deercountry inbox.

[measuringdicks]

welcome to the trench chapter of interdimensional hostage bullshit anonymous! unfortunately no one can come to the phone right now because we’re being fucked over by the multiverse again, so leave a message after the beep. we’ll get back to you if we’re still here.

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Comments

[measuringdicks]

That works for me. I’ve been thinking about picking up something more long-range than a bat anyway, keep from getting fuckin’ skewered because I got too close.

[His success at shooting anything is—variable, to say the least. But hey, points for enthusiasm and for recognizing the disadvantages to a baseball bat!]

Yeah, we don’t wanna piss ‘em both off, we’d get the mother of all lectures.

You should! And, hey, I used to be a paper boy, I had these baskets on the back of my bike, they went beside the wheels and I kept the papers there—you oughta get something like that, but for medical supplies and food and shit. [He pauses after a moment.] I guess you could rig up a wagon to the bike too, but personally I don’t recommend it, it’d slow you the fuck down.