Monsieur_LeBehemoth (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} mrbehemoth) wrote,@ 2007-12-04 23:08:00 |
|
The Tweedles, some things what will go in it, innit?
'Twas brillig. In fact, it was a few minutes after brillig. Dee forced open his crusty eyes. A gently heaving Himalaya of pale flesh filled his field of vision, and quivered as he groaned. Somewhere beyond the peak, he felt his toes wriggle under the covers, and gritting his teeth, he swung himself sideways and felt cold air rush over his feet. They landed dully on the remnants of what had once been carpet, and Dee caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror in the corner.
He winced. It was a sight that never got any prettier.
Enveloped in the tartan monstrosity he was pleased to term a dressing gown, Dee shuffled into the kitchen, where he was confronted by his brother's pachydermic posterior looming out of the open fridge.
He winced again.
Dum stood and turned to face him, an open milk carton in hand. 'You're only just up, then.'
'Uh,' Dee rubbed his eyes. 'Yes. Late night, late night.'
'Building your models, again, I suppose.' Dum sniffed. 'Wouldn't find me wasting my time that way, nohow.' He tipped the carton throatwards, sending rivulets of milk down his front.
Dee looked his brother up and down distastefully. His nose wrinkled as he took in the straining seams of the knickerbockers, and the horribly childish peaked cap. 'Must you dress that way?' he said.
Dum grinned. 'Been working. Big crowds today. They ate me up. Got to keep raking it in, yes?'
'Yes, but...' Dee gestured to the uniform. 'Is all this...necessary? There's no dignity in it.'
'And you're quite the expert on dignity, aren't you?' said Dum, eyeing Dee's rumpled, garish dressing gown and the wild tufts of hair leaning stroppily from his head. 'Waking up at four in the afternoon, really.'
Dee lumbered to the table and eased himself into a much-too-small chair. 'I just don't see why you can't dress more normally.'
'They pay to see what they've seen in pictures. Simple commerce. They're not coming out to take happy snaps of any old fat man they see waddling about. The outfit is the whole point.'
'But - '
'And you know they'd pay even more to see both of us...' Dum drained the carton and tossed it across the table.
It rapped Dee on the fingers, and he closed his eyes slowly. There was a reason he had resolved to stop bringing this up.
'Twas brillig. In fact, it was a few minutes after brillig. Dee forced open his crusty eyes. A gently heaving Himalaya of pale flesh filled his field of vision, and quivered as he groaned. Somewhere beyond the peak, he felt his toes wriggle under the covers, and gritting his teeth, he swung himself sideways and felt cold air rush over his feet. They landed dully on the remnants of what had once been carpet, and Dee caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror in the corner.
He winced. It was a sight that never got any prettier.
Enveloped in the tartan monstrosity he was pleased to term a dressing gown, Dee shuffled into the kitchen, where he was confronted by his brother's pachydermic posterior looming out of the open fridge.
He winced again.
Dum stood and turned to face him, an open milk carton in hand. 'You're only just up, then.'
'Uh,' Dee rubbed his eyes. 'Yes. Late night, late night.'
'Building your models, again, I suppose.' Dum sniffed. 'Wouldn't find me wasting my time that way, nohow.' He tipped the carton throatwards, sending rivulets of milk down his front.
Dee looked his brother up and down distastefully. His nose wrinkled as he took in the straining seams of the knickerbockers, and the horribly childish peaked cap. 'Must you dress that way?' he said.
Dum grinned. 'Been working. Big crowds today. They ate me up. Got to keep raking it in, yes?'
'Yes, but...' Dee gestured to the uniform. 'Is all this...necessary? There's no dignity in it.'
'And you're quite the expert on dignity, aren't you?' said Dum, eyeing Dee's rumpled, garish dressing gown and the wild tufts of hair leaning stroppily from his head. 'Waking up at four in the afternoon, really.'
Dee lumbered to the table and eased himself into a much-too-small chair. 'I just don't see why you can't dress more normally.'
'They pay to see what they've seen in pictures. Simple commerce. They're not coming out to take happy snaps of any old fat man they see waddling about. The outfit is the whole point.'
'But - '
'And you know they'd pay even more to see both of us...' Dum drained the carton and tossed it across the table.
It rapped Dee on the fingers, and he closed his eyes slowly. There was a reason he had resolved to stop bringing this up.
