'ma low it. Else I'ma put that smack-a-lackin' on ya. We straight thug nasty. We ain't taking shit from nobody, ya' mean?
...

[Pause. Blink. Scowl. His left eyebrow twitches worse.]

Bravo, City.

How am I supposed to conduct any business, if even I don't understand what I'm saying? Unless there are translators who understand this gibberish.

[Reaching to shut off the device.]

If there are any, I demand your services for today. Until then - peace out, yo. Keep it trill.

[And he nearly brings up two fingers to make deuces, before catching himself with a smothered growl. Wow. Look at his eyebrow twitch. Muttering between gritted teeth, Karl snaps the device shut. Translators, feel free to get in touch!]

[OOC; Hit with Lost in Translation, Karl is cursed to spit disses like a Gangsta. (Or maybe a Wanksta?) He has no clue what half the words spilling out of his mouth mean. And it's weirding the eff out of him. Help a vampire out, City! :|b]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A look that clearly states, 'of course you can', before scoffing.]

And why would I be a toad?

Das was all up in 'em fairytales, bay.

Would you rather be the princess who has to kiss the toads?

You have not met my late husband.

Was he full of slime and warts? Or simply prone to catching flies with his tongue?

A drunken oaf.

Hecky naw. Man, dat's some bunk-ass shit right there.

[AHEM.]

My condolences.

I'm sure the greatest favor he bestowed upon you was by dying.

Bunk-ass?

[Half of the things he is stating, she cannot fathom.

Demurely. Of course she could care less about her husband, but still, appearances.]

He could have waited until his son was grown and able to rule.

Dis shiznit's got me buggin', ma. Dis keeps up, I'ma cap some muthafucka's ass, ya feel me?

...

I haven't the slightest clue what this rubbish is. But apparently there are some sad creatures here who understand it.

Ah, but he left his posterity in the hands of a perfectly capable mother, I'm sure.

Is that so? I can only assume he was dropped upon his head as a child. More like than not, it will account for it.

I'm afraid my lord husband was not one for the finer points of ruling to begin with. So yes. Quite capable.

Well then.

His loss was surely your sizable gain.

Why, it almost sounds as if you are painting me in a different light than what actually is.

Perish the thought.

Unless you did indeed have something to hide?

I would be lying if I said no. After all, a lady does like to keep some of her secrets.

Fasheazy, bay.

...

True enough. But the lady must make certain they're well kept. Else those secrets could easily be her undoing.

[A smile. Yet, there is little warmth to it. Rather, an almost snide nature to it.]

But of course. Unfortunately some are not as well versed as others in doing so.

Was your late husband on such example?

My late husband was not a lady.

~I think you know what I mean.

Do I?

That conclusion, Madame, is for you to make.

Then I shall make it.

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