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Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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The internet was good for expression, totes. Who even knew where Irene would have been today without her definitely age-appropriate Tumblr? Or one of the many roleplay side blogs with poorly copy-pasted CSS formatting? Man, she was really gelling with what Noah was laying down. This had to be what they called real talk. Surely Golden Girls was a routine reference in twenty-first century discussions, right? Irene and Asimah had watched a few episodes of the old serial together, and Irene considered it as relevant as anything else she'd ever watched. That was to say, it probably wasn't relevant at all.

But ugh, that voice. Disjointed memories of Irene's beef wellington boiled over into the forefront of her brains, as the dull-ache of 'dammit Noah' returned to life. The bitch from Greenbean, Tennessee. Irene's mortal enemy, or at least one among many. The girl caught in the rain, Miss Pina Colada. At least she didn't look like an offensive stereotype yet, because was strikingly similar in appearance to Noah Whitley. But any moment now the makeup would be seeping in rivulets from the pores, she could already see it.

Man, and she was just getting into it to. Way to use a hackneyed crutch. The audience was laughing, but all Noah got from Irene's sector was a grumbles worth of booing and an evil eye. Lost in the crowd, probably, but at least the non-sent message existed. It wasn't about sending a message, it was about being unreasonably offended. Like, in theory, she got that Noah wasn't really doing anything especially off this time. Comedians pulled out the cheesy impressions all the time, not like she knew that, but it was at least fair proprietary even to the uninformed. She just really had a long-standing, deep-seated, old-as-the-Earth-and-Planck-epoch grudge over the nubile Bucket and her infuriatingly hilarious demeanor. Irene was still giggling, even. It was just a breathless, flushed, glare of a giggle.

"Heeey, Noaaaah. I want to start, um, one of those web shows. Be real famous and such."

Yeah, but your webshow suuuuucks. Irene did briefly relish the thought of being the lobber of the glass bottle of justice and eliminating an affront to her sensibilities in a shower of shiny and jagged particulates. But no, she wasn't really that kind of girl. Maybe if it were like in the old school Acme cartoons and all she'd do was inflict humorously non-factor injury upon him. Hey, was that a witty observation? Irene bet she could have taken the stage with the mental comedy running a marathon through her brain at that moment. She definitely would have left the audience breathless.

"Let's just say I'm exploring options in case the comedy thing doesn't work out."

Aaaaaand there goes the innuendo, soaring overhead and leaving contrails for conspiracy theorists for decades to come. Noah definitely had the audience, the room was pretty warm, but Irene felt absolute zero. Only a warped sense of stubborn obligation kept her butt welded to her chair with brackets and rivets. The bartender idly asked if she wanted anything else, she brusquely brushed him off with an irate grunt, leading him to shrug off the suddenly rude blonde.
V7

V6 - Like you imagined when you... were young...
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Airline Food · Cheryl's