Bio-Hazard Girl

Cry havok, and let loose the mimes of war!

Edited Date: 2015-01-30 01:22 pm (UTC)

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You may be laughing now but they will strike terror into your very soul. With their mime hands.

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Is that like the touch of death? Cause dude, clowns are known for that shit. You might want to answer your door.

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Who said fuck all about clowns? These are mimes. They're a lot more evil. And I'll answer the door when I'm good and ready.

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They wait in the shadows, watching you, ever hungry, ever seeking that which they do not have.

The Clownton of the Opera is there, outside your door.

Why is there a mime dressed as a flowerpot? That makes no sense, dude.

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Look, I just hired them to fuck with you. I'm not responsible for lost or broken mimes.

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I'll remind out twitcher residents not to shoot them. I appear to be stuck in an invisible box.

Hmm. I think I need to study haiku.

Also, don't forget to open the important package I left for you.

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Oh you little fucking bitch. I will fucking murder you with the glitter you shoved in this tube.

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I am totes not laughing, I promise. You may have to get past the mimes. I've almost convinced them to take me to their leader.

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Then you'll all die together.

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Now, now. Violence against mimes is banned by the Geneva convention - mostly because it's the only job crappy acting students can get during the summer.

Won't somebody think of the mediocre students?

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It is my educated opinion as a security analyst that the mimes pose a serious risk to the security of our operation. I'm showing them all out the door now. If you try to bring them back, I might actually shoot them. Fair warning.

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Shoot Jubbers too.

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Why don't you just poison her and save me a bullet?

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She leads the mimes now. Fucking shoot her, asshole!

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You fucking shoot her. The mimes are gone. I locked the door.

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Oh fuck you, I suck ass with guns. You have one, and she got glitter all over my everything. Shoot her! Or, you know, replace her pixie sticks with salt licks or something.

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You're supposed to text me things like that so when it happens she's at least a little unsure of who did it.

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Fuck that. I want her to know and quake in terror. THERE IS GLITTER ON MY DESK, WADE.

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You know, there's this thing they make called a vacuum. It probably won't help with the glitter in your hair, but it should definitely get rid of the pile of it on your desk.

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It's the fucking principle of the thing. Help me out here, asshole.

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I'm pretty sure it's against company policy to shoot coworkers while on company property but hang on, I'll double check the handbook and get back to you on that.

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Fuck you Wade. You're on the list.

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I'm on a lot of lists.

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Yeah well aren't you supposed to be on MY side?

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Yeah. That's why I dropped the minivac at your desk.

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Jackass.

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You're lucky I know you can probably hit me. Which reminds me, Danger room practice? I need someone who can actually shoot me to practice dodging. (You only get rubber bullets, don't smile so much. )

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I agree. Jubilee must die.
However, I used to live with Miss Clarice Ferguson, Queen of All That Glitters, so I have advice - this glitter problem is solvable.

There is duct tape in the supply closet - roll it backwards onto your hand to make a sticky mitten, pat your desk. Repeat with as many mittens as necessary.

For your hair, you want to wash it with cool water, then use A LOT of conditioner and a very fine toothed comb, then rinse in the coldest water you can stand.

Then go find someone with a cat and borrow their cat hair remover to get the rest.

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I'll clean this shit up later but maybe you can talk your asshole of a boytoy into shooting Jubbernuts.

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You can come watch him shoot rubber bullets at me if it'll make you feel better.

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Get fucked, glitterbitch.

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And now to be the buzzkill - both of you stop. We have visitors in the office on a regular basis and if they see mimes and clowns and glitter, they are not going to think we are professional, they are going to think we are a literal circus.

Keep your hijinx to your living areas, please. The mansion is an acceptable hijinx location, the offices are. not.

Jubilee, if you glitter bomb Cammie's desk, or anyone else's desk ever again, I am going to personally fire you. That is entirely unacceptable behavior.

Cammie, no more mimes or clowns unless you send them to the mansion.

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Look, I just h ired the creepy bastards to follow her around. I didn't send them HERE. She led them here, because she's fucking satan.

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I do not care, next time tell them the office is off-limits.

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Fine. I will. But I fucking swear I didn't tell them to come to the office.

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You hired them, you should have thought ahead to tell them to not follow her to her workplace. Think about your job and your co-workers and your cover next time, not just about how hilarious pranking Jubilee is.

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I got it, okay? Jesus fucking christ. It won't happen again.

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Okay, okay. No more glitter bombs. (At least not at the office. ) What about cake? I feel that a cakeless office is a sad office.

(Can you fire me? I'm not sure I was ever actively hired. I mean, sure, you can fire me, but there'd be no paperwork involved. I'm going to stop helping now. )

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I am not joking, Jubilee. I am not even a little bit funny. What do you think would have happened if Garrison's father had walked into the office? Or one of our previous contacts in Russia?

If the two of you cannot be professional, it does not matter if I cannot actually fire you, I will find a way.

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