A White ＨＯＳＴ

[o] This Is Stupid

suckers — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 23:48:16 GMT

[916 Bilko; Inside (housemate locked)]

[Scratch is a naturally curious and suspicious entity, particularly to things he is not sure of. And the gift under that gaudy tree in the living room, wrapped in green and addressed to him, is very suspicious. He already was returned his strength for becoming a reclusive, stingy and ill human for that week, so why a gift? For a while he's simply staring at it, but then reasons that nothing horrible can come of it. At least nothing he would not already predict. So he'll take the box and neatly unwrap it, opening the small box inside to find...............a note?]

To: Doc Scratch
1,000 Clocks.
From: Santa Claus
...Wh-
[And, in a chorus of a 1,000 rings, the clocks strike to the next hour outside 916 Bilko Boulevard. A loud sound that could probably be heard throughout the entire block.]

Oh for the love of all good.

[916 Bilko; Outside]

[And now stands Scratch, in an expensive white winter coat and green scarf no less, on the sidewalk outside his house looking at the sight before him. Scattered around the entire lawn are Green Clocks. Some large, some small, some round and some square. Clocks of all different shapes and sizes, but what does not change is the number. 1,000 Clocks, all ticking and ringing together, already calibrated to Mayfield's time. And given back to Scratch all at once. Oh joy. The ticks and tocks are regularly soft, but all together it is enough to make anyone turn their head and stare at the loud noises in perfect sync.

And, if you come by at just the right time, they will all signal in harmony the new hour and dong and chime and make a rucus just as before.]

Scratch: Think about your clocks and what to do with them.

Stop trying to be Doc Scratch, because you just can't manage it! No one can but him. However, in his human form, we are granted permission to look into his thoughts, without him being able to interfere.

[No that's stupid. He does enjoy his clocks but he certainly can't contain them all in such a small house. And he is not lonely, because that's equally stupid if not more so. That image was merely an exaggeration of his true thoughts, which cannot be fathomed by the readers (ie: you)]

[For now, may as well stand by and watch and think of what to do with them all. Besides, he needs to guard them from a certain exiled Derse agent, turn gangster, in case he comes by and even thinks of breaking one. He has already damaged one clock and he will not damage anymore!]

[Wonderful Life Event - Dream]

suckers — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 06:28:03 GMT

why am i even allowed to roleplay.

[o] Announce

suckers — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 20:59:24 GMT

[Action; 916 Bilko Boulevard]

[Scratch is in the living room right now, scrubbing the carpet on his knees. He only noticed today, while walking around the house, that there was some teal colored splotches on it. Given the carpet is rather dark it was hard to miss at first, but it's pretty obvious that a certain boy came in without permission and left teal "paint" (read: blood) all over the place. Probably to seek him out for revenge, or some other silly thing like that. Amateur.

The dining room was already fixed when he came back the next morning, but this stain has already gotten into the carpet deep and he can't simply fix it with his teleporting. So he'll be at that most of the time, scrubbing away to try and remove it.]

[Action; Used Car Dealership]

[Scratch is at work, talking with a drone who seems interested in buying a car. A deal is made quickly and they shake hands on it. The drone soon gets into the car and starts driving off--

And then crashes eventfully into a tree.]

Oh my.

[The breaks were broken on that one, weren't they? And the drone is unharmed, or so Scratch thinks. He doesn't sound very urgent about the matter, but he is concerned and is just staring more or less at the damage. WELL This is what happens when you purchase cars from a guy who can't even drive one.]

This isn't good.

[Afternoon Phone;]

Someone tell me about cars. Anything that pops into your mind will suffice.

[Because yeeeaaah that drone boss isn't happy with what happened and frankly the job lets him make a lot of money and has stable hours that suit his needs, so he rather not make a blunder like that again.]

On that note, I want to welcome anyone new to Mayfield. You may or may not be here for long, but know that most everyone here has the best intentions and wants to get out of this place. It can be a happy place if you so wish it to be, but know that for all happiness there is an equalibrium of unhappiness. Good and Bad. When Bad happens the scales become tipped toward its favor, but quickly you will see that the scales tip back to normal. A balanced system of joy and misery. Learn to live it well while you are here.

Don't become too happy. Don't become too miserable. You won't ever recover if you let yourself fall to their games, like a dimwitted sucker.

[Evening Phone; Filtered from-- PSYCHE OUT no filter at all.]

[He doesn't care enough to filter it from a pair of suckers that made him lose sleep.]

I forgot to mention this earlier, due to my slightly panicked state, but good news: I found out who stole from me about a month ago. It took a while, but the criminal left a trail and I caught them red-handed. [Or should he say "teal" handed?] So ends a tale of mischief, lies and truths. Every good tale has a moral. Something to teach.

The moral of this one: never steal.

I am someone who does not tolerate thieves and liars. You will get caught and you will be reprimanded for your actions. Not by the police of course, because the police in Mayfield are just people given badges to make them feel better, but every action has an equal or greater reaction.

Terezi, I know you can't hear this, but know that we are now officially "even" as far as your thievery went. I forgive you. [And yes, despite the condescending tone he says it in, he is truthful.]

--I also forgive the boy who broke into my house a couple nights ago and left a mess. Seems you were in a rush to seek me out, but coming in unannounced is crass behavior. Nevertheless, you are forgiven as no damage was done. Kindness of heart? You decide, if you're bothering to listen to this, Mr. Vantas.

[o] Awaken

suckers — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 00:26:38 GMT

[Phone A; Around daytime]

...Hm.

Interesting. I was only gone a couple hours and yet it seems I skipped an entire day of linear time. Droning is really an odd occurrence. Sometimes you don't leave the body, but enter a state of unawareness of your actions. Other times, you are taken away completely and the body moves on autopilot. Then you wake up in a moving machine that is out of your control. I have experienced both ways and it is very intriguing, on a meta level. Fine tuning the mind of a person to become obediant to the whims of the one tweaking the bolts and nuts.

[He pauses and then moves onto a new topic.]

Life is a funny thing, but now I am dead as of the current events. I am sure other people here are as dead as I am, which is to say quite dead. Do the dead people seek to remain in Mayfield, under more comfortable conditions. Or maybe you seek to return to your death. Why not amuse my curiosity, by speaking with a stranger you have likely never heard of before? I'll start off with my answer first: I don't really care what happens to me at this point. Now, you should share with me your decision. If you have even made a decision that you will not turn away from.

[Private; Realize something is Missing]

[After making that phone call, and speaking with people of course, he'll go into his room and organize his belongings. The drone is not nearly as much of a neat freak as he is, and usually leaves things lying around. At first everything is where it should be. Nothing too out of place and only a jacket or two needs to be pressed and hanged in the wardrobe. But, as he reorganizes said wardrobe, his eyes wander to the high top shelf. A shelf someone would need to put effort into getting something out. The top shelf did not hold much, but it was particularly reserved for a certain small chest he kept all the way in the back of the high area. This small chest holding one of his most prized posessions, albeit one that he could not use due to his lacking human eyesight, which was the source of all his omniscience through ectobiological cloning.

This small chest, which normally had a lock on it.
A lock that was missing.

Scratch immediately reached for the small chest, ignoring his clothes for the time being, and flipped it open. Not that he was expecting anything else than what he saw. But, maybe he wanted to believe. Believe for the poor fool, who broke the lock without him realizing, that what he was seeing was not the truth.

But the truth was clear and cut: it was gone. The source of his omniscience, vanished under his nose. And it had to be yesterday, while he was incapable of stopping them. A day which he cannot recall.]

[Action; In house]

[Housemates will find today that the rooms of the house, all of them for the record, will go between disarray and neat throughout the morning. Scratch is searching for his missing object first at the scene of the crime, by ransacking every inch of the house to his content. Clothes, furniture and the like will be moved and tossed about, as he frantically searches.

No need to fear - he can easily just snop everything back into place with his teleportation instantly. But, that did not make things better on his end.]

[Phone B; Later in the day]

[Near the close of the day, as the sun begins to set, Doc Scratch goes on the phone. Not to chat like the first time earlier in the day, but to bring about a message. His tone is even and cordial as always, but there is an underlying maliciousness to his voice. Something unsettling even. He begins.]

Let me make something clear: I am a host, first before all. To those I meet on a path, I extend nothing but politeness and gentlemanly mannerisms. Even if they have ire toward me, I will hold no formal hostility unless they do something to deserve said hostility.

That being said, let me cut to the proverbial chase: there was a thief in my home a day ago, while I was away from my body. Someone who realized I could not punish them for taking what is mine and took advantage of it. I have suspects in mind, but I rather not jump to conclusions.

As always, I will extend my courtesy and say this: return the object you have stolen from me. If you do, then we will turn opposite ways and not a word of this will be spoken again. While I may hold future suspicions, no harm will come to you in any form, as a result of this larcency. This is the simplest way of conducting this situation and the manner which I prefer.

But [...] if you choose not to reveal yourself, right at this moment, then let me say this: I am tolerant of many things. Rude guests, troublesome children, arsonists and so forth. People try to break my head when they come through my door and I still invite them inside, for if they found themselves at my doorstep then it must be with some intent. Yet, like anyone, even I have my limits. I draw the line at thieves who plifer from me and foolishly believe that I will not find out about them and their schemes. As an immortal being, who would welcome anyone to my home if they requested, I put a hope that the person who enters would not let their idle hands grab at what does not belong to them. That line has been crossed and I do not take the matter lightly in the least.

To put it in a short, and very grave, manner:

This is your one and only warning. I highly suggest you take the smart option and return what you have taken from me. If I find out on my own, there will be consequences to your actions.

Do not make me angry.
You would not like me when I am angry.