[THIS IS ALREADY THE WORST BIRTHDAY EVER AND IT'S NOT EVEN SOMETHING DAVE WOULD DEFINE AS 'MORNING' YET.
He pulls his pillow over his head. When that doesn't work, he just yells. Continuously. When it becomes very apparent that yelling isn't exactly conducive to falling asleep, he bursts from beneath the covers and yanks out the cord connecting Jane's laptop to the speakers.
And he stands there, cord in his hands the trophy of his kill. Eyes wild behind his shades, but they're in place now so Jane doesn't see it anyway.]
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He pulls his pillow over his head. When that doesn't work, he just yells. Continuously. When it becomes very apparent that yelling isn't exactly conducive to falling asleep, he bursts from beneath the covers and yanks out the cord connecting Jane's laptop to the speakers.
And he stands there, cord in his hands the trophy of his kill. Eyes wild behind his shades, but they're in place now so Jane doesn't see it anyway.]
What do you want from me.