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[dirteater]

 

 

 

[AUDIO / VIDEO / TEXT / ACTION]

Comments

TEXT (with picture atachment, which she should be damn proud of him figuring out how to do)

[hasmovedon]

is u ?

[dirteater]

is YOU?

[hasmovedon]

yes

[TEXT]

[sixfingerednerd]

[Hey Bea, looks like you're getting a whole lot of spam texts from an unknown caller. Probably from one of those disposable phones.]

this is what he does when he's out, he just takes phone pics of birds and sends them to her

[hasmovedon]

y u hide ?

Call

[rickdiculous]

[Well this sure is a call from an anonymous number]

Hey, bud-[urp]-dy. Y-y-you got Prince Albert in a can?

[dirteater]

[Beatrice answers the phone but doesn't get a syllable into "hello" before she's interrupted by an unfamiliar slurred voice. She squints.]

Uuh.. no? Who is this?

[Isn't the whole point of this joke to get a "yes"?]

[rickdiculous]

Check your pantry, you know, I'm...I'm pretty sure you've got Prince Albert in a can.

[gdi he is going to salvage this joke.]

[dirteater]

How do you know what I have in my pantry?

[rickdiculous]

...I'm saying you should check it.

[NOT CONFIRMING OR DENYING ANYTHING.]

[dirteater]

Oh yeah? And why's that?

[rickdiculous]

It's pretty obvious that you've got Prince Albert in a Can over there, dickweed.

[dirteater]

Ford is blocked now.

[dirteater]

If it was obvious why'd you bother asking?

[rickdiculous]

FINE! Y-Y-YOU KNOW WHAT, I'LL...I'LL THROW IN THE TOW-[urp]-EL!

[He hangs up...and the phone rings ten seconds later.]

Is Oliver there.

[dirteater]

Speaking!

[Beatrice has entered full shitlord mode]

[rickdiculous]

Oh, yeah. Y-you're Oliver Klozoff. At the f-fucking...Ford Pines residence. Gimme a break.

What about Jacques.

[dirteater]

[She breaks her shithead concentration]

Please tell me this isn't about some beef you have with Ford. Look, I just live here-- go bother him directly.

[rickdiculous]

Actually, y-you know, it's surprising that th-there's a feminine voice at all in Ford's giant pervo scitzy...Playboy Beachhouse.

[And he falls into a terrible "Ford must die" concentration.]

[dirteater]

[Beatrice doesn't really know what half of that means but.]

I'm just as surprised as you but here I am.

[rickdiculous]

Does he have you chained-up in there? Shit, man, l-let me know and I'll throw more eggs at it in a jiffy.

[dirteater]

[Beatrice bolts upright in bed.]

YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S BEEN EGGING OUR HOUSE!

[rickdiculous]

No fucking shit.

[dirteater]

[She rubs her eyes and mutters.] Ugh, cheese and crackers.

Look I don't know what your deal is with Ford-- hell, I don't even know you but stop taking it out on me just because I live here.

[rickdiculous]

No, I-I'm taking it out on the house. The...beach creephouse. His lair. The Bill Cipher Sex Dungeon. Whatever you wanna call it.

Call

[hasmovedon]

I don't think we're going to be having issues with Rick Sanchez anymore.

[dirteater]

Hello to you too.

[hasmovedon]

[Beatrice there are more important things than 'hello'. Like, for instance, this egg carton he's found.]

You very well know already that it's me. That's not the important thing here.

[dirteater]

[Hoo boy that's some stern dad-ness there.]

Alright then what is the important thing?

[hasmovedon]

Sanchez is dead.

[He expects this will get an immediate Beatrice-y response and so waits for that to pass before he elaborates.]

[dirteater]

[And here she goes delivering.]

EXCUSE ME? He's dead? As in the guy who just called us all up a few days ago is dead? What happened-- did you happen?

[hasmovedon]

I did not kill him.

[He nudges the carton with his foot. The shards of pyrite are covered in shell and yolk, but they're pretty-well shattered. There's no putting that back together, not even with eggy glue.]

Looks to me as though he shattered his own gem somehow, probably in one of his own drunken stumbles.

[He has to admit, for a very brief moment he'd wondered if she'd taken his advice to be discreet and decisive a bit too seriously. He isn't sure whether, if that were the case, he'd be disturbed or impressed.

Probably both.

Either way he doesn't mention it. It's clear from her reaction that this was not her doing.]

[dirteater]

Thank god.

[She sighs a little-- glad that Roland didn't straight up murder Rick. It was kind of surreal in a way though, how she'd only just talked about exacting revenge on the guy and suddenly he's dead.]

[Wait a minute.]

You thought I had something to do with this, didn't you?

[hasmovedon]

Only for a moment.

[No reason to lie.

He kneels down on his haunches, holding the phone between his head and his shoulder while he begins to pick through the eggy mess. He can't very well just leave these shards out here: they all know what happens to broken gems. He isn't yet sure whether or not the disease that makes cracked gems go monstrous can effect ones broken to this degree, which means it's best to err on the side of caution. These will need to be watched.]

Something so petty wouldn't be worth killing over even if you did have killing in you.

[dirteater]

[Beatrice lets out a bittersweet breath. Scoff? Laugh? It's hard to tell. She really wasn't sure how to feel about that comment. In her gut it felt like she was supposed to appreciate it.]

[Not knowing how to feel, she moves on.]

So what are you gonna do with him?

[hasmovedon]

[It is neither a compliment nor an insult in Roland's view. It's simply the truth. Beatrice is a strong girl and skilled in her own ways but she's no killer.]

Keep him, for now.

[He picks another shard from the egg and drops it into the palm of his right hand with the rest.]

We'll want to watch the pieces, see that they don't reform into anything more dangerous than he already was.

[dirteater]

[Okay this time her response is definitely a laugh. No doubt there.]

Hmm I don't know if we have room for two pets but if you insist.

[hasmovedon]

He can have the doghouse; he's better-suited to it than Winston.

[Ah, yes. The one thing that truly brings this family together: bitching about Rick Sanchez.]

Text/picture message. susan's discovered the internet.

[girl_at_the_window]

look i found this foto of roland

[dirteater]

oh my god

not enough wrinkles if you ask me but close enough

[girl_at_the_window]

there aint a cat in the world with as many wrinkles as hes got now

[dirteater]

i beg to differ

attatchment:

[girl_at_the_window]

ugh it looks like a plucked chicken

a mutie plucked chicken

with a rattail

[It also looks horribly like Rhea's cat, which gave her a nasty start, but she's not about to say so. She is going to quickly delete the picture, though]