[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]House Call [Patch]
May 6, 2019 16:27:57 GMT -5
Post by Windshield on May 6, 2019 16:27:57 GMT -5
Episode 2.5 / Week 3 / Day 4 / Open
This. Was. So. BOOOOOOOOOORING. Windshield couldn't believe that it had been so long since anybody paid him a visit. Between the hours upon hours of sitcoms, soap operas, cheesy Adam Sandler movies, and piles upon piles of Autobot Terms of Conduct and whatever else, it all kind of blended together into one big blob of info in his brain. It's a wonder his processor didn't turn into a waffle with how much information he was taking in over the last few days. But he had to do it. All of it. He had to convince everybody this was legit. That he really wanted to change. Everybody including himself. It's not like he was having fun. Pfft, no, never, not in a million years! It was just to prove that he was serious about the Autobot business. Yep, nothing else!
Right now, he was watching several different datapads from the comfort of his bed. One was playing the zillionth episode of Friends, another the billionth episode of Cheers, and the last one a rather long and slow episode of Dr. Phil where a lady from Florida ruined her husband’s life by selling their house for a lifetime supply of roadkill. You could not make up a less productive way to spend an afternoon.
Hopefully, something would liven up the evening soon. Something—or better yet—somebody. Maybe a little bird with some good news. Perhaps, now just spitballing, an Autobot Medic with a fresh batch of completely legal contraband that Ratchet made on his own accord. Yes, contraband that was totally for legitimate purposes that did not involve getting high off all the rocks on planet Earth.
Yep.
This. Was. So. BOOOOOOOOOORING. Windshield couldn't believe that it had been so long since anybody paid him a visit. Between the hours upon hours of sitcoms, soap operas, cheesy Adam Sandler movies, and piles upon piles of Autobot Terms of Conduct and whatever else, it all kind of blended together into one big blob of info in his brain. It's a wonder his processor didn't turn into a waffle with how much information he was taking in over the last few days. But he had to do it. All of it. He had to convince everybody this was legit. That he really wanted to change. Everybody including himself. It's not like he was having fun. Pfft, no, never, not in a million years! It was just to prove that he was serious about the Autobot business. Yep, nothing else!
Right now, he was watching several different datapads from the comfort of his bed. One was playing the zillionth episode of Friends, another the billionth episode of Cheers, and the last one a rather long and slow episode of Dr. Phil where a lady from Florida ruined her husband’s life by selling their house for a lifetime supply of roadkill. You could not make up a less productive way to spend an afternoon.
Hopefully, something would liven up the evening soon. Something—or better yet—somebody. Maybe a little bird with some good news. Perhaps, now just spitballing, an Autobot Medic with a fresh batch of completely legal contraband that Ratchet made on his own accord. Yes, contraband that was totally for legitimate purposes that did not involve getting high off all the rocks on planet Earth.
Yep.