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dizzy_landA dishevelled man is walking aimlessly about Dizzy Land, looking around himself in confusion, before his silent contemplation is interrupted...
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'" The man takes a step back in surprise, and looks from mouse to cat back to mouse again in what could be termed dismay, if dismay were a thousand times as intense and mingled with pure, unadulterated terror. “Leon Czolgosz,” he says after a long pause, in a voice that has a noticeable accent.
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles. Ah. Now here’s a question that he’s wanted to answer for the world. Though he cannot, of course, shake off the terrible unease these creatures imbue him with, when he speaks next it is with more firmness.
“My quest is to set the poor man free from the bonds inflicted on him by the rich. My quest is to spread anarchy, because it is only through anarchy that we will be free; to spread the teachings of Miss Emma Goldman; to ensure that the poor man has a voice; to ensure that he may not suffer in silence. For this quest, I killed the President of the United States. For this quest I died, and for this quest I will readily die again,” he adds with vehemence.
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'" “One! I desire for the poor man to be equal to the rich man, which can only gained in anarchy, so I would wish for anarchy. Two, I would wish for tyrants throughout the world to be brought to their justice. As for Three…” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Perhaps Miss Goldman could love me?”
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?" He shrugs again. “I would say no. It is not right for one man to have many wishes when other men have three. It is not fair.”
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'" “Do you not listen? I have brought with me the revolution! I know how to change the world!” Czolgosz hisses. “I help to try to bring the revolution, when those who know what to do are too valuable to sacrifice. And…and yet the people do not follow me. I set them free, and yet they beat me and killed me… No! I must not think like this.” He hides his face in one of his hands for a moment.
When he looks up, he is considerably paler than before, and his face (before burning with passion) is now drawn and looks exhausted. “I have worked in a factory, baking bottles, and doing other such things,” he enunciates tonelessly. “Many years of work. Since I was ten, and I am twenty-eight now. I have worked hard. I…”
He draws himself up, takes a deep breath, and his fervent look returns. “I have worked hard. I have worked hard to bring about the revolution! The revolution will welcome me, and will not forget my services. I told the world of the revolution, as Gaetano Bresci did, and though they did not understand, they will soon. I assassinated President McKinley for the cause. I will be welcomed with open arms!”
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"After his small breakdown, this question is quite anticlimactic. “I don’t care. Food is food.”
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'" The man looks pained now. This is reminding him of his trial; all of these questions, all of these bizarre questions he can’t answer, because – and he has wondered if it was the purpose of the questions – he feels so stupid in front of these people who appear to be trying to make him look stupid as it is. So he does now what he did then: he shakes his head, and says “No, sir”.
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'" “No. I have a gun,” he adds helpfully.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'" The man takes a step back in surprise, and looks from mouse to cat back to mouse again in what could be termed dismay, if dismay were a thousand times as intense and mingled with pure, unadulterated terror. “Leon Czolgosz,” he says after a long pause, in a voice that has a noticeable accent.
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles. Ah. Now here’s a question that he’s wanted to answer for the world. Though he cannot, of course, shake off the terrible unease these creatures imbue him with, when he speaks next it is with more firmness.
“My quest is to set the poor man free from the bonds inflicted on him by the rich. My quest is to spread anarchy, because it is only through anarchy that we will be free; to spread the teachings of Miss Emma Goldman; to ensure that the poor man has a voice; to ensure that he may not suffer in silence. For this quest, I killed the President of the United States. For this quest I died, and for this quest I will readily die again,” he adds with vehemence.
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'" “One! I desire for the poor man to be equal to the rich man, which can only gained in anarchy, so I would wish for anarchy. Two, I would wish for tyrants throughout the world to be brought to their justice. As for Three…” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Perhaps Miss Goldman could love me?”
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?" He shrugs again. “I would say no. It is not right for one man to have many wishes when other men have three. It is not fair.”
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'" “Do you not listen? I have brought with me the revolution! I know how to change the world!” Czolgosz hisses. “I help to try to bring the revolution, when those who know what to do are too valuable to sacrifice. And…and yet the people do not follow me. I set them free, and yet they beat me and killed me… No! I must not think like this.” He hides his face in one of his hands for a moment.
When he looks up, he is considerably paler than before, and his face (before burning with passion) is now drawn and looks exhausted. “I have worked in a factory, baking bottles, and doing other such things,” he enunciates tonelessly. “Many years of work. Since I was ten, and I am twenty-eight now. I have worked hard. I…”
He draws himself up, takes a deep breath, and his fervent look returns. “I have worked hard. I have worked hard to bring about the revolution! The revolution will welcome me, and will not forget my services. I told the world of the revolution, as Gaetano Bresci did, and though they did not understand, they will soon. I assassinated President McKinley for the cause. I will be welcomed with open arms!”
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'" The man looks pained now. This is reminding him of his trial; all of these questions, all of these bizarre questions he can’t answer, because – and he has wondered if it was the purpose of the questions – he feels so stupid in front of these people who appear to be trying to make him look stupid as it is. So he does now what he did then: he shakes his head, and says “No, sir”.
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'" “No. I have a gun,” he adds helpfully.
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no subject
Date: 2006-10-29 11:24 pm (UTC)How Katou knows any of that is anyone's guess.
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Date: 2006-10-29 11:45 pm (UTC)"Communism can work, but I don't think it can work as well. Having a government lets the government go on to become powerful and oppress the weak, and we cannot stop the government becoming corrupt. We must eliminate the government to truly be free and equal!"
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Date: 2006-10-29 11:53 pm (UTC)Katou's super secret passion that no one knows about, number one.
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Date: 2006-10-30 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 12:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 02:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 01:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 02:42 am (UTC)Stupid Kira.
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Date: 2006-10-30 12:00 am (UTC)"How can you be here if you're dead? You don't belong here..."
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Date: 2006-10-30 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 12:39 am (UTC)"It's unfortunate you can't go to the appropriate place of rest, that's all."
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Date: 2006-10-30 01:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 02:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 05:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 02:21 pm (UTC)It skims through the air and stops at eye-level, a respectful distance from Leon. "Hello, Mr Czolgosz. My name is Fohristiwhirl Skaffen-Amtiskaw Handrahen Dran Easpyou -- do call me Skaffen-Amtiskaw. How do you do? I find your politics fascinating, sir."
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Date: 2006-11-09 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 03:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-14 10:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-14 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 12:55 am (UTC)One of these days, someone is bound to say yes, he reasons.
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Date: 2006-11-06 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 05:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-10 01:28 pm (UTC)((...and I try, and fail, to come up with an IC response to this question that isn't disturbing on some level. No, Calvin would not actually shoot any of his classmates.))
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Date: 2006-11-14 10:25 pm (UTC)"Describe these people. What are they like?" Czolgosz contemplates offering a less violent method of resistance. Yes, that might be a good idea.
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Date: 2006-11-17 01:08 am (UTC)"And then there's Miss Wormwood...say, I don't suppose you've got some kind high explosives or a rocket launcher I could use to just blow up the school overnight or something?"
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Date: 2006-11-02 06:12 pm (UTC)((No rush on replying if you want to answer the others first. I just didn't want to forget...))
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Date: 2006-11-09 02:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 02:48 am (UTC)"There's Adventureland for tough guys and gals, Tomorrowland for people of the future, Critter Country for critters and the people who love 'em, Toon Town (that's where I live), Fantasyland is a magical place, Main Street for normal folks, New Orleans Square which is a little spooky, and Frontierland for those folks who are on the edge and in between. If you could choose your home, where would you want to be?"
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Date: 2006-11-14 03:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-14 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-12-08 02:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-12 05:33 pm (UTC)