And You Don't Mess Around with Slim

[Ada Marie Hollys]

Up on top of the school, and the very highest point of the very highest air vent, there was a flash of blue. Now this was strange, because of the depth and saturation of the blue in question. See, only male Boobies were prone to dancing, but male Boobies were also prone to paler feet. These feet were distinctly feminine, but also distinctly happy. Though a school ground is hardly a quiet place to begin with, it is still nevertheless usually devoid of the kinds of grunts and whistles the owner of the feet was producing.

But damn if she didn't love this song.

Outlaw had told her to get her blue socks on, but really there was no where else she could indulge besides the school grounds. And well, just sitting around being a bird was pretty damn dull, so she'd brought her mp3 player and a pair of battery powered speakers. Instant amusement for hours. The only foreseeable down side was that Ada lacked the ability to change the song. She'd come up to the roof with every intention of having what they call a spiritual experience. That meant hours and hours of Bob Dylan, maybe a little Vienna Teng (if she was feeling modern). Her electronics had different ideas though and about two songs in had abruptly switched to a string of chipper songs.

Grass Roots, Sooner or Later.
Blue Swede, I Think I Love You
Diana Ross, Ain't No Mountain High Enough
and (the piece of resistance)
Jim Croce, You Don't Mess Around With Jim

As Jim doot-doot-dootin-doo'd his way through a delightful tale of pool hustling, Ada flapped her wings about and stamped her peculiar feet in what she could only assume was the most graceful version of a dance that a Blue-footed Booby could muster. She looked like she was having an avian seizure.

But she'd couldn't not dance and sing along. Joy was meant to be expressed, and even in her bird form, Ada couldn't suppress it. If anything else, she felt less inhibited. Boobies were social and silly creatures by nature and they knew. Happiness came screaming out of every pore.

Ada finished off with a noisy flutter and whistle, before hopping back to her mp3player, trying to eye ball what was up next. She shoved her beady yellow eye in close, trying to make it focus on the foreign symbols. Addled, little bird brains always did have trouble translating. She bobbed her head back and forth trying to make it focus in, her tail feathers twitching left and right in anticipation. What's next, what's next?

[GIDEON JET THOMAS]

Gideon Jet Thomas was irritable. It was simply one of those days when you wanted to punch a hole in the wall at every little discomfort that happened to stumble your way. Not only had he simply awoke in a terrible mood, all of his bad karma seemed to be catching up with him.

He had woke up late only to find he had forgotten to charge his iPod, and it was dead. A morning for him without music was bad enough, but when it was a rushed morning it only made it ten times worse. After rushing to get ready, he turned up late for his morning class. His day took a brief turn after that. He poured all his energy into his classes, and even started to enjoy it. It had been warm out, and he did well in his shift courses. Everything went smoothly until the end of the day.

Business law was his least favourite class - in fact, he hated it - and it was the one that ended his day. He had a hard time focusing in it, and had started slacking off when it came to his schoolwork. He received the news that he was barely passing it. And, as if his mother could read his mind from miles and miles away, she called him no later than ten minutes after class ended.

"Hello, sweetpea,"

[/i] she had said, "How is school going? Have you gave it anymore thought to your father's suggestion?"[/i] Of course, by that she meant 'have you accepted your future career yet?' His parents wanted him to make money, and lots of it, like them. They wished he would at least become a stockbroker like his old man. Jet hated the idea. In reply to his mother, Jet had been forced to tell her about his near-failing mark in the class his father chose for him. There had been a pause before "... Your father sends his love. Expect a call from him before too long." He only called to yell.

Jet let out an exasperated sigh, and ran his hand through his dirty blond hair. He was on his way to the rooftop. No students were permitted there, but he payed the rule no attention. The only times he came up here were to think, and when he needed to think, he needed to think. So the sign was ignored.

The door that stood between himself and his oasis was a mere few feet away now. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his paperclip - or what used to be a paperclip. It resembled a metal twig more than an actual paperclip now. He lazily slid it into the door's lock, and fumbled around until he felt the small click. He turned the knob, and pushed the heavy, metal door open. The wind gently buffeted his hair as he walked forward and heard the door slam shut behind him. But that was not all Jet heard.

Confused, Jet recognized music. It wasn't hard to spot the speakers responsible for the sound; especially when the speakers were accompanied by a familiar blue-footed booby. The same girl attended his advanced flying course. Addie, was it? Ada?

He paused mid-step, and wondered if he should call a greeting. He felt it would be awkward to think up here now, but what if she had also came up here to be alone? "Hey," he called uncertainly, "mind if we share the roof?"

---

Word count: 574.
Muse: Eh.
Other: 'twas alright. xD.
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[Ada Marie Hollys]

Had Ada not already been hopping, she would have jumped in surprise. She'd not beed expecting anyone else up here. Wasn't the access door supposed to be locked? Well now she felt stupid for flying her mp3 player up here. She attempted to recover. What she hoped look like a clever tap routine looked more like she was trying to stamp on invisible fire ants.

She cocked her head to the side, beady yellow eyes looking him over severely. Whatshisbucket, again? Jet. That's right, because she kept wanting to call him Star Scream. That had gone over like a ton of bricks. Well, most of her nicknames usually did. She couldn't even begin to tell you what his shift actually was - only that it was a damn big bird.

Big bird. Maybe she ought to start calling him that - he had the hair for it.

Ada gave a happy sounding hooting whistle - the kind any sort of Booby would give to another. If that didn't do the trick, she swept one wing out in a welcoming gesture. And if that didn't do the trick...

There was a long stretch of time where she pecked at her mp3 player until at last-

'Be our guest, be our guest
put our service to the text
tie this napkin round your neck cherie...'

There was another happy little squawking noise. She hadn't thought she'd actually be able to pull anything up. The little machine was a pain to try and control with a beak. Actually she was a little proud of herself for the maneuver. It wasn't long until her tail feathers were bobbing along in time again.

Mi rooftop es su rooftop

Really, what was she gonna do? Say no? He could punt her in this form. Not that she really thought he would. Anyways it was public property and she was in a good mood. She wasn't really one to turn down company anyways. Maybe she could get a few more birds up on the roof, start a whole sing along, with a little five-part harmony, and feelin.

[GIDEON JET THOMAS]

Jet could not hide a smile as the bird - er, Ada - let out a joyful squawk and gestured with her wing. I suppose that's a yes? Jet raised one eyebrow slowly, impressed that, even though she was in her shift form, Ada was able to work her mp3 player... sort of. He flinched to think of the scratches, but remained impressed nevertheless.

He let out a small laugh as he recognized the lyrics. Clever. He walked over to the ledge and sat down, dangling his legs over the edge. It was probably dangerous, sure, but Jet still had not forgotten his bad mood. He stared down at the ground far below him wondering what would happen if one of his shows fell off and hit someone in the head. Would it kill them? Maybe.

At that point in time his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He had service up here? Jet shifted so he could stuff his hand into his pocket and grab his phone. Who's texting me now? Annoyance washed over him as the small icon of a phone was ringing on the display. The text underneath seemed to scream at him. Father.

"Hello?" he growled as he brought the speaker to his ear. His father immediately started yelling at him. His eyes squinted and he pulled the phone a few inches from his ear where he could still clearly hear his father's words.

"Gideon! Are you trying to throw away your education? Do you want to end up broke and on the streets like your damn aunt? Have you made it your fucking life's GOAL to be a disappointment and a downright fucking embarrassment to this family?!" Do you-"

[/b]

Jet hung-up. He couldn't handle this right now, and he had no wish to alert his father to not giving a rat's ass about becoming a stockbroker. He felt as though the same conversation had happened so many time before. He was tired of it.

The phone started to vibrate again. Father.

He only hesitated for half a second. Jet then proceeded to stand up, and fling his phone a good distance. He could just barely see it as the expensive phone shattered on the ground.

"Sorry about that," he muttered in Ada's direction.

---

Word count: 370.
Muse: Not good at all, haha.
Other: Jet = rageface.
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[Ada Marie Hollys]

And then again maybe a good round of kumbaya wasn't gonna solve everything. what was it Arlo Guthrie said? 'In a perfect world, in a world like kyat, you'd have to go a hell of a long way out of your way to make a positive contribution. Hmm, alright so maybe that wasn't the sentimism she was looking for. Well, she might as well make the best of an awkward blue-footed situation, right? Ada liked to think thats what she was there for.

If she'd had eyebrows Ada would have raised one. Instead she settled for cocking her itty bitty bird head to the side before skuttling back to her mp3 player. Peck, peck peck. Disgruntled squawk. More pecking.

Hello, hello baby you called I can't hear a thing,
I have got no service in the club you see, see
Wha-wha-what did you say are you breaking up on me?
Sorry I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy

Ada's wings flapped in and out in time to the heavy beat. She all but fell off her air vent hopping about. She began to stalk towards Jet, with silly high steps, her head bobbing back and forth in a turkey fashion in time with Lady Gaga's proclamations. By the time the chorus hit, Ada's tail feathers were bumping against his leg, encouraging him to join in her ridiculousness.

If she'd had the vocal chords for it, she would have advized him to just do as he liked and be uninhibited for a few minutes. Give in, dance a silly dance, worry about your phoen later (if its even worth worrying about at all). But she didn't have the vocal chords for it, so she settled for pestering him in the best way she knew how.

Like a lighting bolt hit her, Ada suddenly went straight as a board. She charged back towards her mp3 player again. Bless the gods that invented protective covers, she thought as she plucked it up in her beak. With a happy whistle she charged back towards Jet, speaker flopping behind her. Eh, whatever they were just cheapo five dollar speakers from Walmart anyways. With a squawk she deposited the device squarly in Jet's lap before bobbing her head in a funky rythm again.

Arlo had said in a world that sucks, like this one, you don't really have to do much at all. If that was the truth of it, she could at least offer him his choice of musical catharsis.

Pick something fun

[GIDEON JET THOMAS]

Jet cast a glance at the bird form of Ada as she scuffled back over to her mp3 player. She pecked and squawked at the screen until she seemed to have accomplished what she set out to do. Jet lifted an eyebrow as a recognizable song began to play.

Hello, hello baby you called I can't hear a thing,
I have got no service in the club you see, see

Telephone. The blond-haired junior looked back out at the spot where he could still just see the pieces of his phone scattered on the ground. It honestly was not a big deal. For some people it would mean social suicide to destroy their phone on purpose, but, with Jet, it just meant he must go and purchase another phone. No big deal. He always knew to buy the phone outright instead of over time. This was not the first phone he had broken, and it certainly would not be the last.

He looked back over to Ada who was doing some sort of... dance? She was walking toward him and, oddly enough, keeping beat to the song. She seemed to get more into the song the closer she got to him. He had to admit, she was extremely entertaining to observe to the point where he was almost over his father's call. He would get a new phone when he could and he would call him back to apologize; whether he deserved it or not. Maybe he would even tell him that he didn't want to follow his given career path. Maybe, and it was a pretty big maybe.

At that point in time, something seemed to have stuck Ada for she raced back to her mp3 player. Jet couldn't help but think that she resembled Roadrunner as she did so. His image of Roadrunner was abruptly disturbed as she dragged back her mp3 player - speakers and all - in nearly the most ungraceful image ever. His lips curled up at the sides as he tried not to laugh. She plopped the device onto his lap and began dancing again.

"Well alright..." he said, realizing what she wanted him to do. "Let's see here." He flipped through the artists, looking for one to catch his eye.

Drove downtown in the rain, nine-thirty on a Tuesday night,
just to check out the late-night, record shop
Call it impulsive, call it compulsive, call it insane,
when I surrender I just can't stop.

---

Word count: 401.
Muse: It was sorta there.
Other: Sorry this thread is so delayed all the time. xD. Been really busy with auditions and stuff. In fact the only reason Jet picked that song was 'cause I'm using it to audition today. Haha.

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