Post by Shepherd Luis Raymonde on Feb 22, 2010 4:37:42 GMT -5
* WE ARE THE ,
C A R T O O N H E R O E S !
If there was one thing that could pick up a shitty week for Shepherd Luis Raymonde, it was Saturday morning cartoons. Some might have considered it a childish pleasure, a statement to wards his own infantile manner, perhaps. To him, however, such opinions didn't matter. Some people had cigarettes, some drugs, and some fattening food...he had teenage mutant ninja turtles, Rugrats, and a good ol' helpin' of Spongebob to make things all better. As far as he figured, his was healthier, too.
Yet it wasn't such social stigmas that had kept Shepherd from watching his weekly dose of animation. If there was one thing that Shepherd had been unprepared for in Spain, it was the Spanish. He'd tried watching the Spanish cartoons, but those didn't take long to get a headache. Slowly, as the weeks in La Campana had passed, Shepherd had resigned--tossing in his metaphorical towel. His beloved character friends were off somewhere having adventures without him. He'd had to accept it as fact.
A fact that this week would no longer stand. It took a lot to get a negative reaction out of Shepherd. A pacifist by nature...it took more than innocent chiding to make him want to chuck his suitcase out of the window. Friday had been such a day for him...a day spent walking around the city in a huff, ditching the remainder of the days' classes. Economics, first period--more correctly titled "Hell on Earth for a Southern boy who never once gave a damn about anything that happened outside of his hometown". His teacher knew this as well...knew it and as far as he was considered, exploited it for her own sick pleasure.
The morning came as it so often did for Shepherd--pools of orange light spilling through his closed blinds to caress him awake. His hair, disheveled and sprawled against his pillow like a lion's mane, tickling the sides of his forehead. Blurred blue eyes opened to the empty room, the ceiling fan above spinning in constant lethargy. The thought flit across his mind that it really would be lovely if his roommates ever bothered to say good-bye to him in the morning. Not...that he knew any of them beyond their first names, anyways. The morning presented a peaceful enough facade, but as the boy sat up in his bed, brushing some strands of hair out of his eyes, the discontent from the day before lingered; magnified, even, at the prospect of a day without his beloved cartoons.
But as the blankets fell from his body and he searched the floor for a decent pair of pants, a certain determination hit him. He scowled as he threw on the first clothes he could find, in a hurry to get the hell out of his room for a change. He couldn't do a damned thing about his shitty teachers...but he'd be damned if he was going to let them steal his cartoons too!
He thought as he walked, descending the stairs and walking out the schools' exit. If he was going to find a television with English channels...it would be in the biggest tourist attraction. Since the Beach wasn't likely to have a television (though he briefly reconsidered this thought), and he wasn't about to hijack a hotel room, his best bet was the Mall.
A short walk in somber mood, a few head nods to recognizable faces, and he was there. "Barcelona Glor...Gloreeyis? " He squinted up at the unfamiliar sign, wondering what the little line over the 'o' implied. He'd known of the malls' presence for months...but Shepherd hadn't been eager to visit it. They were all too fancy...too many people walking around, looking for bargains.
Today, however, nothing would stand in his way of cartoons.
Thinking himself bold, he walked into the veritable maze. The map did him no good--even in English, it was akin to decoding binary to him. As good of a plan as any he could devise, Shepherd went for the "walk around until I find something" approach.
He walked. He wandered. He scoured the place for what felt like an hour, searching electronics and game stories.
Futility was inevitable. Shepherd had no idea where to look, and his tired legs demanded respite. He took a seat on the nearest bench he could find, a loud groan uttering from his throat.
The longer he stayed in Spain, the more he pined for his old, simple life, where watching cartoons was a guarantee...not a quest.
* FRAME BY FRAME TO ,
T H E E X T R E M E !
TAGGED Open to anyone! WORDS 954 LYRICS Cartoon Heroes Aqua
TEMPLATE PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION NOTESYARRR. WHO'S READY FOR A CARTOON ADVENTURE? Ahaha. Back to srsbzns, this didn't turn out how I wanted...but meh. Not my best work, whatevsss.
