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SPN: Wherefore the Elephant Toaster?
Another one from the Casparty. (I miss you so much, Casparty ;___;)
I left the prompt "Team Free Will gets cursed to speak in iambic pentameter." One thing led to another, and suddenly I found myself writing "Team Free Will gets cursed to speak in dadaist poetry." Joke's on me, I guess.
Wherefore the Elephant Toaster?
Supernatural. Sam, Dean, Cas. Rated H for fruit bowl. 233 words.
Team Free Will gets cursed to speak in dadaist poetry. ETA: Now available as podfic, thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elsewhere_kels!
Dean drives them up the I-95, and the only sound in the car is Axl Rose wailing about November rain. Axl Rose has been wailing nonstop for an hour now to a rapt audience of tight-lipped Winchesters plus one, and Sam isn't really surprised that Dean doesn't switch the cassette to the other side when this side ends.
The silence stretches on for another a minute.
Sam sighs. Fuck it. A curse is a curse is a curse, but they can't let themselves be beat. Someone has to try. He says, "A grapefruit million chokes--"
"Wattle thesis!" Dean snaps. "Jersey cake my fallopian, the chimney boobie fruit--" He cuts himself off, glaring straight ahead, and Sam watches his jaw clench and unclench.
Sam insists, "Doesn't supine wildebeest--"
"Toothpaste," Dean growls.
"Her similar cake--"
"Toothpaste, softly!"
"But noodles--"
"Toothpaste!" Dean yells, red-faced. "Shoelace the detective, toothpaste!"
Sam raises his eyebrows. "Toothpaste?" he repeats.
"Toothpaste," Dean confirms.
Sam rolls his eyes. His brother can be so stubborn sometimes.
Sam turns his head, looking at Castiel in the backseat. The angel has taken to riding around with them ever since this series of curses started, increasingly worried for the Winchesters's well-being. Not that it has done wonders for Cas's well-being.
"Tiddlywink yokel chorus?" Sam asks.
"A styrofoam hat," Cas replies grimly. "The underwater meerkat ringing."
"Xylophones," Dean mutters under his breath.
I left the prompt "Team Free Will gets cursed to speak in iambic pentameter." One thing led to another, and suddenly I found myself writing "Team Free Will gets cursed to speak in dadaist poetry." Joke's on me, I guess.
Wherefore the Elephant Toaster?
Supernatural. Sam, Dean, Cas. Rated H for fruit bowl. 233 words.
Team Free Will gets cursed to speak in dadaist poetry. ETA: Now available as podfic, thanks to
elsewhere_kels!Dean drives them up the I-95, and the only sound in the car is Axl Rose wailing about November rain. Axl Rose has been wailing nonstop for an hour now to a rapt audience of tight-lipped Winchesters plus one, and Sam isn't really surprised that Dean doesn't switch the cassette to the other side when this side ends.
The silence stretches on for another a minute.
Sam sighs. Fuck it. A curse is a curse is a curse, but they can't let themselves be beat. Someone has to try. He says, "A grapefruit million chokes--"
"Wattle thesis!" Dean snaps. "Jersey cake my fallopian, the chimney boobie fruit--" He cuts himself off, glaring straight ahead, and Sam watches his jaw clench and unclench.
Sam insists, "Doesn't supine wildebeest--"
"Toothpaste," Dean growls.
"Her similar cake--"
"Toothpaste, softly!"
"But noodles--"
"Toothpaste!" Dean yells, red-faced. "Shoelace the detective, toothpaste!"
Sam raises his eyebrows. "Toothpaste?" he repeats.
"Toothpaste," Dean confirms.
Sam rolls his eyes. His brother can be so stubborn sometimes.
Sam turns his head, looking at Castiel in the backseat. The angel has taken to riding around with them ever since this series of curses started, increasingly worried for the Winchesters's well-being. Not that it has done wonders for Cas's well-being.
"Tiddlywink yokel chorus?" Sam asks.
"A styrofoam hat," Cas replies grimly. "The underwater meerkat ringing."
"Xylophones," Dean mutters under his breath.