Post by andrew on Sept 25, 2011 10:51:56 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LWSqSNpIToc/TYZTxT60WjI/AAAAAAAAAUg/kX0kRj5ZB6k/BlackWood.jpg); width: 437px; padding-top: 30; padding-bottom: 30;] THE ANDREW CHRISTOPHER TURNER EDITION  SEVENTEEN, SENIOR, JOKERS, THOMAS FUCKIN' FISS "HELLO THERE. I'M SO GLAD YOU MADE IT HERE TODAY, BUT I'VE SEEM TO FORGOTTEN WHAT YOUR NAME WAS, IT WAS PAT... OR SOMETHING, RIGHT? NO, WELL, WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME IT THEN? FIRST, MIDDLE AND LAST, PLEASE. OH, AND PLEASE DO TELL ME ANY SCRUMPTIOUS NICKNAMES." “Of course,” Andrew said dramatically. “It is quite an honor to be sitting in this fine establishment with such a pretty lady! You can call me Bond. James Bond, that is.” Andy’s forefinger and thumb caressed his chin thoughtfully. “You mustn’t tell anyone my true identity. They all think I’m vacationing in Russia; therefore, I go by a less noble name. Turner, Andrew Christopher Turner. Pretty girls like you tend to call me Andy. Only my son of a bitch father calls me Andrew. What a pussy.” "I HAVE TO SAY, THAT'S QUITE A NAME YOU GOT THERE. I DON'T THINK I'VE HEARD IT BEFORE. TELL ME, HAVE YOU ALWAYS LIVED IN PORTLAND OR HAVE YOU COME FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE?" Andrew, a dramatic hand racing to his heart and all, gasped. “You haven’t heard my name? Why, that’s preposterous!” He shook his head in disappointment, and when he raised his blue eyes to peer into her own, he voiced a series of unhappy tsk’s. “Apart from being James Bond, I happen to be a frequent flier; destination: the principal’s office. Don’t you remember that one time I had hijacked the speaker-thing in the office to ask a girl out and Ms. Jones started spazzing out in the background?” No? How dare she say no? Andy was more surprised than literally angry. Andy was hardly ever angry. “I’ve lived in Portland for half my life, and you don’t know me!” He all but shouted. “Don’t you know a San Diego boy when you see one? Gosh, interview person. You fail.” "OH, I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE. HERE, LET'S LIGHTEN UP THE TOPIC A LITTLE BIT. OUT OF ALL OF THE WORDS IN THE WORLD, WHICH FIVE DESCRIBE YOU BEST AND WHY?" “Uncomfortable? Ha! I laugh in the face of discomfort.” Ha. Ha. Ha. And then, wordlessly thinking, Andrew Turner fell silent. Words strung through his brain, but each and every one was difficult to hold on to. “I like how you think I can conjure five words to describe me,” he said before he fell silent once more. The clock ticked noisily in the background, the interviewer crossed her legs different, Andy continued to wrack his brain for another word apart from ‘Sexy’. “Ah ha!” he finally exclaimed. “A few words that I would describe me with are: perverted, sexy, virtuosic, sexy, easy-going, sexy, noncommittal, too sexy, extremely funny, the best thing since grilled cheese, and very, very humble.” All at once, Andy laughed, and in the best way he knew how, he gave the interviewer the seductive but charming smolder. And then, in the next second, he was flailing his arms like a madman. “And why do I think those few, carefully chosen words describe me and no one else? Why! Who art thou know moi better than moi?” “I am very perverted. I like talking about boobs, penis, and sex. If there was a class for that other than Sex Ed, I’d ace it in a heartbeat. Sex is something I’ve been doing since freshman year, and I know it’s wrong of me to say so, but that girl did nothing for me. As a result, I explored it and later found that sex is my favorite topic to discuss and/or take part in. Perverted jokes are all in a fun time, too. They’re classic! That’s what she said… In bed… They make conversations a fun time, and I use them frequently. Pish Posh if they’re outdated and lame now. I continue to use them. I’m also not afraid to comment on nice features on a lady. For example, I think your boobs look swell! I’d touch them, but that’s very un-gentleman like of me.” “Do you want to know what is very gentleman like of me to do, though? I could serenade you and your perfect boobs, but I don’t have a guitar with me. Yes, I play the guitar. Are you turned on yet? What if I told you I also play the harmonica, trumpet, flute, tuba, piano, drums, French horn, clarinet, saxophone, and ukulele, too? I’m a man of many instruments. The bible says I taught the angels to sing on the day my mother popped me out of her vagina. That was the day I learned to sing, too. I produced the most beautiful wails of agony. My mom has tapes, but you’ll have to excuse the labor scenes. She’s polish, and she curses in polish the whole entire thing while my dad just stands there about to piss his pants. It’s awesome. Don’t worry, I sing a lot better now. Want to know a secret? I’m a natural. I have never taken classes for my voice unless you count choir in sixth grade.” “I don’t, but whatever floats your boat is fine with me. I’m a pretty easy-going fella. I like long walks on the beach, skinny dipping in the dark, and streaking in the park. I don’t really like to cause conflict with people, so you can be a jerk off and I’ll just say fuck you and be on my merry little way. I’m a very peaceful person. Anyone you ask that actually knows me can tell you I stroke lambs in my free time, and boy, they really like it. I don’t really stress about anything. Homework? Yeah, whatever. It’s not like anyone but the nerds actually do that stuff anyways. Rules are pointless to me, too. I’m probably going to break them, so why take your time to make them? That’s what I don’t understand about my dad. He sets a curfew, tells me not to bring girls home, and tells me not to drink, but does that stop me from doing any of those things? Nope!” “I’m not afraid to admit it. I am a manwhore. Here’s the thing: Kimball High School has over two thousand students roaming its halls. Let’s say the population was split evenly between girls and boys. That means at least one thousand are girls, and they all secretly want one thing: to be loved. Well, I’m not sure if I believe in ‘the one’ kind of shit, but maybe I will if I find the right gal. I know for a fact I won’t be finding her if I’m settling for Nancy the Nerd. See, my noncommittal lifestyle is justified! I don’t want to lead on a girl if I just don’t feel it anymore, and I’d hate to result in cheating on her with some pretty little bombshell. Fortunately, I’m friends with most of my exes. Oddly enough, we’re close when we’re not fucking around with each other! Weird, huh? I think they enjoy my humorous nature. I’m a funny guy. I’ve been told I’m funny. That makes me a funny guy. I love pulling pranks and making people laugh—especially girls. They love a funny guy. Pretty cool, huh?” "I'M NOT GOING TO LIE. YOU SEEM LIKE QUITE THE CATCH. I'M SURE YOU'RE ALWAYS BUSY, HUH? DO YOU LIKE WATCHING TELEVISION OR KNITTING? WHY DON'T YOU TELL US A LITTLE BIT ABOUT YOURSELF?" “Busy? Hell yes! I always have plans. You know how guys in movies say they have to check their schedule before they set a date to seem cool? Yeah, I have to literally check my schedule before asking a girl out so I don’t overlap dates.” Andy pulled out his iPhone, unlocked it, and showed the interviewer his schedule. There was a little round dot on almost every date. “See, I wasn’t shitting you. Speaking of shit, it smells like it in here. Did you fart? God, that stinks really bad, girl.” Andy plugged his nose. When he spoke, his voice was airy and nasally. “Watching television and knitting? Do I look like my grandmother? I don’t think so. Besides, I’m too busy for that shit. I’ll watch television sometimes, but surprisingly, I don’t watch too much. I have better things to do. Most of my time is eaten up by girls and music. Honestly, those two items make up my life with a little substance thrown in there. Yeah, I do drugs and drink. Get over it. I don’t overdo it like the stoners, but they’re pretty great guys. It’s so fucking funny to watch them stumble over their shoe laces when they’re high. Good times, good times. Some of my hobbies include: partying, playing the guitar, playing any kind of instrument, performing, texting, having sex, singing, song-writing, going on dates, and pulling pranks. All is pranks, girls, and music and nothing hurts, right? I guess that pretty much sums up what I like as well. Do you want to know what I don’t like? I hate it when I wake up hung over and have the worst headache on the planet. I drank two McDonald’s cups full of straight vodka once. I puked all over the front yard. It wasn’t fun. Along with hangovers, I hate pussies, people who can’t take a joke, people smash-talking people I care about, people who are douchebags on purpose, sleeping alone, stale chips, and I think that’s it. I don’t really feel like thinking about it for too long, to be honest. That’s definitely one of my strengths. In most cases, I know when enough is enough unless I’m shit-faced and think I can handle three more shots and end up in the hospital to get a stomach pump. I’m also very charming, funny, musical, sexy, creative, easy-going, and optimistic. I’d have to say I’m pretty hot, too. That works well for me. My biggest flaw isn’t something I can control. Baby, I was born this way definitely applies. I think my penis is too large. Other than that, being non-committal and careless are probably some of my biggest weaknesses. I think that’s it. Next question. … Hello? Interviewer lady? Are you seriously staring at my crotch?” Andy threw back his head and laughed. Laughing, he choked out, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have succeeded in turning this fine young lady on. I believe my dear old friend outside owes me five bucks. No girl left unturned. Yup.” "YOU SOUND PRETTY FEARLESS, BUT THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING YOU'RE AFRAID OF. ANY JUICY SECRETS?" “That’s better. Welcome back Interviewer. Have fun daydreaming about my rather large dick? It looked like it.” Andy sighed. “Oh man, that was priceless. There’s no need to be embarrassed. I get it all the time…” Andy winked. “Anyways, what was the question? Oh, right. Juicy secrets? Yes. When I went to Texas with my friend once, we got high and we conveniently found a barn with a horse in it. Being totally trashed, we decided to mess around with it in a sexual way, and I videotaped it. We burned the tape. Fears? Yeah, let’s just hope no one knows how to find ashes and rebuild videos because that one was kind of disturbing. It’s not every day your best friend tries to hump a horse.” "DON'T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY, BUT ARE YOU GAY? I MEAN, IT WASN'T SOMETHING YOU SAID OR ANYTHING. I'M JUST A CURIOUS OLD BADGER. UM. WHAT DO YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE? IS THAT BETTER? I GUESS YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER IF YOU DON'T WANT TO." Andy stared at her blankly. “Gay…?” He grew quiet. “Is it that obvious…?” He gulped. “I didn’t want to come out this way, but…” He dabbed his face with his shirt. “My name is Andrew Turner and I am planning on kidnapping George Clooney to adopt surrogate kids with him and we’ll live gayly ever after. It’ll be awesome. Until then, I am 98.9% heterosexual, with a couple gay, drunk kisses thrown in there somewhere. Had I not been drunk, I’d probably not have kissed him, mind you. That doesn’t count. I prefer girls. Is there any specific kind of girl I like? Not really. I like tall ones, short ones, flat ones, large ones, skinny ones, fa—Just kidding. I do like skinny girls, but not Barbie thin. Like… healthy weight girls are what I’m into. Brunettes and blondes are extremely pretty in my opinion, but I’m not afraid of fucking a ginger. Why? Did you want to know if you had a chance with me? The answer would be yes if you’re wondering. I’ll leave my number with you just in case, and then I can check my schedule for a possible date!” "ALRIGHT, ENOUGH WITH THE HEAVY STUFF. LET'S TALK ABOUT... MUSIC. I THINK YOU MENTIONED SOMETHING ABOUT POP OR HIP HOP EARLIER. WHAT KIND OF MUSIC DO YOU LIKE? RAP, COUNTRY, JAZZ? WHAT ARE YOUR TOP FIVE MOST PLAYED SONGS ON ITUNES?" “Alright, I’m down with music, although I think you indirectly rejected me just now. I’m not going to lie. That hurts. I don’t think I did mention hip hop or pop earlier. Are you that dazed by me? Damn. I should probably stop being so freaking charming before you full-out start masturbating or something in front of me. Anyways, what kind of music do I listen to? Any kind except folk and country. I can’t stand that hillbilly shit. Although ‘Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off’ is fucking hilarious. I have to say five songs I can relate to pretty well are: Good Girls Go Bad and Nice Guys Finish Last by Cobra Starship, I Don’t Care by Fall Out Boy, Practice Makes Perfect by Cute is What We Aim For and Your Body Is a Wonderland by John Mayer.” Grinning, Andy gave her a thumbs up. “Yeah, I’m pretty much a great big douche relating to songs about sex and turning nice girls into sluts. You wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” "LISTENING TO MUSIC LIKE THAT? YOU'RE SURE TO BE A STAR IN THE NEAR FUTURE. YOU SEEM LIKE A WELL-ROUNDED YOUNG PERSON, MY DEAR. WHERE DO YOU FIND YOURSELF TO BE IN FIVE YEARS FROM NOW?" “You really think so? I hope so. I’m a musician at heart, so I guess I hope to go onward to bigger and better things one day. Right now, I’m perfectly content doing small gigs that my mom can set up and talent shows at the school. I’m not going to college. I made that decision a long time ago. After senior year, I’m so done with school. In five years, I hope to have an album out, and best case scenario, going on tour with a couple of my friends with a band with an epic name. More realistically, I’ll probably still be living in my dad’s house, partying every single night, and making due with small gigs at bars and Portland events.” "IF IT MEANS ANYTHING, I'LL BE ROOTING FOR YOU WHEN THE TIME COMES. I'M SURE YOUR PARENTS WILL TOO. SPEAKING OF YOUR PARENTS, WHY DON'T YOU TELL US THEIR NAMES AND WHAT YOU THINK OF THEM! DO YOU HAVE ANY SIBLINGS, PETS, OTHER RELATIVES?" “Yeah, it means a lot. Every fan makes my fandom one person bigger, so I love all of them. Come to think of it, this is probably my first interview in my career. Huh. I always thought there’d be silly string and indoor fireworks. I had my hopes too high. According to my dad, I’ll probably never get anywhere in life, but that’s only his half-assed opinion and I don’t necessarily care about it. We’ve never been close. We have different values and different interests and different beliefs. We were doomed from the start, and so was his marriage with my mom. I’m a lot like my mom. She loves living her life with no regrets, and I picked that behavior up from her. I love my mom. She’s from Poland, so she speaks in a funny accent. It’s so funny. So is her cat named Jack Daniels. Only my mom would name her cat after some of the strongest alcohol I’ve ever tasted. He’s a cool cat, but he’s also really weird. So is my step-dad! My mom remarried pretty fast after the divorce. Daddy dearest didn’t. I wonder why! So yeah. Me and my dad hate each other, me and my mom are best friends, and me and my step-dad get along swimmingly. Me and the cat? We’re like brothers.” "OH, I SEE. WELL, WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME. WHY DON'T WE WRAP THIS UP WITH YOUR STORY? HOW DID YOU END UP IN PORTLAND, OREGON?" “So you want to know the whole story behind me, do you? Well, you won’t be disappointed, I’m sure. I was born in San Diego, California on October thirty-first in the great year of nineteen ninety-three. My parents were married, but doomed from the start. I was born, my dad nearly pissed his pants, and my mother was complaining about her brand new stretch marks. They divorced when I was three, but I didn’t care. The court decided my dad was the best suited to raise me, and he did, but he didn’t raise me very well. I grew to rebel, and it was in fourth grade when I moved to Portland, Oregon. I was so angry when my dad said we were moving. I had all my friends in San Diego. I had surfing and California babes to stare at. I couldn’t leave! Unfortunately, I had no choice. I left, and just like the socialite I am, I made new friends and got over it within a week. I think I was most upset about leaving my mom and her husband behind. Then, I found my ability to sing and play instruments and nothing hurt. I started off my musical career with singing, but I transferred into the band in junior high. I played the trumpet. In eighth grade, I played the tuba. I also skipped around and asked people to play their instruments when we were waiting for our band instructor to call us to attention. There was a point in time when nothing but music mattered to me. That era died with my virginity. I’ve never been much of a school person either. I’ve broken numerous bones in my lifetime, smoked a little too much weed, had too many shots of patron, got caught skinny-dipping once, barely escaped getting a DUI, Tp-ed a house, tripped a police officer, and spent some time in jail. My dad has even gone as far as buying himself an ‘I’m the father of stupid’ custom made. He doesn’t wear it in public. Oh! I forgot to tell you my mom moved up to Portland when I was sixteen. I had just been busted with drugs, and she decided her son needed her, so she came! I can’t believe I forgot to mention that. I’m trying to think about whether or not I forgot anything. Nah, I think that’s it. I think that’s a wrap!” ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE Why don't you check out my posts around the forum? CHAR, THREE YEARS, CREATOR, ADMIN EDIT |
