Madeleine 'Maddy' Ricks (
maddy_ricks) wrote in
birthright_rpg2013-09-13 09:51 am
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Damn the Man
At twenty-four years old, Madeleine Ricks was trapped in the body of a fifteen year old. Or so it appeared to the rest of the world. At 5’5”, she was of average height, but thin as a rail with limited curvature. The results were infuriating. Carded for alcohol, carded for smokes, and the latest insult, carded for Gore Fest at the Huntridge Theater. Only this time, she had stuffed cash in the pocket of her overalls and left her ID card at home.
The employee – who had barely scratched eighteen himself – suggested she bring her mother to sign a release form.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” she screeched. She slapped her palms on the plexi-glass that separated the ticket salesman from the throng of fans splattered in fake blood outside. Making a scene wouldn’t get her anywhere. On a cognitive level, Maddy understood it. But she had a hell of a temper. She grabbed the paper and rolled it up lengthwise. “Do me a favor, okay? Heh… you take this release form and you gently guide it up your pimple-covered ass!”
She left the window and paced in front of the building, chewing a hangnail.
[Thread: Open to Anyone]
The employee – who had barely scratched eighteen himself – suggested she bring her mother to sign a release form.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” she screeched. She slapped her palms on the plexi-glass that separated the ticket salesman from the throng of fans splattered in fake blood outside. Making a scene wouldn’t get her anywhere. On a cognitive level, Maddy understood it. But she had a hell of a temper. She grabbed the paper and rolled it up lengthwise. “Do me a favor, okay? Heh… you take this release form and you gently guide it up your pimple-covered ass!”
She left the window and paced in front of the building, chewing a hangnail.
[Thread: Open to Anyone]
no subject
He approached the ticket booth, making his purchase. He turned and nodded at her before entering the double doors.
Once inside the lobby, he bypassed the concession stand. "Emergency exit only, alarm will sound," Devin read under his breath. After a moment of searching, he found something promising, a black door leading to the garbage bins.
He cracked it open, peeking his head out. He gave two high pitched whistles. Dorky, but effective. The writer had a plethora of experience.
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“You want some popcorn? I’m starved.”
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Devin nabbed a spot in line, retrieving his wallet from his jeans pocket. "So, you like Catholic School Cannibals. I heard it's pretty decent."
He grabbed a pack of Twizzlers from the stand and gestured to her with it. "Now, here's the question. The bloodier, the better?"
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“I know what you’re thinking. Stripper, right?” The smile on her face made it clear that she was kidding.
“Where do you come down on the blood thing?”
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Devin offered her the package. "Well, it depends. Movies like these, half the fun is in how bad they are. Blood, guts, the whole nine."
"Buuut...then there are the classics, like Jaws, where the movie sets you up on the big monster first. I do enjoy that."
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She stole a Twizzler and let it hang out of her mouth. At the front of the line, she counted cash onto the counter and asked for a large popcorn with extra butter and a Dr. Pepper.
“Ever use this as a straw?” she asked him.
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Devin was next, and he ordered his own popcorn and a vat of Coke. "Of course. When you're finished drinking, the Twizzler tastes all bubbly. That's the best."
His purchases in hand, he led the way to the inner theater. The lights were at an ambient level still, enough to guide his way to a row of four empty seats. The chintzy red fabric rubbed against his arms.
"Let the beheadings begin."
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“I’m calling castration. We can try to guess what they’re using as testicle debris. I think grape jelly.” She sipped at her soda. “I always wanted to work in a props department. You could experiment with what looks most like entrails.”
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Devin looked at her.
"Redrum."
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She shuddered.
"I wanted the evil bushes to get him, but they wrote the bushes out of the movie."
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"Okay, if we're going to be Gore Fest buddies, my name is Devin."
He studied her seriously for a moment. "You look like a...Joan."
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She squinted in the dark theater. She didn't feel like a Joan, but as long as she was channeling Joan Jett and not Joan Collins, she could live with it.
“It’s Maddy. D’s, not T’s.”
She stuck her hand over the arm rest for a shake. A bit belated, she knew, since she had already molested his cheek, but hey. Better late than never.
no subject
"I took a stab in the dark," Devin said, grinning. "Get it? A stab in the...yeah." He leaned back against the chair, and there was already a foot solidly planted in the back of it.
He leaned forward again. "I can safely say I've never met a Maddy before."