LOG: Jennie, Clarice and Tommy (sorta)
Sep. 16th, 2005 03:27 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsStuck watching the still comatose Tommy, Jennie decides to liven things up, and gets some help from the Glitter Pixie. This can only end one way.
Jennie sighed. She had scrubbed, scraped, exfoliated and trimmed her cuticles. She had applied a base, a color, and a topcoat, buffed and shined her nails to perfection. She had even gone full out pedicure with her toenails. Yet somehow, she'd only managed to kill 45 minutes of her 3-hour Coma-Lad shift. Her homework she'd already done, well, except for the English, and the Scarlet Letter was as mind-numbingly dense as all get out. Jennie eyed the boy lying on the bed next to her. The swelling had gone down for the most part, and his bruises were beginning to yellow. A small part of Jennie felt sorry for the guy. Then she eyed his toes, which were poking out from beneath the sheet. Well, not that sorry.
5 minutes later, she was painting his toenails a vivid shade of blue.
"What are you doing?" Clarice asked, wandering in from alphabetizing paperwork. It was a dull and thankless job, which was probably why she always seemed to be assigned it. At least she wasn't having to clean up vomit or run around screaming on her off days. She peered at Tommy's toes curiously.
"Meep!" Jennie jumped guiltily. She quickly palmed the nail polish. "Nothing!" She said in the tone that declared that she was definitely doing Something.
"Well, either he has really, really bad blood circulation and we should amputate before gangrene sets in or you have blueberry blast nail polish," Clarice grinned, sniffing his feet experimentally. Shockingly, they didn't smell like nasty feet. "You have any more colors?"
Jennie sighed in relief. It was just Clarice, and not one of the scary Redheaded Women of Doom. She screwed the cap back into the polish. "Just Blueberry down here. I've got Rust, Cotton Candy, and your basic black upstairs. I'll take it off, once I'm done." She said quickly, gesturing to Tommy's foot.
"Why? I'd wait to see how long it takes for someone to notice," Clarice grinned wickedly, a plot forming, "Glitter is too obvious, but how about we paint designs on them? I have grass, razzleberry and sunshine upstairs."
Jennie thought for a moment. The desire to live with her eardrums intact versus the desire to liven up the medlab a little bit fought a decisive battle. In the end, she figured that painting Tommy's toenails would be incredibly immature and a very stupid thing to do, but decided to do it anyway. "Sure. I think the razzleberry will complement nicely."
"Sure," Clarice looked at an empty tray nearby and the nailpolishes appeared along with other nailpolishing accouterments, "I can't 'port yours, no idea where they are," she apologized, "But I have toothpicks! And polish remover! The possibilities are endless! Bwahahaha!" She cackled gleefully. She had no such maturity dilemmas, it was only nail polish, not a tattoo.
"That is such a keen power." Jennie said admiringly. "I think I like your polish better, you have such pretty colors!" Jennie got up and stood next to the shorter girl. Both tilted their heads like two Picassos considering a blank canvas.
"We only get one foot," Clarice finally replied mournfully. "Which means only one big-toe. We can't both have masterpieces," she tucked an errant lock of hair behind one ear before grabbing Jennie's blue polish. "It's an excuse for my parents not to buy me a car."
"Because I am such a nice person, you may have the big toe." Jennie said graciously, selecting a deep magenta color for herself. "I'm thinking something manly, like lightning bolts." She also bit back a sarcastic comment about least knowing where her parents were.
"Nah, you can have the big toe, I want to do little polkadots on his baby toe. It'd be so cute. And maybe a stripe on another toe, you know, like those balloon name drawings kids do?" Clarice didn't think for a minute that she might have said anything wrong.
Jennie grinned wickedly. "I like the polka-dots. He seems like someone who's confident in his own masculinity and doesn't need to bully and degrade those he considers as lesser than himself to give him a sense of self-worth." She said lightly, and then added, "Oh, wait, nevermind."
Clarice scowled down at Tommy before breaking into a huge shit-eating grin, "We'll get our revenge...eventually. I mean, it's gotta suck waking up surrounded by the people you hate to not only find out that you're one of them, but that they saved your life and nursed you back to health when you wouldn't spit if they were on fire. And if he's remains a bastard, I have swords. Lovely shiny swords. We can give him to Dani to make shish-ka-bob."
"Yes, but would we want to dirty your lovely swords? I say just used a sharp pointy stick. Or a spork." Jennie paused midway through applying a yellow stripe. "I do feel bad, though. Karma can be such a bitch."
Dirty her swords? Noooo, "So we find someone else to poke him like a pig. Can't be that hard in a place like this," she carefully drew pink wavy lines on a toe, "And she's only a bitch when she has PMS."
Jennie nodded. "Although, you can bet the Bald One will welcome him with open arms. So we can't apply the smackdown. Although, for him I think it'd be worse if we didn't resort to physical violence." Jennie grinned, a very wicked thought entered her brain. "You know how adults are always telling us to be kind to others, even when they're mean? What if everyone here was nothing but nice? It'd freak him out. He'd be expecting us to be all hostile, and he'd just get indifference. Or even niceness. That's one hell of a mind game."
Clarice bit her lip, unsure, that was a lot to ask of some people....there was genuine reason to hate him, even though it was hard to hate him when he was this pathetic. "It'd be a mind-fuck all right," she agreed cautiously, "It's like, you're expecting a kick to the gut but life kicks you in the teeth instead. I like it, even if it's not very satisfying."
"It is much more satisfying." Jennie said with conviction. "He's expecting us to beat him up, be all that he's thought us to be. He'll want it, just so we'll prove him right. But if we don't give in, if we just bide our time, he'll make himself nuts trying to figure us out." Jennie finished the big toe with a flourish. "Watching him stew will be infinitely more rewarding than having him get the crap kicked out of him again and having to change his catheter all over." Jennie stood back, admiring her work. "Such a shame that they’re wasted on him, he such has lovely man-feet."
"They aren't very hairy at all. Hobbit feet are nasty," Clarice thought on what Jennie had said. It made a certain amount of sense even if it was unlikely to succeed at Xavier's. "All hairy and gross."
"I think we're done. Now we just let it dry, and we'll be all set." Jennie sighed. She still had an hour and half to go by herself. Unless... "How well do you know the Scarlet Letter?"
Clarice made a face, "I bought the cliffnotes and watched Demi. Made a B on the paper," That book was beyond boring. How it was an 'American Classic' was something she'd never understand. She had a list of sucky books actually, Moby Dick was another one although The Great Gatsby was a close second.
"Bleh. The Bald One is having us read it for English. And he says it's totally different from the movie. No Indians or anything. D'you think I could borrow your Cliff's Notes?" Jennie asked hopefully.
"Of course. Always willing to share. The movie is always different, but if you stay vague enough and use literary websites, you can totally fake it. Or you could read the book. Want it now or later? I'd have to go find it."
"Now probably. I still got an hour and half until my shift is up." Jennie leaned over to check if Tommy's toe was dry, and then carefully covered it with a sheet. No sense in scrubbing it off. It'd be a pleasant surprise for whoever got to take care of him next.
"Sure," Clarice hopped off her stool and headed to the door with her nail polishes, "I'll send it to the tray when I find it, k?" she nodded at the now-empty supplies tray, "So don't move it."
"Okay. I'll be here." Jennie smiled and waved a little pathetically as Clarice left. Then she sighed and looked back at Coma-Lad. "The was things are shaping up, you may be better off staying in dreamland," she said to him. Jennie shifted in the chair to get comfortable and continued, "I mean, you ain't got it so bad. Free food, clean sheets, and someone to change you. Why, I even did you nails for you." Her only reply was the hiss of the oxygen and the ping of the EKG. Jennie eyed the tray waiting for the Cliff’s notes. "I don't suppose you've read the Scarlet Letter?" Hiss. Ping. "Yeah. Didn't think so."
Jennie sighed. She had scrubbed, scraped, exfoliated and trimmed her cuticles. She had applied a base, a color, and a topcoat, buffed and shined her nails to perfection. She had even gone full out pedicure with her toenails. Yet somehow, she'd only managed to kill 45 minutes of her 3-hour Coma-Lad shift. Her homework she'd already done, well, except for the English, and the Scarlet Letter was as mind-numbingly dense as all get out. Jennie eyed the boy lying on the bed next to her. The swelling had gone down for the most part, and his bruises were beginning to yellow. A small part of Jennie felt sorry for the guy. Then she eyed his toes, which were poking out from beneath the sheet. Well, not that sorry.
5 minutes later, she was painting his toenails a vivid shade of blue.
"What are you doing?" Clarice asked, wandering in from alphabetizing paperwork. It was a dull and thankless job, which was probably why she always seemed to be assigned it. At least she wasn't having to clean up vomit or run around screaming on her off days. She peered at Tommy's toes curiously.
"Meep!" Jennie jumped guiltily. She quickly palmed the nail polish. "Nothing!" She said in the tone that declared that she was definitely doing Something.
"Well, either he has really, really bad blood circulation and we should amputate before gangrene sets in or you have blueberry blast nail polish," Clarice grinned, sniffing his feet experimentally. Shockingly, they didn't smell like nasty feet. "You have any more colors?"
Jennie sighed in relief. It was just Clarice, and not one of the scary Redheaded Women of Doom. She screwed the cap back into the polish. "Just Blueberry down here. I've got Rust, Cotton Candy, and your basic black upstairs. I'll take it off, once I'm done." She said quickly, gesturing to Tommy's foot.
"Why? I'd wait to see how long it takes for someone to notice," Clarice grinned wickedly, a plot forming, "Glitter is too obvious, but how about we paint designs on them? I have grass, razzleberry and sunshine upstairs."
Jennie thought for a moment. The desire to live with her eardrums intact versus the desire to liven up the medlab a little bit fought a decisive battle. In the end, she figured that painting Tommy's toenails would be incredibly immature and a very stupid thing to do, but decided to do it anyway. "Sure. I think the razzleberry will complement nicely."
"Sure," Clarice looked at an empty tray nearby and the nailpolishes appeared along with other nailpolishing accouterments, "I can't 'port yours, no idea where they are," she apologized, "But I have toothpicks! And polish remover! The possibilities are endless! Bwahahaha!" She cackled gleefully. She had no such maturity dilemmas, it was only nail polish, not a tattoo.
"That is such a keen power." Jennie said admiringly. "I think I like your polish better, you have such pretty colors!" Jennie got up and stood next to the shorter girl. Both tilted their heads like two Picassos considering a blank canvas.
"We only get one foot," Clarice finally replied mournfully. "Which means only one big-toe. We can't both have masterpieces," she tucked an errant lock of hair behind one ear before grabbing Jennie's blue polish. "It's an excuse for my parents not to buy me a car."
"Because I am such a nice person, you may have the big toe." Jennie said graciously, selecting a deep magenta color for herself. "I'm thinking something manly, like lightning bolts." She also bit back a sarcastic comment about least knowing where her parents were.
"Nah, you can have the big toe, I want to do little polkadots on his baby toe. It'd be so cute. And maybe a stripe on another toe, you know, like those balloon name drawings kids do?" Clarice didn't think for a minute that she might have said anything wrong.
Jennie grinned wickedly. "I like the polka-dots. He seems like someone who's confident in his own masculinity and doesn't need to bully and degrade those he considers as lesser than himself to give him a sense of self-worth." She said lightly, and then added, "Oh, wait, nevermind."
Clarice scowled down at Tommy before breaking into a huge shit-eating grin, "We'll get our revenge...eventually. I mean, it's gotta suck waking up surrounded by the people you hate to not only find out that you're one of them, but that they saved your life and nursed you back to health when you wouldn't spit if they were on fire. And if he's remains a bastard, I have swords. Lovely shiny swords. We can give him to Dani to make shish-ka-bob."
"Yes, but would we want to dirty your lovely swords? I say just used a sharp pointy stick. Or a spork." Jennie paused midway through applying a yellow stripe. "I do feel bad, though. Karma can be such a bitch."
Dirty her swords? Noooo, "So we find someone else to poke him like a pig. Can't be that hard in a place like this," she carefully drew pink wavy lines on a toe, "And she's only a bitch when she has PMS."
Jennie nodded. "Although, you can bet the Bald One will welcome him with open arms. So we can't apply the smackdown. Although, for him I think it'd be worse if we didn't resort to physical violence." Jennie grinned, a very wicked thought entered her brain. "You know how adults are always telling us to be kind to others, even when they're mean? What if everyone here was nothing but nice? It'd freak him out. He'd be expecting us to be all hostile, and he'd just get indifference. Or even niceness. That's one hell of a mind game."
Clarice bit her lip, unsure, that was a lot to ask of some people....there was genuine reason to hate him, even though it was hard to hate him when he was this pathetic. "It'd be a mind-fuck all right," she agreed cautiously, "It's like, you're expecting a kick to the gut but life kicks you in the teeth instead. I like it, even if it's not very satisfying."
"It is much more satisfying." Jennie said with conviction. "He's expecting us to beat him up, be all that he's thought us to be. He'll want it, just so we'll prove him right. But if we don't give in, if we just bide our time, he'll make himself nuts trying to figure us out." Jennie finished the big toe with a flourish. "Watching him stew will be infinitely more rewarding than having him get the crap kicked out of him again and having to change his catheter all over." Jennie stood back, admiring her work. "Such a shame that they’re wasted on him, he such has lovely man-feet."
"They aren't very hairy at all. Hobbit feet are nasty," Clarice thought on what Jennie had said. It made a certain amount of sense even if it was unlikely to succeed at Xavier's. "All hairy and gross."
"I think we're done. Now we just let it dry, and we'll be all set." Jennie sighed. She still had an hour and half to go by herself. Unless... "How well do you know the Scarlet Letter?"
Clarice made a face, "I bought the cliffnotes and watched Demi. Made a B on the paper," That book was beyond boring. How it was an 'American Classic' was something she'd never understand. She had a list of sucky books actually, Moby Dick was another one although The Great Gatsby was a close second.
"Bleh. The Bald One is having us read it for English. And he says it's totally different from the movie. No Indians or anything. D'you think I could borrow your Cliff's Notes?" Jennie asked hopefully.
"Of course. Always willing to share. The movie is always different, but if you stay vague enough and use literary websites, you can totally fake it. Or you could read the book. Want it now or later? I'd have to go find it."
"Now probably. I still got an hour and half until my shift is up." Jennie leaned over to check if Tommy's toe was dry, and then carefully covered it with a sheet. No sense in scrubbing it off. It'd be a pleasant surprise for whoever got to take care of him next.
"Sure," Clarice hopped off her stool and headed to the door with her nail polishes, "I'll send it to the tray when I find it, k?" she nodded at the now-empty supplies tray, "So don't move it."
"Okay. I'll be here." Jennie smiled and waved a little pathetically as Clarice left. Then she sighed and looked back at Coma-Lad. "The was things are shaping up, you may be better off staying in dreamland," she said to him. Jennie shifted in the chair to get comfortable and continued, "I mean, you ain't got it so bad. Free food, clean sheets, and someone to change you. Why, I even did you nails for you." Her only reply was the hiss of the oxygen and the ping of the EKG. Jennie eyed the tray waiting for the Cliff’s notes. "I don't suppose you've read the Scarlet Letter?" Hiss. Ping. "Yeah. Didn't think so."
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