Mistaken Marketing [Tyrus]
Apr 13, 2014 1:02:04 GMT -5
Post by Madeline "Madd" McKenna on Apr 13, 2014 1:02:04 GMT -5
The refrigerator was empty—mostly. What remained was either for Pokemon, rotten, or not quick enough for certain tastes. Her check, measly for all of the work she had been doing, was burning a hole in her pocket. Madeline McKenna, even if she knew it was a bad idea, decided to go to the grocery store. She wasn’t paranoid—like other family members. She just knew, as rubber meet floor, that this day was going to be shitty. The normal-type, the lithe weasel curled up at the foot of her bed, insisted on going. “Let’s fucking go. Now. “ Maybe she was a mutant after all—with precognition.
Luckily for her, or unfortunately, the grocery store was just a block away. Any bliss at the quick walk quickly vanished.
Orange eyes were irritated beneath sunglasses. Fingers moved up and down the grocery aisles. Ahead of her, his voice beginning to grate, shifted a Pokemon. It refused to stop swearing. “There are families here, Yakuza. Stop it.” A box of pasta, shaped like the alphabet, crashed into the bottom of the cart. A jar of tomato sauce joined it with a loud clatter. “Fucking dumbass fucker—do you see what you did to me!?” Scrrreeeeeeaaaaaaccch! Linoleum was left with a jagged streak of ash. “..you asked for it, dumba—“ Sighing, realizing she was falling into his trap, the woman paused. “Idiot.” The smirk faded away on that tiny muzzle into a sneer.
Seconds later, as blue eyes digested that last encounter, he erupted into another string of profanity. This time, as the little shit was in the mood, it was set to the tune of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. Teeth crashed together in a broadcasting of irritation; her father, who had paid thousands for his daughter’s jaw alignment, would likely roll over in his grave. The asshole hadn’t died yet though. The Linoone was going to have a boot shoved up his ass! Hers! It would hurt a lot more than usual too—Madeline wasn’t exactly a twig. Her shoes? She shopped in the men’s section—women’s footwear didn’t have her size.
It had all started with cream fur and a pair of scissors. The rodent, or whatever the heck he was, had asked for a trim. Madeline had reminded him that she wasn’t a stylist. Her protests had been waved away with some fond bits of swearing. Grabbing a brush, and a comb, she had set about trimming. When finished, using his expensive berry dye (which he paid for somehow), the redhead left him with a mirror. Suffice to say, judging by his current behavior, the two-faced serpent had been displeased.
“If you say one more motherfucking word—“ She grimaced at her own mistake. Kole McKenna would have backhanded for it—which made it delicious. “I will destroy you.” It was nothing but hot air; the gruff woman, beneath it all, was softer than a marshmallow. Yakuza had pulled her out of a spiral—a downward one. Surprisingly, considering his usual attitude towards authority, the fuzzy bastard kept his jaw shut. “Thank you, ass.” When her eyes lifted she felt something on her bottom. Slapping his paw away, with a snarl, the large woman blinked.
Why was he smiling? Shrugging, not realizing she had streaks of bright dye on her jeans, Madeline continued forward. Scratching another item off the list, the much hated pickled onions, she did not notice the display in the center of the store. The Linoone had—he was now leaning against it. “Hey. Bitch.” The name drew a guttural response from the thickset redhead. Her blood ran cold. “Don’t you dare—Yakuz—“ The clatter as hundreds of cans fell apart drowned out whatever else had been about to erupt.
Someone had been peering at the cans—a very strange someone. The racist prick had did it on purpose! Leaving her cart behind, this was another store she’d be banned from, Madeline raced toward the figure. “Excuse me, are you alright?” For a moment, sensing trouble, she had reverted to her old self. The timid voice seemed out of place in the outfit of denim, torn jeans, and wool. “I apologize for—“ Swallowing and pushing her sweetie-pie side int the garbage, the voice took on a harsher tone. “My Pokemon is a dumbass.”