you’re worth taking a beating for…
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@barryjallen
you’re worth taking a beating for…
Maybe it’s for the best you didn’t get snowed in at your lab? You probably can’t get it right because your kitchen wasn’t made for that type of work. It’s not the proper equipment and no amount of tinkering will help it become proper. This weather just puts me in a ‘never leave the house and sleep forever’ mood honestly. It’ll be over before you know it, and as soon as you’re reunited with your lab you’ll forget all about the pain it caused you.
No, Peter. Being snowed in your apartment just when you're running out of Dr. Pepper is not for the best. I feel as though I've done something to the Gods-- you know, maybe it was that one time the cashier lady-girl gave me too much change and I walked off without correcting her? Karma really is a bugger. Ironically, I can't sleep with no caffeine in my system. Without my Dr. Pepper, I'm pretty screwed for slumber. Potentially the pain could go away-- but there's no guarantee. I could be cursed with this pain for life. One day-- when I'm hopefully married with kids (one girl, one boy)-- I'll look back on this time and feel the same great depression I've felt on this day.
With this blizzard going on I suppose I have to resort back to this website if I want to keep communications with others going. It’s been awhile though, how is everyone?
I'm simply terrible, Peter. Not only was I snowed in the wrong place-- evidently my apartment and not my lab-- no matter how hard I try, I just can't get my kitchen to burn sulphur sufficiently. The best it does is burn essential oils and I don't know about you, but this weather doesn't exactly put me in the mood for a "Bali Sandalwood Fruit Fusion". It's been painful.
TASK: #001 - SEVEN DEADLY SINS (GREED but not really)
GENERAL NOTES: The most irrelevant thing I've ever written but I had to get it up before Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum (Kels and Cee) ate me.
They didn’t believe me. I was eleven: one night, something just came into our house like a tornado. A blur. Somewehre inside the blur, I saw a person. My dad went to fight it - I tried to get him when suddenly, I was twenty blocks away from our house. Nobody believed me. They thought I was trying to cover for my father. But what I saw that night, was real— as real as the man that ripped down that metal door with his bare hands.
And excessive sweating. Are you sweating excessively?
Christmas is such a sham holiday for the wealthy to shovel money into their corporations under the guise of cheer. To falsify charity only to forgo it the next day.
It also symbolises the birth of our Lord and saviour, Jesus Christ. Praise.
Just like you favour your cooking skills. See? We’ve come full circle. You named a rat Nostradamus? Interesting. That’s admirable, I’m sure your rats return the affection with as much sincerity as they can. Then let me assure you that I possess technique. I’ve been cooking since I was tall enough to reach the stove, Barry. That’s sweet. You’re taking her to the formal, right?
I don't appreciate your condescending attitudes, Gwen Stacy - especially when they're regarding the love I have for my rats. Yes, you'll find, I did. Nostradamus: the great prophet. I hoped little rat Nos would do give me the same kinds of results-- dare I say I was wrong. He just ate lots of food ... lots and lots of food. Oh, Nos-- little Captain Nossy. "... with as much sincerity as they can." Ha. I will have Gwen Stacy know rats possess the greatest of hearts when it comes to their return of affection. Since you were tall enough to each the stove, huh? Last week was a bit late to start cooking, don't you think? Of course. I asked her, she complied-- she's picking me up at 7:30, God have mercy.
It is? I am — I am absolutely shocked. Bewildered even. I just don’t know how on earth I could have missed something like that. You’d think it’d be so obvious. Some journalist I am, huh?
Precisely. Exactly so. It's not in my place to shame you for not knowing, Lois; I keep it pretty close to my heart, you see. Sometimes I think people know, but then I'm reminded they can't, otherwise she would know. You can't know something that significant and keep it hidden-- it's one of the flaws in human nature.
TEXT: PETER ⇄ BARRY
PETER: But I don't like candles?
PETER: You're really just going to leave your best friend with no present on Christmas. Standing there in the cold with nothing?
BARRY: Mature.
BARRY: You have a house, don't you? If you're stood out in the cold, go inside.
TEXT: PETER ⇄ BARRY
PETER: What if she hates candles Barry?
PETER: You're not very good at this whole secret thing when it comes to presents Barry.
BARRY: Everyone loves candles, Peter. And don't you go saying "I don't" - that will foil my alternative gift idea for you.
BARRY: ... which I've just given away for the second time.
BARRY: You're getting nothing.
TEXT: PETER ⇄ BARRY
PETER: A candle? Really? Gwen, my friend not beloved, will like a candle?
PETER: You got me firming lotion?
BARRY: Gwen will love the candle you're going to the store to get her right this minute, yes.
BARRY: Christ.
BARRY: Not any more, apparently.
TEXT: PETER ⇄ BARRY
PETER: Christmas?
PETER: I'm putting my trust in you Barry Allen, don't fail me.
PETER: Gwen bought me a gift and I want to return the favor. I'm just at a loss when it comes to actually getting her something. What do girls even like?
BARRY: There is only one answer: you have to get your beloved a candle-- cinnamon if we're being specific. Christmas is a time for candle-giving, my friend.
BARRY: I don't have time for genderising Christmas gifts. All the men in my life are receiving firming lotion -- you're never too old to start the drawbacks of ageing!
TEXT: PETER ⇄ BARRY
PETER: You've bought a present for a girl before right?
PETER: I mean I would assume so since Iris is a girl, but than again maybe you just give her mixed chemicals for Christmas.
BARRY: What's the occasion?
BARRY: I'll have you know I'm the master at giving gifts, regardless of gender. Hit me.
Because they’re your own, and you’re proud of them. It’s the same reason as to why you’d favour Edison over any other rat. I do know how to properly beat an egg! Though that doesn’t stop me from being shocked that you’d make me pay for one of your cooking classes. It was a lot easier when you weren’t talking about cooking, and stuck to talking about Iris, or the latest and greatest trick Edison’s performed.
I favour Edison over every other rat because he's genuinely the best one there is-- that's excluding TinTin and Nostradamus. Each of my rats get the same love. You think you do, that's the thing: everyone thinks they can properly beat an egg until I've shown them how. It's all in the technique, something not a lot of people have. If you're after the latest in Iris News, we went shopping yesterday and she got me a new belt. It's pretty neat-- has a fox on the buckle. As for Edison, no news there to tell.
What can I say, Barry? Your scientific vocabulary, love for beady-eyed rats, and ability to never be on time to anything ever really just captured my heart and soul. I just never had the courage to tell you until now.
I'm glad you've found it within yourself to be open about your infatuation; I would never have known otherwise. But-- much to your dismay-- my heart is being kept for another.