001 [video → backtimed to this morning]
Dec. 2nd, 2012 06:28 pm[So here's a fun image to start your day with, O denizens of this strange place: A grown man in a cowboy hat, seated on a bed in a room that is obviously not meant for him, contrary to what he's been told by the woman who seems to think she's his mother. He looks damn confused, and the more he fiddles with his PokéGear, the more of him is revealed: the golden flash of a badge, the blur of a beige uniform, something puffy seated on the bed off to his right—
After a few seconds and the sound of an annoyed grunt, said puffy thing starts moving. Then the camera stills, and anyone watching will be treated to the extreme close-up of a Starly's eye.
It’s all downhill from there. The bird starts pecking at the camera’s lens, and when Harry tries to stop it, it goes after his finger. There’s a manly yelp followed by the fluttering of feathers and a loud, annoyed chirp, and the Gear clatters to the floor. The view under the bed is as follows: DUST BUNNIES EVERYWHERE. Way to go, Mom. Ever hear of a vacuum?]
Would you cut that out? Hey!
[This scuffle continues for about two minutes, after which point the Gear is retrieved. Harry’s face comes into view once more, complete with a scratch on his cheekbone that wasn’t there five minutes ago. He looks—to put it mildly—annoyed.]
I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m assuming there’s a camera on this thing for a reason, so if anyone can see this: I would appreciate some kind of explanation. My name is Harry Truman. I'm the sheriff of a town called Twin Peaks, which—as far as I can tell—is a long way from here.
There's a woman downstairs who thinks she's my mother. She really wants me out of here, and believe me, I'd be glad to get a move on, but I don't know where here is.
[He pauses there and sighs. The Starly then hops into view, bouncing into Harry’s lap. Harry oomphs quietly.]
And then there’s the matter of this thing. It won’t leave me alone.
What the hell is all this?
After a few seconds and the sound of an annoyed grunt, said puffy thing starts moving. Then the camera stills, and anyone watching will be treated to the extreme close-up of a Starly's eye.
It’s all downhill from there. The bird starts pecking at the camera’s lens, and when Harry tries to stop it, it goes after his finger. There’s a manly yelp followed by the fluttering of feathers and a loud, annoyed chirp, and the Gear clatters to the floor. The view under the bed is as follows: DUST BUNNIES EVERYWHERE. Way to go, Mom. Ever hear of a vacuum?]
Would you cut that out? Hey!
[This scuffle continues for about two minutes, after which point the Gear is retrieved. Harry’s face comes into view once more, complete with a scratch on his cheekbone that wasn’t there five minutes ago. He looks—to put it mildly—annoyed.]
I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m assuming there’s a camera on this thing for a reason, so if anyone can see this: I would appreciate some kind of explanation. My name is Harry Truman. I'm the sheriff of a town called Twin Peaks, which—as far as I can tell—is a long way from here.
There's a woman downstairs who thinks she's my mother. She really wants me out of here, and believe me, I'd be glad to get a move on, but I don't know where here is.
[He pauses there and sighs. The Starly then hops into view, bouncing into Harry’s lap. Harry oomphs quietly.]
And then there’s the matter of this thing. It won’t leave me alone.
What the hell is all this?
