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General Goose
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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
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((Getting out of here with Rash, this thread is getting confusing now.))

After emptying his bladder (Harun had been waiting a long time to do that), he returned back to the make-shift "camp site" to find everyone soundly asleep. They were sleeping far too soundly for people mixed up in a murder game.

Even if Harun hadn't already promised to keep watch, he was pretty much obliged to now. He was never one for rudely waking people up, he was too meek and shy for that, and admittedly he was probably the least tired out of all of them. Even if he did get tired...no biggie, he was used to all-nighters browsing the web, listening to the same album looping over and over again, only stopping to go to bed when he got too bored or when the threat of his parents waking up and lecturing him to death got too great. He was a natural at staying up doing pointless shit.

Of course, here, he had very little pointless shit to do aside from sitting around staring blankly into space scratching his ass, so within a few minutes, he was tired, bored and cranky, and resisting the urge to just rest his head on a tree-stump for five seconds and catch a little nap.

Luckily for Harun, throughout the night, nothing of interest happened. No surprise announcement, no crazed psychopath lusting for blood and/or supplies, no sudden slump into depression or madness, no surprise bear hungry for a Turkish desert to compliment his helping of Megan Nelson. The number of bullets in his sword-revolver (which was rapidly losing its novelty and badass status in Harun's eyes) remained the same as it was back in the mansion. Hell, none of his new companions even talked in their sleep.

Harun swore that one of them had a really irritating snore though.

And so, Harun just did stuff while waiting for the sun to rise, Danya's latest scheduled announcement of misery to start and his companions (most of which he'd never talked to much before) to stir. He listened to his music on his iPod (which had been safely lodged in the back pocket of Harun's jeans, where he'd forgotten it existed) until the battery began to get dangerously low. He took out one of those books he brought on every trip he went on in the hope of finally getting around to reading, but had never even opened the front cover up until then. It was alright, but not worth the long wait. And at one point, while particularly bored, edgy and fidgety, he went off to a blind-spot a short distance away from the group and "gratified" himself.

Yep, he'd needed that. Nice way to let off some steam.

By the time the sun came around, he had bags under his eyes, he was pining for his old life back in dull old Minnesota (he would kill, or at least cause mild bodily harm, for his shoddy old computer and a nice shower) and he had spent the last hour mentally debating the possibility of an afterlife. He felt worse than he'd ever felt in his entire life, and, if you wanted Harun's opinion, that was saying something. Yet, he was still alive, he was not gravely wounded, and he had not yet seen someone brutally murdered in front of his own eyes, so he was probably part of a very lucky minority.

Not that the fact he was relatively well-off made him feel any better.

Too tired and too depressed to pay much attention to the announcements as they played, he decided he'd ask Rashid for any key details later. Talking of Rashid, he was already up on his feet. Swinging his cumbersome bag onto his back, Harun walked past Rashid and began to leave the campsite. "Right, guys, I need to stretch my legs and there's no point in staying here. Let's get going, guys." With Rashid in tow, Harun left the clearing.

((Harun Kemal and Rashid Hassan continued in Keep On Smiling.))
Edited by General Goose, Jun 1 2011, 09:45 AM.
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Gypsy Rap · The Felled Forest: North