perletwo's loose ends

perletwo — Fri, 20 Sep 2013 01:04:17 GMT

Title: I Don't Think That I Can Take It
Author: perletwo
Charachters: Angel and Cordelia
Genre: Drabble, friendship
Words: 100
Rating: G
Prompt: Cake
Disclaimer: Not mine, just on loan from ~~God~~ Joss.
Notes: Set in the early days of Angel: The Series.

"Cordy, you've got to get this filing caught up before it becomes a paper monster and eats the office."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Jeez, chill, big guy. I gotta work on learning my part for this acting gig."

Angel drummed his fingers on the desk. "The gig is ten words in a 30-second commercial."

"That doesn't mean it's not important! I have to get this right!"

"Don't make me break out the big guns, Cordelia." His brows dropped into a glower.

"What? NO. Oh no. BOSS -"

"SOME-OOOOOOONE LEFT THE CAAAAAKE OUT.....IN THE RAIIIIN....."

Cordy covered her ears. "Okay, okay!"

w00t!

perletwo — Sat, 27 Jul 2013 20:43:22 GMT

Here's the icon for snurching if any Sean fans want it:

Just credit perletwo or perletwo-ljcozy and drop me a comment to let me know you're snurching. :D

Trope Bingo card round 2

perletwo — Tue, 02 Jul 2013 02:25:59 GMT

au: fairy tale / myth	au: fantasy	unrequited love / pining	trapped in a dream	twenty-four hours to live
forbidden fruit	matchmaker	coming out (of the closet)	au: fusion	fake relationship
hurt / comfort	mind games	FREE ★ SPACE	deathfic	au: historical
secret twin / doppelganger	locked in	telepathy / mindmeld	au: alternate professions	sex pollen
unexpected friendship	au: crossover	language and translation	futurefic	au: apocalypse

perletwo — Sat, 04 May 2013 06:10:01 GMT

Banner by everythingshiny

Introducing Round 2 of the Avengers Reverse Big Bang!

Artist sign-ups open Friday, May 3rd at avengers_rbb!

Art formats welcome: drawing, digital, manips, podfics, fanmixes, videos

Signed up, got my first art piece done already. ♥

w00t! I made my BINGO!

perletwo — Wed, 01 May 2013 15:48:31 GMT

Round one at trope_bingo just closed today, and I got my single-line bingo in just in time!

During Amnesty the mods have put up some community mini-cards to keep the creative juices flowing. I grabbed one of the Smut ones, though I'm not necessarily going to do smutty fics for the prompts. Here's the card:

poker / strip poker	au: bdsm	fake relationship
cross-dressing	group / team sex	sex pollen
soul bonding / soulmates	virgin!fic / secretly a virgin	"Thank god were alive"

Fun fun fun!

Small Fandoms Bang art: The Addams Family (1964 TV show)

perletwo — Sun, 14 Apr 2013 18:14:11 GMT

Banner for "In Love and Madness" by karrenia_rune.

Checking in to the Happiness Hotel...

perletwo — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 21:52:30 GMT

Snagged from kellifer_fic.

1. What's making you happy in one of your fandoms right now?
2. What's making you happy in your personal life right now?
3. What's making you happy in your work/academic life right now?
4. Name one celebrity crush.
5. Name one food you currently enjoy.
6. Name one kind of fic that always makes you happy.
7. Name one pairing that historically makes you happy.
8. Be randomly happy.

1. In the Avengers movie fandom, the proliferation of material from the Marvel Phase One box set (which I don't own and can't afford) on the Web.
2. Having plenty of time to knit and watch movies on my recently acquired Blu-Ray player.
3. Nothing, as I have none, hence the free time (see above).
4. Jeremy Renner
5. Pineapple
6. Clint Barton/Phil Coulson first-time slash in the Avengers movie fandom.
7. Buffy/Spike anything. Or if you want to go really historical, Darcy/Lizzie. Or really really historical, John/Abigail Adams.
8. About the only way happy's coming my way lately...

perletwo — Fri, 11 Jan 2013 22:17:46 GMT

Welp, seems I'm now entered at trope_bingo.

truth or dare	poker/strip poker	bodyswap	au: space	huddle for warmth
immortality / reincarnation	curtainfic	food porn	au: steampunk	fuck or die
au: all-human	time travel	FREE ★ SPACE	game night	snowed in
genderswap	celebratory kiss	au: fantasy	de-aged	soul bonding / soulmates
in vino veritas / drunkfic	presumed dead	virginfic / secretly a virgin	forced to marry	au: cop / detective

Time to get cracking, I guess.....

Fic exchange!

perletwo — Sat, 29 Sep 2012 04:33:54 GMT

I've signed up. How 'bout you guys?

42!

perletwo — Wed, 26 Sep 2012 03:31:20 GMT

Birthdays, that is, as of today. And the fam came through bigtime with the prezzies, even though our lives have pretty much gone to sh#t and turned us all into invalids of late.

Pics, anyone?

Movie day

perletwo — Tue, 28 Aug 2012 01:43:44 GMT

Saw Bourne Legacy today. Plot minimal. Renner pretty.

Back home I'm trying to watch Martha Marcy May Marlene. I have no frickin' idea what is going on in this film. Anyone?

Perception

perletwo — Tue, 21 Aug 2012 02:08:18 GMT

Wait wait wait - did Rachael Leigh Cook just blow off a flirtatious Jamie Bamber?!? what kind of bizarro universe did I wake up in this morning?

The Closer finale/Major Crimes premiere (spoilerrific)

perletwo — Tue, 14 Aug 2012 03:47:09 GMT

Well, she had to trash her already tarnished career to do it,

but Brenda finally nailed The One That Got Away. She also hung a teenage hustler who witnessed a body dump out as bait to do it, but it all worked out in the end.

Except that that plotline hasn't quite ended.... Billy Burke's serial killin' lawyer still has to go to trial, and the kid's testimony is key. Brenda promised to find him his child-abandonin' mother in exchange for his testimony; but Brenda's gone to work at the DA's office. That puts Rusty - and the search for his mother - in Raydor's hands. Rusty to Raydor: "Listen. I don't know you? But I don't like you."

Yeah kid. She gets that a lot. So naturally, she winds up taking Rusty home with her at the end. On the one hand, I have zero interest in a window into Raydor's sterile lonely existence outside work; on the other hand, it promises that Rusty will be at least a semi-regular. This would be a good thing.

Oh, and there's one other dangling plot thread from the Closer finale. At the body dump site they found five bodies. Four are ID'd, the fifth too badly decomposed. Care to run the Vegas odds on that one turning out to be Rusty's mom?

Before the finale started, watching the ad for it for the umpty-millionth time, I said this to my mom: "If this show really had guts, they'd have Brenda quit or get fired & say goodbye mid-episode, then have that guy who she's fighting with in the kitchen kill her. Then they spend the next hour in the Major Crimes premiere working on Brenda's murder."

As for "shifting the focus of Major Crimes Unit" as they keep saying in the promos? It's shifting to getting murderers to make plea bargains. The cops sit down with the suspect and the lawyers and dicker. It's deeply unsettling and unsatisfying, helped not at all by the fact that the squad doesn't like it any better than I do.

My sister's verdict on the new show?

"I don't like her. I don't like any of them. The only one I liked on here was Rusty. And watching them make deals instead of closing cases made me feel icky. I don't want to watch something that's going to make me feel icky."

I will probably give it one more episode, if only because I also want to give Perception at least one more episode. But the early indications are not promising.

Pimpage!

perletwo — Sun, 24 Jun 2012 23:46:59 GMT

rarepairfest rarepairfest rarepairfest
FAQs, Rules, and Dates
Nominations are open here! Signups begin on July 10th!

For my BtVS friends, I've already nom'd Anya/Giles and Dawn/Xander.

For my Avengers friends, I was amused to note that my OTP Clint/Coulson is already on the ineligible list as having too big a fic/fan base. So I've broken them up and nominated Clint/Darcy and Phil/Pepper, as well as Fury/Natasha.

For my comics friends, I nom'd a whole bunch of DC Comics rare pairs - including, eligible as best I can tell, Batman/Wonder Woman.

C'mon. You guys know you've got some dream rare pairs you'd like to write/see written...

Wow. That sucked.

perletwo — Thu, 24 May 2012 04:49:55 GMT

Yeah. Heart attack. Five days and five nights in the gloriously luxurious PCU unit at ARMC. Just got home this afternoon.

Sorry. Congestive heart failure. Cardiologist gets snippy if I say 'heart attack'. Also something called "broken heart syndrome" he wants me to read up on. And now that they've blasted me with IV meds and about 30 pills a day, I'm to have at least 4 weeks of home rest, which will be disability leave, work tells me.

Had just finished wandering around the track talking to people, getting my hair chopped, taking pics and generally getting info for news coverage of Relay For Life Friday night. Had been drinking water and resting; I was fine. Then I started walking back to my car. POW. Called 911 right away, I did the right things, they did the right things.

But super super scary stuff.

How about something a little more fannish? That House finale! Kind of a whole lotta nothin', but always nice to see the old familiar faces. Buh-bye, House!

NCIS "Till Death Do Us Part" - no spoilers.

perletwo — Wed, 16 May 2012 01:52:25 GMT

Hmm. So. Yeah. That finale'd the season, all right. I guess.

Anybody on my flist who watches NCIS got any idea what that hot mess of an episode was all about? I mean, yeah, stuff happened, and people showed up and other people left and other other people came back and there was some forensic yuck and stuff go boom just like it has for the past three-four weeks, but... was there a point?

Also...wasn't Dr. Ryan's (JLC) kid a wee tiny knee-high soccer player last time we saw him? Like, say, Damien Thorn in Omen 1: The Orphaning, as opposed to Damien Thorn in Omen 2: The Prep-Schoolening.

Because I am only slightly insane

perletwo — Tue, 01 May 2012 08:17:26 GMT

I have put up a pair of art prompts at this crazy thing:

Banner by everythingshiny

Introducing the brand new Avengers Reverse Big Bang!

Artist sign-ups open Monday, April 23rd at avengers_rbb!

Art formats welcome: drawing, digital, manips, podfics, fanmixes, videos

Come, join us, won't you?

Fic: "Maker's Mark"

perletwo — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 04:47:11 GMT

title: Maker's Mark
author: perletwo
words: 923
rating: G
fandom: Marvel movieverse
warnings: one bad word, operative letters g-d
prompt: Secret Skills, at avengers_tables
summary/notes: Coulson goes for the nuclear option.

Coulson could practically hear enamel wearing away from the surface of his teeth as he ground them together, biting off the stinging volley of insults he’d really like to loose on this tight-assed bureaucrat on the other end of the triple-secure phone line.

The one who, unfortunately, held Director Fury’s life in his hands at the moment.

“I’m sorry, Agent Coulson, I really am,” the dweeb insisted. Coulson’s hands fisted at the edge of glee not quite concealed in the man’s voice. “But without that authorization, signed by the Director and affixed with the official seal by me, there’s nothing we can do.”

Behind him, Coulson heard an angry hum rise in Agent Barton’s throat, and he spared a glance back to warn the sniper down.

“Sir.” Coulson was careful to keep his tone respectfully level. “The Director has been kidnapped by operatives of HYDRA. To coin a phrase, they have ways of making him talk, and whatever you’re imagining, multiply it by a factor of awful times about a thousand -”

“- And he’s being held in an embassy, Agent. Foreign soil, a sovereign part of HYDRA’s little designer banana republic. Unless you’ve got that official request for dispensation, signed by the Director and approved by me with an official seal, you’d be committing this country to a goddamn war if you so much as set foot uninvited on that property. They’re just waiting for someone to give them an excuse to pull the trigger, you know that. It’s what the whole gambit of abducting Col. Fury is about in the first place!”

“I understand that, sir, but the Director is one of those rare cases where the man is more important than the office he holds – Nick Fury is literally irreplaceable,” Coulson insisted.

“I repeat – step on embassy soil, start a war. Are you prepared to be responsible for starting a war, Agent? Because I know I’m not.”

“We do not just leave Fury in HYDRA’s hands,” Clint burst out, unable to keep silent any longer. He took a step forward, and Coulson put a hand out to stop him.

“Barton,” he said in an undertone, the one that always said to Clint I have a plan. “Look. Mister Undersecretary. Give me an hour, please – if I can get a hold of Col. Fury’s admin – there’s a chance he may have signed the request forms and been taken before he had a chance to submit them to you, Hill will know if he did and where we can find them if they exist. If we get signed forms to you within an hour, can I have your word you’ll put that seal on them then and there and give us the go, sir?”

There was an audible exhalation on the other end of the line. “You have my word. One hour, Coulson, and then you and your people stand down, or face prosecution, you hear me?”

“Yes sir! Thank you sir.” Coulson clicked off, squared his shoulders. “Barton. With me.”

The two men hastened down the hall to an elevator, which Coulson activated with his swipe card. The elevator took them directly to the floor which held Fury’s office and private quarters.

Once in, Barton began rifling stacks of paper on the desk, focusing particularly on the outbox. Coulson, meanwhile, went directly to a rack of blank forms.

“If we’re lucky, what we’re looking for should be at or near the top of one of these piles -” Clint began, but Coulson waved him off.

“You never saw this,” Coulson said, and Clint looked up.

Coulson took a deep breath and held it, turned his head on his neck, rolled his shoulders. Then he took up Fury’s favorite pen in his non-dominant hand, held it up, and scribbled quickly on the line marked X at the bottom of the form: Nicholas J. Fury.

Clint peered carefully at the results, and his mouth fell open. Coulson had produced an exact replica of Fury’s signature, with a dashed-off ease and light pen pressure that kept it from looking too studied.

“You – you just -” Barton began when he found his voice, with a note of giddy pleasure in the words. His head swam with the possibilities a power like this opened up – Fury-mandated caramel macchiatos in every breakroom! 1920s Fashion Fridays! The potential for mischief was endless!

Coulson looked up from the blanks of the form he was quickly filling out.

“If. You tell anyone. I know how to do that,” he said quietly, “I will kill you.”

Clint’s face fell, but his sharpshooter’s eyesight locked in on Coulson’s and scrutinized its expression, and he felt understanding click into place. Coulson regarded forging Fury’s signature as the nuclear option, the WMD of his paperwork arsenal, and he took the responsibility the skill gave him very seriously.

That was why he kept it a secret – only now, he’d shared it with Clint. Which left him awed and honored, and honestly a little taken aback, as he couldn’t imagine why. Lord knows Clint was the last person Clint would trust with a secret like that.

Coulson finished up the forms and examined them. After a moment’s thought he wrinkled the paper slightly, added the ring impression from Fury’s coffee cup in a corner and wiped it away, leaving only a faint residue. He nodded and tapped the papers’ edges on the desk.

“Let’s go,” he said, and Barton followed him down the hall at a brisk pace.

They had a Director to rescue, after all.

Fic: "Personal Prerogative"

perletwo — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 04:51:33 GMT

title: Personal Prerogative
author: perletwo
words: 694
rating: G
fandom: Marvel movieverse
warnings: none
prompt: Suit, at avengers_tables
summary/notes: Coulson likes to keep his life nice and tidy.

Staring down the barrel of his fifth decade, Phil Coulson has got his life arranged exactly the way he wants it.

Sure, some people might look at it from the outside and think it a little anal retentive, a little stuffy, with just a hint of obsessive-compulsive disorder on the side. But it suits him, down to the ground.

To understand why, all you have to do is look at his choice of careers. He entered the Army on the G.I. Bill to gain funds for college, and gave up control of virtually every aspect of his life to military regulations in exchange for his tuition. While there he trained for Special Forces, with an emphasis on counter-terrorism. That posting took him to all the parts of the world most ravaged by war, famine, toxic politics – all the big abstract forces that buffet the lives of ordinary people into complete disarray.

The Green Berets brought him to the attention of the nation’s intelligence community, and the CIA shifted his focus from counter-terrorism to psy-ops. While working there he caught the eye of Col. Nick Fury, who brought him into S.H.I.E.L.D., and took his game up to a whole new level.

Is it any wonder that Phil Coulson likes a certain level of control over his environs when and where he can get it? Including, but not limited to, his office, his vehicle, his home, and his personal relationships.

By the time he passed 30, he’d developed a solid database of opinions, rating everything from architecture to toothpaste options on a scale of best, very good, tolerable, substandard and unacceptable. Now that he has a measure of choice, he chooses the best whenever and wherever he can – it offsets the amount of time he’s spent enduring the worst the world has to throw at him. Moreover, his employers provide so many of life’s essentials so much of the time, that Coulson has the disposable income to indulge himself in the things that suit him best.

The personal relationships, though, have not been so easily bent to his choices.

Take Pepper Potts, for example. When he first met her, the day Tony Stark returned from captivity in Afghanistan, he knew she would be perfect for him. She’s beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated, discreet, and saddled with responsibilities above and beyond the call of any duty – responsibilities she manages with grace and style. With the exception of private versus military sector lives – very different points of view, unfortunately – she might well be described as Coulson’s opposite number.

So it only stood to reason that once he rescued her from Obadiah Stane’s mad rampage, Coulson made a full court press to woo her into a romance. They were evenly matched in every respect, and frictionless in their relationship – the most difficult thing was forcing their overcrowded and largely unpredictable schedules to mesh.

Pepper Potts was, unquestionably, the best of women; the best of romantic partners. Phil Coulson was not a man to say no to the best when he was lucky enough to find it, and get it.

But he did.

He broke off the relationship when it reached the decision stage: keep things casual, or exchange keys. Work was his given excuse; in his field, work is always an inarguable excuse.

But the truth is, he broke off the relationship because it was perfect. And stuffy. Airless. Stiflingly predictable.

Now, of course, he’s stage managing the Avenger Initiative, and deals exclusively with the least predictable people on the planet. Their lives are as operatically messy and sprawling as the crises they were assembled to deal with. Not least of them is Agent Barton, the mouthy, sarcastic, preternaturally accurate sniper with a penchant for archery and absolutely no sense of personal boundaries.

Barton invades Coulson’s space. He barges in unannounced, destroys the pristine symmetry of Coulson’s schedules, drags his feet on paperwork and procedure, and blows through the airlessness of Coulson’s life like a tornado. In all things but his aim, Barton is about as far from perfection as it’s possible to be.

And yet still, now that Barton’s in it, Phil Coulson’s life suits him, down to the ground.

CSI - Stealing Home

perletwo — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 17:27:55 GMT

*yaAaAaAaAawwwwwwwwn*

....that is all.

Fic: "Palliative"

perletwo — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 07:16:00 GMT

title: Palliative
author: perletwo
words: 946
rating: G
fandom: Marvel movieverse
warnings: none
prompt: Hobbies, at avengers_tables
summary/notes: what Coulson does when he can't sleep.

David Greenwood was tired. He knew parenthood would be difficult, he knew it would be exhausting. But nothing had even come close to preparing him for this.

When his wife Anita went into labor nine weeks early, the only thing either of them could feel was sheer stark terror, and that coupled with adrenaline and gallons of very bad coffee had fueled them ever since. John Jacob Greenwood weighed in at three pounds, eight ounces at birth and spent his first month of life in an incubator, like a baby chick. Now at five pounds J.J. was in an isolette, but every day was a struggle, and the NICU staff gave no hint that they might be taking him home anytime soon.

While making a wee hours of the morning run for more of the bad coffee, David couldn’t help but take a quick detour to peek in the NICU. J.J. might be tiny, but damn if his son wasn’t beautiful, and neither of his parents could resist any chance to drink in the sight.

But with terror a constant buzz in his ears and sleep a distant memory, David wasn’t prepared for the sight of a stranger handling his baby.

A bland-looking man in suit slacks and a wrinkled dress shirt, sandy hair receding from a brow creased with worry lines, an aquiline nose and gentle smile held J.J. to his chest and walked a few steps to and fro with him, talking to him softly. The lines of his face were softened with contentment, and J.J. seemed to hold all his attention.

David cleared his throat. “Scuse me. Who are you and what the hell are you doing with my son?” he demanded, voice low so as not to wake the baby.

The man looked up, smiling more broadly. “Oh, hi. I’m Phil. I’m a volunteer cuddler.”

David shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. “That – you – oh. Right. They told us about this. People come and just, like, hold the babies? So we parents can get a break?”

“A little more than that – we’re supposed to engage their attention, the whole sensory stimulation thing. Talk to them, and I took a course in infant massage,” Phil said, shrugging. “But that’s basically the idea.”

David took a step closer and ran a fingertip down his son’s soft cheek. “I thought it was all just, like, little old ladies from the hospital auxiliary. Do you work here?”

Phil chuckled, once, dryly. “No, I don’t. I’m a civil servant. With a completely demented schedule and high stress levels. And I’ve got insomnia on top of that. So when I heard about this and talked to the hospital, I volunteered to be the one coming in at all the bizarre hours of the night, since my circadian rhythm is all screwed up and these little guys don’t really have them.”

J.J. made a coughing giggle, and Phil rocked him a bit on his shoulder. David grinned, and Phil lifted the baby a few inches off his shoulder. “You want to take him? I’m sure they’ve got somebody else who could use my company…”

David took the baby, and Phil chuckled for real, watching a wave of baffled, exhausted joy wash over his face. “Nothing else quite like it, is there?”

“I had no idea,” David admitted sheepishly. “You got kids? That how you got into this?”

Phil inclined his head at the unspoken you’re not some kind of perv, are you subtext.

“Yes and no. Many many decades ago, back when I was 17 and stupid, my high school girlfriend got pregnant and we got married,” he explained. “She went into labor at six months. The baby didn’t make it, but the few weeks we had him were the most – intense -” He looked away, drew a breath. “And I’ve walked around with a little permanent hole in my heart ever since, about this big -” his hands described a sphere about the size of a baseball, “- and when I read a newspaper article about this volunteer cuddler thing, I knew it was just the perfect thing for me.”

“Your wife do it too?” David shifted the baby a little closer to his chest.

“Oh. No. No wife, no kids, no pets. Marriage fell apart after the baby died, best thing probably, did I mention we were young and stupid? Then I got into a committed relationship with the toughest paying job you’ll ever love, and that’s been that.”

He reached out, adjusted the tiny watch cap on J.J.’s head. “They’ve got volunteers who make these things, and I’d do that if I knew how or had the time, but I don’t. And I give money to the hospital, of course. But it seems like the best thing I can do is just, you know, show up and be here.”

They turned their heads at the sound of a soft thin cry, and with a shrug, he turned for the door. “Sounds like I’ve got another customer.”

“Hey.” Phil turned back. “Anything, umm, we can do for you? Like, a thank-you?”

Phil tilted his head, considering. “You’re wearing a cross. You religious?”

“Yeah but no, but – yeah, kinda,” David stammered. “I mean, we’re way out of practice, but we been really jammin’ the Big Guy’s hotline the last few weeks, you know?”

“Oh yeah, I know.” Phil grinned. “If you can spare a prayer for Myles Coulson every now and then when you think about it, that’ll do just fine.”

David smiled. “Will do,” he said absently, lost in his baby’s eyes again.

Phil smiled and slipped back into the NICU ward.

Elizabeth Shue: Blood Whisperer

perletwo — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 20:16:06 GMT

So I finally caught up with this week's CSI ep on comcast's on demand service - Elizabeth Shue's CSI debut. I was not terribly impressed. But she only interacted with Russell and Greg this ep, so I guess I'll reserve judgment until I see how she integrates with the entire cast.

Thoughts, flist?

Ice packs go better with crappy DVDs.

perletwo — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 02:25:07 GMT

In this case, I iced my bad knee while watching my spankin'-new DVD of Twilight: Breaking Dawn Pt. 1. On which I have only this to say:

BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA THANK YOU STEPHENIE MEYER. signed, Team Anyone But Bella.

Well, that's a relief.

perletwo — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 19:36:34 GMT

My missing Social Security card is missing no longer! Turns out I had put it in a safe (i.e., unfindable, unrememberable) place.

Just yesterday I took a stroll down Dot Gov Avenue, looking for info on how to get a replacement card. Answer: with no small amount of annoyance and expense. Now I don't have to! :D

The Crazy True Story of the Zanesville Zoo Escape Newsmakers: GQ.com

perletwo — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 21:23:38 GMT

"I will hear confident estimates of the number of big cats—tigers, lions, and so on—in Ohio that vary from the low hundreds to the low thousands. The strange truth is: Nobody knows. No one is sure how many there are, or where they are." This is fascinating. And disturbing. And fascinating.

Read More http://www.gq.com/news-politics/newsmakers/201203/terry-thompson-ohio-zoo-massacre-chris-heath-gq-february-2012#ixzz1m14WTBt3

The Crazy True Story of the Zanesville Zoo Escape Newsmakers: GQ.com