The Crescent City Night Law School Addendum the second?
Feb 11, 2021 15:43:27 GMT -5
Dave D-Flipz, Justin, and 2 more like this
Post by The Colossus on Feb 11, 2021 15:43:27 GMT -5
The Wasp had done it.
In his arms, he held a three toe-sloth, and he tried to sneak very quietly, and rather unsuccessfully past Angus Skaaland’s office. Angus watched, as The Wasp on tip-toes like some kind of nineteen-seventies cartoon trying to catch the jump on Billy wearing a tree mask or something.
The Sloth, helpful as ever waved at Angus, who put on his best small smile and waved back.
The Wasp should be said is not qualified to handle a sloth, run a detective agency, or practice the law, despite holding certifications non consecutively to do two of those things. Despite the late hour, Angus picked up his coffee mug reflexively, as the Wasp waddled past the two windows Angus was probably thinking of having replaced with walls at this point.
Behind him, Lil Dogminicus yapped gently in his sleep.
The Wasp once out of the confines of CCFC felt pretty proud of himself, he had managed to concoct a distraction to otherwise occupy the physical, not mental, giants of SLF: Scott Steel and the Aurochs. MECHA-HARAMBE was deeply ensconced in philosophical interlocution..
Actually, the three of them were probably engaged in the most serious staring contest of all time.
The Wasp’s plan was foolproof!
Get the sloth into evidence
some court lawyer..
Talking..
Things.
And Scott Steel would be as free as the hem of plus size pantaloons. The Wasp was fairly certain that was a thing. He had slept through procedures both semesters, it was a night school, after all, one couldn’t be expected to stay awake in every seven p.m. class after an evening that ended more when the sun came up, instead of going down.
That reminded The Wasp since he had moved into CCFC, Angus had this really annoying habit of not allowing him specifically to have Alcohol, AS IF THE WASP HAD A PROBLEM WITH THE STUFF.
Really uncalled for from a man who drank what appeared to be on average 600 cups of coffee per Scott Steel. Or something. A unit of measurement.
The Wasp felt really unclear on this point.
But more to the point, and the point itself, was the execution of a plan going perfectly meant it was time to celebrate, which meant, The Wasp had a date with a bottle. He wondered if he could bring a Sloth into a liquor store?
This seemed like the philosophical question of the age….
...The Wasp awoke sometime later because a child was poking him with a stick, and a small dog licking his face in a serious attempt to revive him.
Bird song felt confusing. Vision becoming clearer, The child was an elementary school-aged boy, the dog appeared to be a terrier, Boston variety. The stick was just a stick. He saw the house the child had come from.
Pulling himself in his fine new suit to his feet, he surveyed his surroundings, an explorer on a new continent.
The Wasp did not have idea one, where this was. But it was a backyard. And he had probably come through the hole in wooden fence that seemed to be about as wide as him, plaks laying inwards made him suspect SOMEONE had knocked through the fence, looking up at the tree house, a step had gone vertical.
Something was afoot here.
“You fell last night trying to climb into my treehouse.”
No, no. Too easy. The Wasp ambled casually to the house, as though it was his own, and found purchase with a handrail, and was met with a mixture of surprise and pity from a woman and man in matching monographed robes.
“Tough Night?”
The Wasp considered this.
“No idea.”
Quickly jumping into his lawyerly pose.
“I AM A DEFENSE LAWYER!”
The man sighed. He knew almost cellularly this was going to be a long long day. The Wasp refused coffee before careering down the front steps of the house in what may have passed as a poor cartwheel, had it been on flat ground, and not ended with the Wasp crashing into a Trashcan set out beside the road for collecting.
So it was Tuesday then!
Or Thursday!
Actually, the Wasp wasn’t entirely sure when Garbage was collected.
But he knew something seemed...
...Off.
The Wasp grasped it as soon as he reawoke on the city bus as it idled outside of the Crescent City District Courthouse.
THE SLOTH WAS GONE!
In his arms, he held a three toe-sloth, and he tried to sneak very quietly, and rather unsuccessfully past Angus Skaaland’s office. Angus watched, as The Wasp on tip-toes like some kind of nineteen-seventies cartoon trying to catch the jump on Billy wearing a tree mask or something.
The Sloth, helpful as ever waved at Angus, who put on his best small smile and waved back.
The Wasp should be said is not qualified to handle a sloth, run a detective agency, or practice the law, despite holding certifications non consecutively to do two of those things. Despite the late hour, Angus picked up his coffee mug reflexively, as the Wasp waddled past the two windows Angus was probably thinking of having replaced with walls at this point.
Behind him, Lil Dogminicus yapped gently in his sleep.
The Wasp once out of the confines of CCFC felt pretty proud of himself, he had managed to concoct a distraction to otherwise occupy the physical, not mental, giants of SLF: Scott Steel and the Aurochs. MECHA-HARAMBE was deeply ensconced in philosophical interlocution..
Actually, the three of them were probably engaged in the most serious staring contest of all time.
The Wasp’s plan was foolproof!
Get the sloth into evidence
some court lawyer..
Talking..
Things.
And Scott Steel would be as free as the hem of plus size pantaloons. The Wasp was fairly certain that was a thing. He had slept through procedures both semesters, it was a night school, after all, one couldn’t be expected to stay awake in every seven p.m. class after an evening that ended more when the sun came up, instead of going down.
That reminded The Wasp since he had moved into CCFC, Angus had this really annoying habit of not allowing him specifically to have Alcohol, AS IF THE WASP HAD A PROBLEM WITH THE STUFF.
Really uncalled for from a man who drank what appeared to be on average 600 cups of coffee per Scott Steel. Or something. A unit of measurement.
The Wasp felt really unclear on this point.
But more to the point, and the point itself, was the execution of a plan going perfectly meant it was time to celebrate, which meant, The Wasp had a date with a bottle. He wondered if he could bring a Sloth into a liquor store?
This seemed like the philosophical question of the age….
...The Wasp awoke sometime later because a child was poking him with a stick, and a small dog licking his face in a serious attempt to revive him.
Bird song felt confusing. Vision becoming clearer, The child was an elementary school-aged boy, the dog appeared to be a terrier, Boston variety. The stick was just a stick. He saw the house the child had come from.
Pulling himself in his fine new suit to his feet, he surveyed his surroundings, an explorer on a new continent.
The Wasp did not have idea one, where this was. But it was a backyard. And he had probably come through the hole in wooden fence that seemed to be about as wide as him, plaks laying inwards made him suspect SOMEONE had knocked through the fence, looking up at the tree house, a step had gone vertical.
Something was afoot here.
“You fell last night trying to climb into my treehouse.”
No, no. Too easy. The Wasp ambled casually to the house, as though it was his own, and found purchase with a handrail, and was met with a mixture of surprise and pity from a woman and man in matching monographed robes.
“Tough Night?”
The Wasp considered this.
“No idea.”
Quickly jumping into his lawyerly pose.
“I AM A DEFENSE LAWYER!”
The man sighed. He knew almost cellularly this was going to be a long long day. The Wasp refused coffee before careering down the front steps of the house in what may have passed as a poor cartwheel, had it been on flat ground, and not ended with the Wasp crashing into a Trashcan set out beside the road for collecting.
So it was Tuesday then!
Or Thursday!
Actually, the Wasp wasn’t entirely sure when Garbage was collected.
But he knew something seemed...
...Off.
The Wasp grasped it as soon as he reawoke on the city bus as it idled outside of the Crescent City District Courthouse.
THE SLOTH WAS GONE!