It's ya boy GUZMA (
golisolation) wrote2010-06-01 12:42 am
๐ MoM IC INBOX ๐

"Yo, it's the hated boss that beats you down, and beats you down, and never lets up... Yeah, big bad Guzma is hereโwell, I ain't, actually. Leave a message and ya boy will get back at ya. Later days, dude."
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[Which isn't to say he's opposed to that generally, just her skirts would maybe fit around his thigh. Guzma's got some hips on him.]
Yeah, my stuff's in our roomโ[Man, saying that gives him a slight flutter of warmth in his chesk]โif I did bring my clothes, they'd be in a black duffle bag.
[And while she does that, he'll be...looking for something to put these damn pants in. Maybe there's some trash bags in here? Something??? Man, where's Tupp's Grimer when you need it.]
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she makes a brisk bee-line up to their room, making a point of not making eye contact with any bugs along the way because she will not be judged for this right now, roaming around the scattering of boxes and...back alley garbage can...? Guzma this is not how a person packs, but okay, that explains the odd smell. fair enough.
somehow, the absurdity of the situation gradually takes a backseat to the action itself -- namely, she, the girlfriend, dutifully searching through her man's belongings for pants. the domestic and intimate nature of the act settles in and makes her feel rather fluttery in the way him saying our room did him in, and for a moment she just stands there like a dope...a dope holding pants upside-down.
oh.
right.
pants. good! she chuckles and sighs out the whimsy of the moment (and the idea of Guzma wearing her goldfish-patterned stockings) before hurrying back in, holding her find out triumphantly.]
You are in luck! We won't have to make a detour before dinner to get you clean clothes. We can toast to your foresight later.