Emmett Andrews
Apr 12, 2011 21:58:00 GMT -5
Post by Emmett Andrews on Apr 12, 2011 21:58:00 GMT -5
[/u]The easy S T U F F . . .Name: EMMETT DESMOND ANDREWS --- "I'm sure my parents may have meant well when they threw some Scrabble pieces at the wall and chose my name from the resulting combinations, but the idea that my name is derived from a woman's name is not exactly the most... comforting thought. At first glance, my first name is German and means hard worker. I'd have been content with that if I hadn't decided I was bored and run a Google search on my name. As it turn out Emmett is a derivative of the name Emma which is English and means element. I suppose it’s not wholly horrible if you forget the fact that I happen to have been born with a penis and libido to match. Desmond means man of the world. I think it's amusing because it probably couldn't be truer. My surname is the epitome of a 'Disney prince' if you factor in that it's meaning is 'a brave man; courage, bravery, manhood.' I won't lie and say I don't like blaring that mouthful at people, but really, I would have preferred something that means 'THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION!' as opposed to 'hard working element who is a man of the world but is also brave and full of manhood. Or rather, that's my interpretation."
Nickname: EMPEROR SEXY PANTS, EM, EMMERS, MET, MET THE PET, METTIE, EMZIE, CAPTAIN EGO, EGGO, EMOLLO, EMOBEL --- "It is amazing the massive list of shitty names that people can come up with. I'll even answer to 'jackass' if you aren't creative enough to come up with something, or if you're just too damn lazy to use one of the already prescribed names I have been... bequeathed."
Age: FEBRUARY 18TH, 1987 / TWENTY-FOUR YEARS --- "It's a date connected to an age. It means pretty much nothing to me now that I am legal to any and everything I feel like doing. Booze, baby. Booze."
Orientation: CLOSETED BISEXUAL (HEAVILLY BORDERING GAY) --- "Ah, yes. Memoirs of a Geisha covers this quite well; sometimes a man's eel gets lonely and wants a nice cave to poke around in. Story. End of." Even if the cave isn't always female.
Member Group: LOCAL --- "I may be a local in this community, but it's really only for the time being. As a Marine, I move around a lot so I tend not to unpack too much."
Power(s): AMBIENT ENERGY ABSORPTION --- "There is energy locked in objects all around us. Your average cup of coffee has 303 degrees Kelvin thermal energy; your average uranium atom can devastate a city. My power allows me to absorb these and other forms of ambient energy around me and channel it into endurance and defensive force fields. Pretty fucking awesome, right? Well, yeah, but there are a few drawbacks. Numero one, I can't absorb energy endlessly, my body can hold only so much before reaching a max capacity. However, when I do reach a max capacity, I can use it for longer amount of time than if I were only 'quick charging' as I call it. At max power, without recharging, I can stay awake and alert for four consecutive days or carry the maximum amount of weight I can usually carry for twice as long, or maintain a force-field strong enough to deflect bullets for 15 minutes. Numero two, I can't channel the energy into both abilities simultaneously, I can only choose between the force field or endurance. The farther away I am from the object I'm attempting to shield in the force field, the weaker the force field is and thus the actual protection is offers. And finally, sometimes I may use this power without realizing it and end up not being able to sleep for a few days."
Play By: Cam GigandetLet it F L O W . . .
“I'm shocked sirs and ladies, you are asking me to talk about myself. I hope you've got time because you've basically just sealed your doom. Ergo, you'll most likely die here while I exalt myself. Oh geez, what am I talking about? You'll be fascinated and wowed, death won't be a possibility with Me. If you are looking for a brief intro, I will say this, people have taken liberties to compare me to 'a fat kid'. I find that ludicrous, I am no where near fat. Every godly inch of me is sexual toned muscle. Narcissus never even looked this good. In fact, I am so sexy that I'm pretty sure 'sex' is a derivation of my name in some foreign ancient language. Yes, sex was named after me because I am that godly. Though, in retrospect, I guess it's got some similarities. Fat kids love candy, I love flattery. I guess that means that I am a mental fat kid thriving on verbal candy. So, what does that mean? Well, since your brain seems to be broken or missing, I shall explain. Oh, what, don't explain? Too late.”
“When you think of me, and I guarantee you will, one of the more predominant things that'll float across your mind is the word ego. Can't help it. I love myself. And you know what? I'm entitled to it. Money is fabulous. Perhaps I might one day just do what they do in cartoons and hang a mirror in front of my face that way I always see me. Of course, if I did that, then no one else would be able to see me except from the neck down. Shame. So perhaps I won't do that. So now, my ego. Well, it's certainly well deserved. I am fabulous and asexuality isn't a bad idea sometimes. However, time and again, people have told me about myself. I suppose I could give you their opinions, though certainly my own outweighs theirs. In any case, I've been told that I am perpetually proud of myself and that I boast far too much, which is ridiculous. I feel I boast too little! Tacking onto that, the knowledge that I like to talk about myself and have people talk to me is just as true. I enjoy the niggling little feeling that I'm the topic of conversation in any light but the darker ones. You know, I'd say get a steam roller, but my ego resembles a cartoon character; it'll just pop right back up again. Save yourself the headache and money and invest in Tylenol; it's probably the safest bet.”
“I have been described as an excitable sort of person. Impulsive, by others. In my book, they mean essentially the same thing. I should be a walking Nike advert. You know, 'Just Do It'. Yep. That sums it up but I suppose more on an explanation is required. Well, I don't do that whole idle stationary thing. It just is far too common. I'm a mover and a do-er. And her, and her too, and oooh, she's nice. And maybe her as well... Wait, what? Oh, right, a personality analysis because you people are so bloody observant on your own. Right, so I'm just plain impatient. Ideas tend to be short lived since I seem to just jump right into them unless they are strategic, otherwise I just go head first and call it a day, whatever the outcome. To summarize, I'm the type that can't wait for something to begin, then I'm impatient for the end result. I hate class so I tend to zone out since it makes time go by faster. I'm not a fan of time. It really ought to pass quicker. Case in point, I love my job in the military. However, I can't just go and do my own thing until the orders are given. I fidget. Though, the second the consent is given, I. Am. Gone!”
“On the subject of exalting myself I am a fantastically manipulative and observant person. I have a very perceptive nature, naturally, a long memory and keen mind for details and plans. I see things, mannerisms and little secret exchanges, that most people overlook and seemingly I tend to ignore it often enough. Occasionally though little nuances of knowledge will interest me and I may start prodding into people’s lives just for the hell of it. Although, when I see something as beneficial to me I will not hesitate to seize the opportunity. That being blurted out, I'm a manipulative ass. In fact, I'm as manipulative as I am observant. If I want it, I get it and nothing stands in my way. I have over the years developed a variety of skills which I use to achieve my own means. I won't usually stop until I get it. Calculating, cunning, and tact, I never jump headfirst into situations involving my sweet unknowing little pawns; I generally take the time to plan and strategize and a deviation only occurs when I must detour towards a different route. Even though I can be... impulsive about some acts, I've come to realize that the things that will benefit me using people as the means are required to be worthy of a fair bit of my time. Using persuasion works more often than not, however as I seem to be completely avoidant of the normal social courtesies, I haven't the any qualms about using deceit, and if all else fails, blackmail.”
“To the rest of the world I'm an offensive person. I do often challenge the religious perception of others, because religion is just fucking stupid, and constantly question the viewpoints of society in general, because most of society are complete morons. Some of my comments may come off as unnecessary and insulting to the world, however, I see differently. Sure, I tend to insult people. It's an art form and one I've mastered. That said, I tend to treat peers and fellow Corpsman in a very poor manner and no matter whom I'm speaking to I can and will belittle them with a sexist, racist, or any other demeaning comment. (Save for military uppers, I'd prefer not to be court marshalled) I tease people, women typically, whether it is over their butt, their clothing, or their breasts, because their expressions are just bloody great. Perhaps it's overdone, well okay it's very overdone. But hell, I can't help it. I don't have any care for that little thing called authority.* Whatever, I'm still above such ridiculous things. Above all else, it could be said that I prod too much into the personal lives of other people and invade their privacy. I'm observant, thus if I see things that make me interested in whatever is going on in said idiots life, I can amuse myself with their sordid tales, I have no problem ‘accidentally’ telling other people what I hear and sharing ‘secrets’ with the world. In fact, it makes things interesting when other people who're unknowingly involved find things out. I'd say sorry, or whoops, but by now we should all know that I'm not.”
“You know that phrase 'Anything you can do, I can do better.' Well, I for a fact can and do. What can I say? I'm an obsessively fierce competitor with a drive towards success in everything I do; including anything that goes on in the bedroom included. (I thank you.) However, you'll certainly always know something done by me. Why? Because it will be so covered by a signature uniqueness and flair that screams 'EMMETT'. Panache, if you will. Anything and everything can be turned into a competition and I certainly have no problem initiating the bet. Are you trying to walk faster than me? I'll trample you. Trying to eat faster than me? No? Oh well, shove it down anyway because you'll choke while I finish. Sometimes people seem to think that I'm picking a fight but that really isn’t the case. Well, sometimes it is. You just need a good brawl to get the blood flowing. Amiright? Well, according to the behavior analysts, I seem to tie this competitiveness with a determination and persistence that can easily range from annoying to just plain dangerous. Should I assume that you want to bet or compete against, or if I'm bored and just want a competition, I'll probably find a way to harass you, and eventually force you, to consent. Easily put, I'm an obsessively competitive bastard and it’s supposedly as much a pain in the ass as my ego considering I know I'll always win.”
“I'm not a fan of change. In fact, I would rather like to just bomb it off the face of the planet. But, sadly, every one I know refuses to let me anywhere near anything with massive destructive capabilities. I think a few people have even banned me from having sparklers around the 4th of July. I mean, I'd just use the explosives to amuse myself.Not really, there are a few people I want gone...Hell, even moving to Vermont years ago was a nightmare of a change. I was quite happy in South Dakota. Let me repeat though, for emphasis. I. Don't. Like. Things. Changing. On. Me. I don't handle it well. I didn't handle moving to this shit hole place well originally when it was found that I needed to be here, and it took me almost 5 years to adjust, but I guess I can deal... now.”
“Revenge is a dish best served cold. Or so they say. I prefer warm, rather bloody and maimed because cold is quite bad for the reputation. What am I? Batman. No, in a word, I'm vindictive. Should I ever feel wronged, if I know I was wronged, I will lash out and attack the wrong doer with whatever means and power it takes. I won’t back down and it’s amazing how shall I say, thickheaded, I can be. Even if I know I'm out-numbered or out-poweredwhich is honestly never, you can't beat thisI will stand my ground and you can bet that I am the one who will throw the first punch. Bar none. No one gets that right but me. Same goes for the last word or the 'death-blow'. It's mine. Mine, mine, mine. Did I mention I'm a possessive sort? Ah, well, even if I get my ass kicked,which is also never, I'm just that goodI don't accept the word 'no' even if that might get me killed one day. Or maimed, whichever. All I need to do is attack the right person. Or wrong. Whatever. Shit, If I can't beat this non-existent entity, I've got money to pay people to do it for me and then say I did it.”
“However, there happens to be a deeper side to me that very few people choose to analyze. I won't say I haven't lived a spoiled pampered life, because, lets face it I did. And I deserve it. Though I digress from the subject at hand. I'm a tricky person to read, even if you seem to think I'm as see through as you water is in fact completely different. I have yet to encounter someone who can truly read me. Yeah, okay, sure. Sometimes I'm as obvious as a purple cow wearing loafers walking down the sidewalk. Most often though, I'm a sneaky type with a reversion to a reclusive, almost mind trapped, state. When I fall into this, I'm more likely to lash out and attack people. When I actually do this though it's my mind telling me this is its last safe defense. I'm usually the one to have done something to someone to trigger this mental safe haven and most often it’s somebody I care strongly about. It's happened only a few times; three I believe. I do have a heart you know, but it's quite buried beneath layers and layers or self importance and ego. Whatever you think, it's there. It beats for numerous things, though mostly for my mother because of the way she is. I'm saying nothing else on the subject.”
{{ *It should be mentioned that no matter how Emmett acts around everyone else, his Commanding Officers in the Marines, regardless of gender, and his parents are the few people he respects and subjects to implicity.}}
"Once upon a time, the gods saw fit to grant the world a wonderful blessing... ME! Cherubim danced and sang hallelujahs as I was expunged from my mother's womb. A grand and glorious thing had truly never happened before. Ha, lets get real. Sure, I am quite a godly creature but my creation is quite conventional. If you add up a wedding night, a shit ton of booze, and two horny adults you've officially concocted a nine month recipe for pain and swollen ankles. After nine months of kicking my mother viciously in the bladder, I was finally born on the 18th of February in the middle of a frickin' snow storm. One of a few in that year in South Dakota. For whatever reason, my mother had been under some incredible strain at the time so I was born prematurely and had to be sent to the NICU for a few weeks. When it was decided that I was fit to leave, they sent me home and I began a wonderful life of money and diapers until the age of 1 when I was potty trained. Quick learner? I think so."
"My parents, being as loaded as they are, were able to grant me everything in life. I grew up pampered and, some would say, spoiled. However, I hardly think so. I am simply privileged. Whatever bizarreness prompted you to ask about my childhood ought to be ready to have the skirt bored off of you. Of course I won't mind, you have rather lovely legs, but I digress. My childhood years were boring as hell. I did what most kids do apparently which was to spend time playing outside, being herded away from my mother's treasured garden and just basically being a handful. I seemed to have a great fascination for my mother's orange roses, and for my mother in general. We were quite close growing up and beyond. Now there is such a lot I regret, however, that is not something I'm inclined to talk about right now, cha? So anyway, around the time I was three, my mom told me I was going to be getting a sibling. I wanted a brother, because girls were as I'd put it at the time 'Girls are yicky mommy, except you're okay.' Another nine months and oodles of numbing drugs later my brother Garrett popped into existence. He didn't really get the royal arrival treatment that I did, but hey, at least I now had a brother. Apparently it was an instant brotherly, 'I own you and will look out for you' bond. We grew up together pamperedspoiledas all hell and both attended the costly schools of privacy and that's all there is to my childhood. Boring as hell, like I said."
"Hmm, so now about my mother. Well, let me just say, if you rush me, you'll be in the hospital and I won't regret it. So, I was sixteen when it happened. See, my mother was never one to let other people meddle with her children's lives. My brother and I weren't home schooled, if that's what you're thinking. We actually went to private schools the entire time we were growing up. No, I mean in the big things. Such as learning to drive a car... See, my mother didn't believe in the high school's definition driver's ed. She though it was a joke considering that most of the students who graduated from that class seemed to crash their cars, dramatically, a few months later. Pretty ridiculous if you ask me. In any case, she insisted on teaching me to drive. She's an over cautious one, but certainly it had paid off. I drive surprisingly safe, for me, even if I do push the speed limit from time to time. Whatever, so what happened was I had just come out of the DMV that day, having passed my permit test. I now had a little piece of paper saying 'Hey buddy you can drive, but not alone'. I didn't care, I could drive! So, we get home, my mom is pretty proud and she tells my dad that she's going to take me out and start teaching me to drive because I was impatient as hell."
"A few months into driving, I'm getting better and better and then the moment of truth comes. She has decided to take me out onto a highway. So far I'd passed just plain city driving never once turning a wheel towards the interstate; going 70 down the interstate, a terrifying prospect at the time, but I agreed anyway. So, we get onto the high way, everything is going pretty good. I'm feeling confident; in fact, overconfident. My mom suggests that we head to the mall. It was about two miles up and to get there we had to take an off-ramp. I get into position to switch lanes and instead of looking over my shoulder and checking my blind spot before merging right, I just flicked the blinker on and gunned it. Overconfidence was the downfall that day. I ended up hitting the front end of a semi. We got lucky in that it was just the vehicle part and that it wasn't pulling anything. It ended up hitting my mother's side of the car just barely, but it was enough to send us spinning out of control and flip us. The road was fairly empty be we still hit another car and we were all kinds of fucked up. When we stopped moving, the first thing I remember was that I'd been conscious the entire time. The inside of the car was covered in blood and I was having a freak out."
"It's like being drunk. Some of the details are vivid and others are like trying to hold water in your hands. What I remember vividly, is the blood. So much blood. Once we'd stopped moving and we're stationary upside down, I remember turning my head and feeling an incredible pain but seeing my mother was a stronger pain than anything physical I'd just incurred. She was covered in blood much worse than I was. I'd taken a few health classes so I had the presence of mind to check her pulse. It was there, if only barely. I managed to unbuckle myself and I hit the ground hard and crawled out of the car. At that point, I was desperate and had no idea what to do. So I ran. My legs were okay. Nothing broken, some pretty deep gashes though. However, adrenaline had kicked in and I was just running. I didn't know what to do. The ambulance picked me up about a half mile from the accident. My mother had been airlifted, it was pretty desperate a situation. When I got to the hospital, everything was surreal. I broke my left arm in two places, had a dislocated right arm, a cracked neck vertebrae, and more gashes requiring stitches than I care to count, I was in surprisingly decent health; minus the fact that I'd completely gone unconscious the second I was placed into the ambulance. They did, however, keep me for a few days before releasing me and after a month I was finally able to go back to school, albeit I did have my arm in a cast. "
"When I woke up, I'd apparently I never stopped asking about my mother, but hell, I was so doped up I don't actually remember. When I was allowed to leave my room though, they took me to her room in the ICU. I've really never felt bad about anything in my life, but right then, god I will never forget that feeling. First, remember that I had climbed out of the car and just run. Second, it was my fault entirely because I was impatient and overconfident and had just floored it into the next lane. Finally, the second I saw her hooked up to all the machines that were keeping her alive, I wanted to trade places with her in a heart beat. This was my fault. Speaking to my father and brother about it was incredibly difficult. They were so pissed. I'd never seen my automaton father like that but I suppose he forgave me in his own way just because of the way I felt like a guilty criminal. After a few weeks, they were able to take her off the breathing tube and various other machines and we were given the news that she was comatose. To this day, she still is. She's not dead, and her higher brain functions are still strong so I refuse to let my father pull the plug. Seeing how strongly I felt about this, despite what I'd done, I was given power of attorney over her when I turned 18. So I'll keep going to whatever means it takes to wake her up even if it means depleting myself of any sort of money. As far as the world knows, my mother was just in a car accident. The records of what actually happened are sealed and only three people know of what truly happened and that includes myself, my father and my brother. This is my own demon and the secret I guard religiously.
"After the accident, I developed a few anger control issues and it was thought by the therapist that I find an outlet. I tried a lot of things. Photography for one, which I really do, and continue to enjoy. It was calming in a way, those things in photos that are captured. Perfect in a frozen time of complete bliss and happiness. Of course, I'd say I'm damn good, considering my skills have only gotten that much more amazing with time. After a while, I suppose photography got to be too, feminine, for my father and the suggestion was made that I apply myself to sports. I tried quite a few, but the one that was really any good was football. It was heavy contact and meant I could damage the shit out of the opposing team. Especially if they're annoying as hell. Which generally, the entire population of high school losers are. It was a pretty decent thing and I found out that I loved the sport just as much as the physical exertion and contact. So, of course once I joined the team, there was quite a bit of winning going on. The only time we didn't win was the week I was out sick as a dog by contracting strep from some slut I'd slept with a few days before. Not my fault you know, she was just too dense to tell me, but dense enough to sleep with me. Don't worry, my brain cells didn't decrease, my brain isn't in my pants, despite whatever people say. Er, whatever. Anyway, half-way through that football season, my eye caught the eye of one of the cute cheerleader girls, Stacey. She was pretty much your stereotypical cheerleader; blonde, curvaceous and the cheer captain of course. I was smitten, if only to get in her pants. How I hadn't noticed her before was quite odd and ridiculous. I should have noticed her prior, but I guess I was too busy doing all her friends to notice her. Oh well. Point is, we hooked up and surprise to say that we actually entered an exclusive relationship. Hell, she was the female version of myself so this was a great shock to most of the school."
"We dated for the rest of sophomore year and into part of junior year before she started getting bitchy beyond words. Turns out she'd been screwing a subordinate of mine. Jorden, linebacker on the team. Well, shit hit the fan, I actually walked in on them in her room, of which I'd been let into the house by her mother. Well, her mother wasn't an idiot so I don't know why she let me enter in the first place. (But I always guessed she really approved of me only because my family was rather wealthy, so you can imagine why Jorden wasn't exactly a favorite person.) I found them and I snapped. Grabbed Jorden and beat the shit out of him in the hallway outside Stacey's bedroom; a black eye, a split lip and a face that looked pretty much like it'd just gone through a meat grinder, broke his arm in two places and dislocated it at the same time. I was surprised at how long I was able to pound on this guy, I didn't find myself tiring at all. Suffice to say, I'm now under the belief that women are pointless besides the fucking capabilities and relationships are overrated.
"When we arrived at home, however, there was a strange group of people awaiting us. Stuffy old men in black suits and an even blacker car. They looked like they wanted to talk to me, but all I remember was stuffing my iPod headphones back in, cranking the volume up loud enough to be heard from space, and after giving them a look of annoyance, walked past and into my home. After these men had taken my dad into his study and talking with him for a few hours, I was called into my father's study by a terrified looking maid. These old men said they had something important to tell me. About my ability. That made me cock an eyebrow, but that was about it. My ability to beat Jorden up a ridiculous amount and not get remotely tired, as they went on to explain, was due to the fact that I can absorb energy. Whatever that meant. I was tuning it all out at that point. I was seething. After asking me a few questions to which I vaguely nodded, or shrugged, this group of stuck-up men finally left. Few days later my brother and I receive news that we're moving to Vermont."
"The movers came, packed up all our shit and quite honestly I was pissed. I fucking hate when shit changes around on me. My only request to cope with this BS was to be allowed to ride the entire trip with my mother. Again, I'm sure my dad didn't really care, so I got the okay quite easily. So that's how I spent a 2 hour flight from South Dakota to Vermont. When we got to our new home, the movers started unpacking and basically stacking things in various rooms of this rather large home that had a good 20 rooms or so. I didn't really pay attention. Money is fab, so why should I marvel at things I'm used to? So, I'm pretty anal retentive about my mother. I walked with her from the transport vehicle to her new room. State of the art medical care and round the clock nurses in case anything changes. And don't think even for a moment I didn't research the shit out of each person who applied to take care of my mother. As well as telling them to sign confidentiality agreements. Only they and the four walls know of my mother's condition.
"And so began our oh-so-exciting life in Vermont. I finished my Junior year and completed high school in general at Hammel Institute. Felt very X-Men like. Here I spent from age 16 to age 18 attending Hammel and when I graduated I immediately joined the Marines. I'm not exactly sure why I chose the Marines. Sometimes I think it was because nothing in the outside world challenges me, but other times I think I was just looking for a way to legally blow shit up. There's also those great girl magnet Armani tailored Marines Dress Blue Uniforms. Ah, well, in any case I'm been with this mighty militant branch for 6 years and I absolutely love it and am just going to stay with it and make it my career. I've earned respect and advanced far enough in my career to now be called Corporal Andrews. It's pretty great. And the dress blues still make for a nice girl attractant."
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Behind the M A S K . . .
Name: Aya
Age: Twunty tew
RP Experience: Er, since two-thousand...... five? I don't really know. I've lost track. Haha.
How did you find us?: I had a mouse spasm and it clicked the banner on Subeta. Haha. Not complaining though. I've been looking for an active RP community.
Show your S K I L L S . . .
August 3rd, 2011, Wednesday[/blockquote]
The frenzy within the large manor-esque home could be considered excitable, if it weren't for the fact that it's centerpiece had become an audience and was bored by it all. In fact, he stood outside the building, smoking a cigarette and merely watching as the help ran back and forth gathering much of his things. For the most part, he was content to watch the majority of his property being loaded into the moving truck. Yet earlier in the day, while eating his breakfast, a small pre-coffee'd though crossed his mind to maybe be a caring and kind individual and offer help out with his bags and boxes, but the larger part of his mind stated simply that the help was paid to do that, and immediately the thought itself had been shot down and Emmett had resumed the chewing of his bacon.
Supposedly it was required to be an interesting and tearful day as it was the day he was finally leaving home and going to college. Perhaps if his mother had been there...
Yale had been his choice and, or course, he got in. His ego (deservingly) would have liked to chalk it up to brains, (because, lets face face, he may not have been Alfred Einstein, but the guy was genius level smart) but his common sense and rationale knew better, considering his sketchy hush hush high-school past any college would have been wary of taking, and was rather certain his father had paid them off to take him. His father, in retrospect, really didn't have much of a thought towards it, except to tell him not to fail him and at least major in something decent since he 'would not support him forever'. His brother, on the other hand, had offered up a gruff hug and the new camera Emmett had been eyeing but had decided not to buy, before beating a hasty retreating to his room to play numerous amounts of video games and essentially veg out.
At some point Emmett became aware that the movers had indeed finished packing up the last of his things into the small rented truck and had left for the college. Determined to stake out a specific side of the room before his roommate, Emmett flicked his cigarette into the dirt and ground it out with the toe of his boot before loading himself into his own vehicle for the next 4 and a half hours of his life; though not before taking a long hard look at the window of his mother's room and silently mouthing that he promised to visit every weekend, even this upcoming one.
Pulling into his assigned parking space, Emmett removed the keys from the ignition and simply sat there staring at the other students milling around, moving their own property and selves in. Suffice to say that 5 hours later, owning to numerous piss stops and vending machines, Emmett was damn glad to have arrived at the college. Or at the very least, in a spot where he wasn't moving and wouldn't have to for a little while. His ass was buzzing and he didn't want to move even to scratch the tip of his nose, but had a slight feeling that it would probably be a good idea.
However, seeing his moving truck, Emmett felt himself compelled from his Hummer to check and make sure everything was going where he wanted it to. Directing the movers was hardly amusing at all since they'd already figured things out for themselves. The dorm itself was rather large and had originally been sparsely furnished though the front 'living' area had already been outfitted with his entertainment center, XBOX 360, and living room furniture in the time since they'd arrived prior to his own. The bedroom remained unfurnished but still had his, and only his, things stacked in various places.
After all was said and done, even having taken a shower and a nap on the living room couch, and still no roommate had shown up, Emmett wandered into the bedroom and flopped heavily over his brand new, still in it's original packaging, mattress. Anyone using a mattress provided by the school was foolish as only God and the Devil knew what went on, over, and under those things. Emmett had to admit to himself, not even he would reuse a mattress he'd been fooling around on and certainly never leave it behind. Frankly, he'd probably want to light it on fire.
In any case, Emmett had become bored and hungry. The solution for which was to pick a place in the immediate vicinity and start to find out what places had the best nightlife and food around here.
Yeah, that sounded good.
