Reno of the Turks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raspberryturk) wrote2008-03-04 01:03 am
raspberryturk) wrote2008-03-04 01:03 am
Room 429, Tuesday Morning
Reno was in a much better mood when he woke up on Tuesday morning. Apparently, sparring with Faith had done wonders for him.
There really wasn't anything like bleeding to improve a nasty grouchy funk, he figured.
And, he was pleased to note, his shoes (which he had cut the tongues out of in a most sadistic manner and would have to replace), were no longer whimpering pathetically. It was a good day all around. And really, only one thing would make it better.
He would obviously have to vocalize that one thing. From out of nowhere, a trumpet heralded the beginning of what seemed to be a groovy sort of beat, all electric guitar and percussion. He took a breath, gave a nod of head, and began to... kind of sing. Mostly speak to the beat, really.
I want a girl with a mind like materia
I want a girl who knows why I'm late
I want a girl with a claw that cuts
And eyes that swirl like chopper blades
I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's playing with her weapons
She's putting up her hair
She's touring the campus
And picking up slack
I want a girl in short shorts and my Turrrrrrk jacket......
I want a girl who gets up whenever
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with stolen prosperity
Who uses a Godhand to cut through red tape
With fingernails that are tacky as hell
And a voice that is chipper like squirrels in heat
She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's touring the campus
And picking up slack
I want a girl in short shorts and my blaaaaack.... Turrrrrrrrrrk... jacket
I want a girl with a smooth left-hook
I want a girl with a steady bounce-motion
And when we spar, she'll bust in my kneecaps
We'll start to talk when she shares a hi-potion
She wants a chopper with a cupholder arm rest
She wants a chopper that will get her there
She's proud of her name and that Al Bhed language
I'm proud of my chopper and she tries not to stare
I want a girl in short shorts and my Turrrrrrrrrrrrks... jacket.
When the song had ended, to a chorus of invisible singers going 'la lala' to the trumpets, Reno just stood there for a moment, looking confused.
...
At least the shoes weren't mouthing off?
[Open-ish, though Tuesdays are the day of omg bad availability, as per the norm. My apologies go to Cake. It had to be done.]
There really wasn't anything like bleeding to improve a nasty grouchy funk, he figured.
And, he was pleased to note, his shoes (which he had cut the tongues out of in a most sadistic manner and would have to replace), were no longer whimpering pathetically. It was a good day all around. And really, only one thing would make it better.
He would obviously have to vocalize that one thing. From out of nowhere, a trumpet heralded the beginning of what seemed to be a groovy sort of beat, all electric guitar and percussion. He took a breath, gave a nod of head, and began to... kind of sing. Mostly speak to the beat, really.
I want a girl with a mind like materia
I want a girl who knows why I'm late
I want a girl with a claw that cuts
And eyes that swirl like chopper blades
I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's playing with her weapons
She's putting up her hair
She's touring the campus
And picking up slack
I want a girl in short shorts and my Turrrrrrk jacket......
I want a girl who gets up whenever
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with stolen prosperity
Who uses a Godhand to cut through red tape
With fingernails that are tacky as hell
And a voice that is chipper like squirrels in heat
She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's touring the campus
And picking up slack
I want a girl in short shorts and my blaaaaack.... Turrrrrrrrrrk... jacket
I want a girl with a smooth left-hook
I want a girl with a steady bounce-motion
And when we spar, she'll bust in my kneecaps
We'll start to talk when she shares a hi-potion
She wants a chopper with a cupholder arm rest
She wants a chopper that will get her there
She's proud of her name and that Al Bhed language
I'm proud of my chopper and she tries not to stare
I want a girl in short shorts and my Turrrrrrrrrrrrks... jacket.
When the song had ended, to a chorus of invisible singers going 'la lala' to the trumpets, Reno just stood there for a moment, looking confused.
...
At least the shoes weren't mouthing off?
[Open-ish, though Tuesdays are the day of omg bad availability, as per the norm. My apologies go to Cake. It had to be done.]