I haven't posted anything here in a really long time and I've been kinda skimpy on Twitter updates. I figured I should let you guys know what's up.
First, I'm allied with Vadiir.
Let that sink in for a second.
No joke. I apologized to him, sincerely, for everything I'd done. I figured he'd just tell me it didn't matter how I felt or that it was far too late or something. The last thing I was expecting was for him to accept it and stop chasing me. He even checked in on me through Twitter. Told me not to die before my time. "Or I'll make you regret it." That's probably the nicest thing he's ever said to me. I had a dopey grin for a long time after that, and I haven't been doing much grinning lately.
This leads me to my next update. We know how to make Theurgic Bombs now. Y'know, like the ones that royally fucked up Cardiff in the best possibly way. Vadiir gave me instructions over Twitter and Alexis confirmed it. Meaning we can create Theurgic Voids and un-Choose ourselves if we want. We currently lack some of the materials, however. In the meantime, we're working on plans of what to do when we have them.
Oh, also, we're in France. Why France, you ask? Why not? Really, we're just kind of roaming the earth. I've always wanted to visit the Bastille, too. I love it. Always have. It's a symbol of resistance, and that's exactly what I'm doing right now. Resisting. Besides, I was born on Bastille Day! July 14th! It's perfect, no?
Hey, that's coming up pretty quick here, isn't it?
Celebrating my birthday on the run. Oh joy.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Quick Update
So I figured I'd check in and let you guys know I'm still alive for the moment.
We finally managed to pick up Nein and we're all traveling together now.
We're like a hilariously dysfunctional little family. Grandpa hasn't hit her with the shillelagh yet, but that's because of my careful warnings to her. He's gotten /very/ close to it, though.
We spent yesterday at Six Flags. Shit was so cash. All of us snuck in. So, free admission! And we went all all the fastest and scariest rides. Grandpa said they were tame and in his day they didn't have fancy roller coasters and blah blah blah old people stuff. Except he said it with a grin on his face that said "I'm annoying the hell out of you two and you won't say anything about it because you don't want to hurt my feelings or get hit with a shillelagh". You'd be amazed by how much of his old Catholic Irishman act is fake.
So anyway. Good day, not dead, not proxified. Still running, still miserable, Sick, and in constant terror, but it's getting a little better. It isn't good, not by a long shot, but it's...less awful. Maybe one day it'll even be bearable. I doubt if it'll ever be okay, but it's...better.
We finally managed to pick up Nein and we're all traveling together now.
We're like a hilariously dysfunctional little family. Grandpa hasn't hit her with the shillelagh yet, but that's because of my careful warnings to her. He's gotten /very/ close to it, though.
We spent yesterday at Six Flags. Shit was so cash. All of us snuck in. So, free admission! And we went all all the fastest and scariest rides. Grandpa said they were tame and in his day they didn't have fancy roller coasters and blah blah blah old people stuff. Except he said it with a grin on his face that said "I'm annoying the hell out of you two and you won't say anything about it because you don't want to hurt my feelings or get hit with a shillelagh". You'd be amazed by how much of his old Catholic Irishman act is fake.
So anyway. Good day, not dead, not proxified. Still running, still miserable, Sick, and in constant terror, but it's getting a little better. It isn't good, not by a long shot, but it's...less awful. Maybe one day it'll even be bearable. I doubt if it'll ever be okay, but it's...better.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Down With the Sickness and Chaotic Neutrality
It rained today. Well, that's charitable. More like it sprinkled off and on. Summer rains and whatnot.
So, being the defiant little wannabe Time Lord I am, I went out and sat around in the rain whenever it started up. I've always liked rain, it's so mesmerizing. I've just never been particularly fond of getting soaked in my clothes. Jeans and sneakers don't exactly dry well, and that's what I'm almost invariably wearing.
So I sat out there in the rain, and I'm sure I was quite a magnificent sight. A small-statured sixteen year old girl with bags under her eyes and paranoia and despair in them, in a TARDIS t-shirt and soaked to the bone sitting cross-legged on the ground or pacing about, glancing around nervously wherever she was. I probably looked like a newly stray, lost little dog - which is more or less what I am now, I guess.
It was nice. The rain, its monotonous rhythm and the cool drops on a hot day made me feel better than I have in a while, very calming. After a while though, the raindrops started to sting. It wasn't because it had started raining harder, no, it was still barely sprinkling. It was the water itself hurting me. It wasn't bad, only barely noticeable, but it means that my Sickness is getting worse. And this doesn't really bode well, given my current strategy of not getting slaughtered by Vadiir involves a lot of water. Given my condition, Grandpa can't teach me any major Theurgy, and I have yet to really figure out how to use any of his Relics to my advantage. He hasn't told me what half of them are, in any case, let alone what they do. Or which of the things in that chest are even Relics; there's a bunch of conventional weapons in there too. Knives, guns, explosives...leftovers from the Troubles, indeed.
I noticed something else, too. I don't even have a shred of neutrality left. I publicly sided with the Circle that one time, but that was just so they wouldn't break off contact. I was never on their side, I realize that now. I was always on Mark and his father's side. Moral code at work. But I had friends in that Commune...well, that's probably a charitable term. I like to think we were friends, though...but it doesn't matter anymore, does it? In any case, I tried to be neutral. In fact as well as position. I really did. I sat on a fence for so long, staying shifty to save my own hide. And, as it turns out, I was doing the exact opposite of what I should have been doing. My constant dissenting on both sides, my jokes and snarkiness, my not caring what they thought of me...but, I'm the Jester. It's my job to do all of that... But. It doesn't matter anymore. They told me it was war and that you couldn't stay neutral in war. Even for those like me who would rather conscientiously object than anything. It turns out that if you don't choose sides, one is chosen for you. Or, in this case, you're Chosen for a side, heh. They Chose me to be on their side. I didn't want to be. So I'm on the run. I had my side Chosen for me.
I'm against them, and I'm against their boss. I've always been against their boss.
They may change my mind at some point, but if they do, it won't be me you'll be talking to. Remember my true allegiance, because the Doctor and Hanna may be one and the same, but neither of us are [proxy name they chose for me that I refuse to repeat because FUCK THAT SHIT].
So, I offer you some advice.
Neutrality's awesome, but not here. Not with these guys.
Pick a side. Always be indisputably on one side or the other.
Because if you don't, you may not like where you end up.
This is war.
Pick a side.
And please pick the right one.
So, being the defiant little wannabe Time Lord I am, I went out and sat around in the rain whenever it started up. I've always liked rain, it's so mesmerizing. I've just never been particularly fond of getting soaked in my clothes. Jeans and sneakers don't exactly dry well, and that's what I'm almost invariably wearing.
So I sat out there in the rain, and I'm sure I was quite a magnificent sight. A small-statured sixteen year old girl with bags under her eyes and paranoia and despair in them, in a TARDIS t-shirt and soaked to the bone sitting cross-legged on the ground or pacing about, glancing around nervously wherever she was. I probably looked like a newly stray, lost little dog - which is more or less what I am now, I guess.
It was nice. The rain, its monotonous rhythm and the cool drops on a hot day made me feel better than I have in a while, very calming. After a while though, the raindrops started to sting. It wasn't because it had started raining harder, no, it was still barely sprinkling. It was the water itself hurting me. It wasn't bad, only barely noticeable, but it means that my Sickness is getting worse. And this doesn't really bode well, given my current strategy of not getting slaughtered by Vadiir involves a lot of water. Given my condition, Grandpa can't teach me any major Theurgy, and I have yet to really figure out how to use any of his Relics to my advantage. He hasn't told me what half of them are, in any case, let alone what they do. Or which of the things in that chest are even Relics; there's a bunch of conventional weapons in there too. Knives, guns, explosives...leftovers from the Troubles, indeed.
I noticed something else, too. I don't even have a shred of neutrality left. I publicly sided with the Circle that one time, but that was just so they wouldn't break off contact. I was never on their side, I realize that now. I was always on Mark and his father's side. Moral code at work. But I had friends in that Commune...well, that's probably a charitable term. I like to think we were friends, though...but it doesn't matter anymore, does it? In any case, I tried to be neutral. In fact as well as position. I really did. I sat on a fence for so long, staying shifty to save my own hide. And, as it turns out, I was doing the exact opposite of what I should have been doing. My constant dissenting on both sides, my jokes and snarkiness, my not caring what they thought of me...but, I'm the Jester. It's my job to do all of that... But. It doesn't matter anymore. They told me it was war and that you couldn't stay neutral in war. Even for those like me who would rather conscientiously object than anything. It turns out that if you don't choose sides, one is chosen for you. Or, in this case, you're Chosen for a side, heh. They Chose me to be on their side. I didn't want to be. So I'm on the run. I had my side Chosen for me.
I'm against them, and I'm against their boss. I've always been against their boss.
They may change my mind at some point, but if they do, it won't be me you'll be talking to. Remember my true allegiance, because the Doctor and Hanna may be one and the same, but neither of us are [proxy name they chose for me that I refuse to repeat because FUCK THAT SHIT].
So, I offer you some advice.
Neutrality's awesome, but not here. Not with these guys.
Pick a side. Always be indisputably on one side or the other.
Because if you don't, you may not like where you end up.
This is war.
Pick a side.
And please pick the right one.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Current thoughts
Yeah, that song? Currently how I'm feeling, thanks to Stripey and the rest of the Shankill Butchers. (No, you're not getting a choice in being called that.) But I'm not so bad as to be at "21 Guns" though. Yet.
Oh yeah, ran into Vadiir again last night. This time I grabbed him before leaping into a river and I dragged him in with me. Turns out that water is really bad for the Chosen. It hasn't started affecting me yet, but it got to him immediately. He managed to get out of the water pretty quickly, so I'm doubting it killed him. Shame. Or not, I'm having the same conundrum the Master had when he had the Doctor in a wheelchair. YouTube search "The Master Can't Decide" if I've lost you. (The /real/ Master, by the way, the Time Lord, not some skinny bitch who thinks incorrectly that he owns my soul. Oh, new nickname? Everyone start referring to Slendy as Skinnybitch. It would certainly cheer me up.)
Also, they're gonna make me an Enforcer if they catch me. I still can't figure that one out.
So, my choices at this point are:
A) Join the Commune
B) Run forever, or until I'm 27, in constant terror and danger
C) Fight back and no doubt lose
D) Get murdered by Vadiir
E) Suicide (better to die than be killed)
F) This is all just a dream. INCEPTION.
G) Cake
H) Vote Saxon
As usual, the last three aren't really options, as much as I wish they were. But I'll eat cake and vote Saxon anyway, those dirtbags can't stop me!
...the Doctor would run until he had to fight, and Ash Williams would fight and have won in a matter of minutes, but I'm starting to grasp the differences between reality and fiction. Also, I'm neither Ash nor a Time Lord.
So, guys. What would you do?
(Oh, and Stripey? I don't really like hugs from people I /like/. And I despise you with every fiber of my being. Just keep in mind that, if you try to hug me, I will drop my moral code and stab you as many times as possible. Just so we're clear on that.)
Oh yeah, ran into Vadiir again last night. This time I grabbed him before leaping into a river and I dragged him in with me. Turns out that water is really bad for the Chosen. It hasn't started affecting me yet, but it got to him immediately. He managed to get out of the water pretty quickly, so I'm doubting it killed him. Shame. Or not, I'm having the same conundrum the Master had when he had the Doctor in a wheelchair. YouTube search "The Master Can't Decide" if I've lost you. (The /real/ Master, by the way, the Time Lord, not some skinny bitch who thinks incorrectly that he owns my soul. Oh, new nickname? Everyone start referring to Slendy as Skinnybitch. It would certainly cheer me up.)
Also, they're gonna make me an Enforcer if they catch me. I still can't figure that one out.
So, my choices at this point are:
A) Join the Commune
B) Run forever, or until I'm 27, in constant terror and danger
C) Fight back and no doubt lose
D) Get murdered by Vadiir
E) Suicide (better to die than be killed)
F) This is all just a dream. INCEPTION.
G) Cake
H) Vote Saxon
As usual, the last three aren't really options, as much as I wish they were. But I'll eat cake and vote Saxon anyway, those dirtbags can't stop me!
...the Doctor would run until he had to fight, and Ash Williams would fight and have won in a matter of minutes, but I'm starting to grasp the differences between reality and fiction. Also, I'm neither Ash nor a Time Lord.
So, guys. What would you do?
(Oh, and Stripey? I don't really like hugs from people I /like/. And I despise you with every fiber of my being. Just keep in mind that, if you try to hug me, I will drop my moral code and stab you as many times as possible. Just so we're clear on that.)
Thursday, June 2, 2011
My grandfather...
...is absolutely, utterly, and entirely insane.
And he's brilliant.
No wonder he joined our little ragtag group. He was nuts enough to come with us and badass enough to help greatly. (Note: he whacked me with the damned shillelagh for swearing (that's twice now))
Of course, he's already made enemies with Stripes, but that's expected.
I think we may actually have a shot at victory.
Just maybe.
And he's brilliant.
No wonder he joined our little ragtag group. He was nuts enough to come with us and badass enough to help greatly. (Note: he whacked me with the damned shillelagh for swearing (that's twice now))
Of course, he's already made enemies with Stripes, but that's expected.
I think we may actually have a shot at victory.
Just maybe.
Promising to Die for Ireland
Yes, the title is an Angela's Ashes reference. If you haven't read it, do so please, it's amazing.
Anyway. Stripey made me realize something yesterday. Our email conversation before I really started my getaway led to a Harry Potter metaphor when I said that my policy with the mask was the same as how the trio handled the locket Horcrux in the last book. And the metaphor really works in a lot of ways, too, not the least of which being that I'm a Chosen one. Get it?
Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked again. I asked him where my Dumbledore was and he said that he'd killed him and Voorhees ate the body. Well, I realized that I have never really had a Dumbledore, and could really use one in my current situation. But who do I know that's so wise and can teach me things to help out against all those hell-bent on my destruction?
Then I remembered that my grandfather is a former member of the freaking IRA. He kept all his memorabilia, too. Including his weapons. A burglar tried to rob him a few years back. Grandpa shot him in the chest before the guy knew he was there.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Goodness, Doc, the Irish Republican Army was a group of terrorists! Wouldn't associating yourself with them - and using their tactics, no less - go completely against that moral code, you know, one of the main reasons you refused to join the Commune in the first place?"
First off, FREEDOM FIGHTERS FOR THE GLORY OF THE GREATEST NATION ON TH' FACE O' TH' EARTH, not terrorists. If you ask Grandpa, at least. Second, I don't have many more options left. Even I can't run forever. Not like this, anyway.
So we showed up at his house this morning. He opened the door only a crack, as he always does, and when he saw me his one visible eye widened. "Jaysus, Hanna, what happened to ye? Ye look like hell!" So he let us in and I explained the whole situation. He just took it in solemnly, nodding every now and again. After I finished, he said, "Och. I was hoping ye wouldn't get wrapped up with these guys, you were always such a nice and peace-lovin' girl..."
"You...wait, you know about these guys?! Why haven't you said anything?!"
"Och, aye, I'll tell you all about it later. Right now we need to get packed and outta here. An' we'll be takin' my vehicle, your puny little thing is ruddy worthless for combat 'n holdin' th' supplies we'll need 'n all sorts o' odder things..."
The friend I have codenamed Liz, who happens to own the car, didn't like that. "Hey! My car is awesome! It's gotten us this far, it'll go forever!"
He just gave her an amused look. "You won't survive long in a war with that attitude, lassie. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes, an' if ye don't like it, you can see if th' enemy's any better."
That shut her up. Which was kind of amazing, because usually nothing shuts her up when she's mad but the other person's surrender. Of course, my grandpa's still in great shape. He could destroy a lot of guys less than half his age in a fair fight if he needed to. Which is good for our sakes.
So we moved our stuff to his vehicle, which happens to be a modified truck of some sort, and he grabbed some stuff for himself to pack. Among his luggage is a crate that, when asked what it contains, he'll only give us a devilish grin.
He's promised to teach us how to fight back as best as he can and as fast as he can. And he, in turn, made me promise that, in the ("rather likely") event of his death, I'm to scatter his ashes back home in Ireland.
We're back on the move now. Grandpa's happier than I've ever seen him. Crazy old bastard.
Anyway. Stripey made me realize something yesterday. Our email conversation before I really started my getaway led to a Harry Potter metaphor when I said that my policy with the mask was the same as how the trio handled the locket Horcrux in the last book. And the metaphor really works in a lot of ways, too, not the least of which being that I'm a Chosen one. Get it?
Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked again. I asked him where my Dumbledore was and he said that he'd killed him and Voorhees ate the body. Well, I realized that I have never really had a Dumbledore, and could really use one in my current situation. But who do I know that's so wise and can teach me things to help out against all those hell-bent on my destruction?
Then I remembered that my grandfather is a former member of the freaking IRA. He kept all his memorabilia, too. Including his weapons. A burglar tried to rob him a few years back. Grandpa shot him in the chest before the guy knew he was there.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Goodness, Doc, the Irish Republican Army was a group of terrorists! Wouldn't associating yourself with them - and using their tactics, no less - go completely against that moral code, you know, one of the main reasons you refused to join the Commune in the first place?"
First off, FREEDOM FIGHTERS FOR THE GLORY OF THE GREATEST NATION ON TH' FACE O' TH' EARTH, not terrorists. If you ask Grandpa, at least. Second, I don't have many more options left. Even I can't run forever. Not like this, anyway.
So we showed up at his house this morning. He opened the door only a crack, as he always does, and when he saw me his one visible eye widened. "Jaysus, Hanna, what happened to ye? Ye look like hell!" So he let us in and I explained the whole situation. He just took it in solemnly, nodding every now and again. After I finished, he said, "Och. I was hoping ye wouldn't get wrapped up with these guys, you were always such a nice and peace-lovin' girl..."
"You...wait, you know about these guys?! Why haven't you said anything?!"
"Och, aye, I'll tell you all about it later. Right now we need to get packed and outta here. An' we'll be takin' my vehicle, your puny little thing is ruddy worthless for combat 'n holdin' th' supplies we'll need 'n all sorts o' odder things..."
The friend I have codenamed Liz, who happens to own the car, didn't like that. "Hey! My car is awesome! It's gotten us this far, it'll go forever!"
He just gave her an amused look. "You won't survive long in a war with that attitude, lassie. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes, an' if ye don't like it, you can see if th' enemy's any better."
That shut her up. Which was kind of amazing, because usually nothing shuts her up when she's mad but the other person's surrender. Of course, my grandpa's still in great shape. He could destroy a lot of guys less than half his age in a fair fight if he needed to. Which is good for our sakes.
So we moved our stuff to his vehicle, which happens to be a modified truck of some sort, and he grabbed some stuff for himself to pack. Among his luggage is a crate that, when asked what it contains, he'll only give us a devilish grin.
He's promised to teach us how to fight back as best as he can and as fast as he can. And he, in turn, made me promise that, in the ("rather likely") event of his death, I'm to scatter his ashes back home in Ireland.
We're back on the move now. Grandpa's happier than I've ever seen him. Crazy old bastard.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Given the events of the week, I'd pretty much forgotten that I have more problems than just the Iowa Commune to worry about.
Specifically the fact that they weren't they only proxies I'd pissed off with negative consequences for me.
I'm referring of course to MT. Or rather, Vadiir. Or The Artist Formerly Known As MT.
You know, that guy I had no shred of hope of encountering and leaving with my life. Before he knew fire Theurgy. Oh yeah, did you know that? He knows goddamned fiery magic. Oh, and he had a short range teleporty thingy with him courtesy of Stripes. This bodes well for me, eh?
Now, I know what you're wondering. "Oh my goodness, Doctor, this guy certainly is tough! Surely you couldn't defeat him and the teleporter would make him nigh-inescapable! How EVER did you manage to use your endless wiles to your advantage and manage to survive such a harrowing encounter?"
Simple. I did something almost as likely to kill me as our fiery friend.
"But Doctor, how could something so deadly save your life?"
Well, I won't give you a play-by-play this time, we all saw what happens when I try that. So, to save you from reading a novel and to save me from typing one when I should be doing other things - like sleeping, if I can manage it - I'll just tell you how it ended.
It ended with me, with several newly acquired gashes and ON FIRE, jumping off a bridge into a river all while screaming "ALLONS-Y!" (Not "Geronimo". Tennant's still cooler, Stripeypants.)
That's right. I jumped off a bridge into a river while on fire. Maybe you should start calling me "Captain" instead of Doctor, savvy? Heheh.
Surface tension is some pretty amazing stuff, too. I owe a few broken ribs to it. Once I hit the water, I was paralyzed underwater for a few seconds and when I finally broke the surface I was somewhere entirely different. Also, I was soaked and dead tired and hurt pretty badly, so my swimming wasn't exactly strong. I managed to grab a log and float downstream until I washed ashore. I coughed, I sputtered, I shook, and I collapsed. And I saw that thrice-damned mask, still hanging by a chain from my beltloop. Grinning back at me. Mocking me. So I tried to destroy it again in a ragefit until I decided to ragequit and spent the next several standard units of time curled up in a ball clutching my head.
I called my buds and gave them directions. They showed up a while ago to pick me up. My various burns, cuts, and fractures have been attended to as best as we can. I hurt like hell, everywhere.
We're on the move once again. I'm lying in the backseat, watching out the window. It's the beginning of spring, and yet there's already corn sprouted everywhere. I used to hate it with a passion, it was EVERYWHERE, it was my home state. It was everything boring about my life.
What I wouldn't give now to just get lost in a cornfield and never come out. No chases, no knives, no fire. Just corn. I miss the boring.
Right. I'm going to try and get some restful sleep for once, god knows I need it. Talk to ya later, guys. Doctor, over and out.
Specifically the fact that they weren't they only proxies I'd pissed off with negative consequences for me.
I'm referring of course to MT. Or rather, Vadiir. Or The Artist Formerly Known As MT.
You know, that guy I had no shred of hope of encountering and leaving with my life. Before he knew fire Theurgy. Oh yeah, did you know that? He knows goddamned fiery magic. Oh, and he had a short range teleporty thingy with him courtesy of Stripes. This bodes well for me, eh?
Now, I know what you're wondering. "Oh my goodness, Doctor, this guy certainly is tough! Surely you couldn't defeat him and the teleporter would make him nigh-inescapable! How EVER did you manage to use your endless wiles to your advantage and manage to survive such a harrowing encounter?"
Simple. I did something almost as likely to kill me as our fiery friend.
"But Doctor, how could something so deadly save your life?"
Well, I won't give you a play-by-play this time, we all saw what happens when I try that. So, to save you from reading a novel and to save me from typing one when I should be doing other things - like sleeping, if I can manage it - I'll just tell you how it ended.
It ended with me, with several newly acquired gashes and ON FIRE, jumping off a bridge into a river all while screaming "ALLONS-Y!" (Not "Geronimo". Tennant's still cooler, Stripeypants.)
That's right. I jumped off a bridge into a river while on fire. Maybe you should start calling me "Captain" instead of Doctor, savvy? Heheh.
Surface tension is some pretty amazing stuff, too. I owe a few broken ribs to it. Once I hit the water, I was paralyzed underwater for a few seconds and when I finally broke the surface I was somewhere entirely different. Also, I was soaked and dead tired and hurt pretty badly, so my swimming wasn't exactly strong. I managed to grab a log and float downstream until I washed ashore. I coughed, I sputtered, I shook, and I collapsed. And I saw that thrice-damned mask, still hanging by a chain from my beltloop. Grinning back at me. Mocking me. So I tried to destroy it again in a ragefit until I decided to ragequit and spent the next several standard units of time curled up in a ball clutching my head.
I called my buds and gave them directions. They showed up a while ago to pick me up. My various burns, cuts, and fractures have been attended to as best as we can. I hurt like hell, everywhere.
We're on the move once again. I'm lying in the backseat, watching out the window. It's the beginning of spring, and yet there's already corn sprouted everywhere. I used to hate it with a passion, it was EVERYWHERE, it was my home state. It was everything boring about my life.
What I wouldn't give now to just get lost in a cornfield and never come out. No chases, no knives, no fire. Just corn. I miss the boring.
Right. I'm going to try and get some restful sleep for once, god knows I need it. Talk to ya later, guys. Doctor, over and out.
Killjoys, make some noise!
I really really love this music video. It's so awesome. BEHOLD THE SCI-FI GLORY!
I was watching this today and I noticed some weird coincidences.
Like how the people chasing our ragtag group of heros, those Draculoids, they all wear...white...suits... Of course, Stripes doesn't actually wear a white suit (or I've never seen him in one, anyway). And Korse, the bald dude, tells our ragtag group of heroes to "keep running". Also other things that no one really cares to read and I don't really care to type.
AND THEY SAVE THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE SEQUEL, BY THE WAY.
Also, anyone notice that #nationalrunningday is trending on Twitter right now? Irony, much?
I was watching this today and I noticed some weird coincidences.
Like how the people chasing our ragtag group of heros, those Draculoids, they all wear...white...suits... Of course, Stripes doesn't actually wear a white suit (or I've never seen him in one, anyway). And Korse, the bald dude, tells our ragtag group of heroes to "keep running". Also other things that no one really cares to read and I don't really care to type.
AND THEY SAVE THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE SEQUEL, BY THE WAY.
Also, anyone notice that #nationalrunningday is trending on Twitter right now? Irony, much?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)