Why Elle, it seems your husband is my new inmate! Such a lovely man too, I can see how you two would work well together. Though I hear you two crazy kids are splitting up? Any plans on how you two will be dividing your collective belongings?

I've been pretty laid back while on this penis-sneeze of a cruise, but being the intuitive person I am, I think I'm seeing a change in my future. An angrier, grouchier Spider is no doubt on the horizon. One plagued by this Rick person.

So... just how much power do us wardens wield? Because I've got a mighty need to require dear Rick to write an essay on just what Fascist means. Maybe he'll use the word correctly after a bit of research.

[Spider was thoroughly amused. This was all so primitive, and yet it went above and beyond the Cultural Reservations from his time. Everyone here actually believed he was part of the community. They remembered him and freely spoke to him as if they knew who he was without actually realizing how psychotic he normally behaved.]

A nice change, but I don't think I'd want to live here... now how do I get this ancient piece of junk to turn the fuck on?

[Spider struggles with the old gas-powered mower, fighting with the pull cord to try and get the engine to kick on. He mumbles his usual creative curses under his breath, not wanting to scar any of the locals but still needing to vent his frustrations in his own way. Eventually the mower starts and, whistling a happy triumphant tune, Spider sets about mowing his front lawn.]

[[ooc: yaaay action post! If anyone wants to say hello to their good neighbor Mr. Jerusalem, go right ahead!]]

Mind if I skip the already assumed condolences for those injured in the recent events and the usual required notes on gun-safety? Because I'm going to anyways, seeing as I have no real emotions to back those sort of statements up.

A girl stole a gun and shot people. Oh shock, oh horror, oh tragedy.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong here, but aren't we on some sort of supernatural afterlife prison cruise-liner? As in we've been gifted with an especially exceptional group of criminals chosen specifically from numerous times and places to join us here for reasons only known to the unknown?

And yet we're all shocked when people get shot?

And we're horrified even though everyone lived?

I know I'm still new aboard this floating festival of horrors-past, but I'd still wager my better of the two testicles that there's a lot of inmates on board that have done far worse in their time. I highly doubt a place like this caters to shop-lifters and jay-walkers. So beyond something like this being downright expected to happen at some point, shouldn't we all take a moment to sit back in awe of the fact that there isn't a closet filled with bodies stacked like cord wood involved? That those shot not only recovered, but that they weren't raped with kitchen utensils and their pets weren't deep-fried and eaten in the process?

As for everyone's favorite pass time, the blame game, I'd say that if anyone besides the gun-toting inmate-of-the-day should be hearing anything about this, it would be our dear Admiral. Because honestly, how safe is it to collect so many dangerous criminals in one place?

And how naive is it to expect them all to play nice. Gun or no gun.

I know I wouldn't blame Hitler's warden if the dead rascal was onboard and managed to sneak away in the middle of the night to whip up a baked potato in an oven fueled by any Jews, Gypsies and homosexuals he could get his hands on. The most violent tendencies of people are the hardest to control, and if we wardens could control everything our inmates did then there wouldn't be much need for this little eternal journey of redemption here, would there?

For the record, I've shot people before. I don't usually enjoy shooting people with guns that use bullets, but I enjoyed shooting these people. And they didn't live. Yet somehow... I'm a warden here. So maybe, just maybe, the message here is that bullet wounds happen, and life (or unlife) still carries on. The problem here isn't guns, it's motives. The real weapon here was this Elle girl and so anyone who cares to do something about it should turn their sights to actually convincing her she's done bad. If insults and judgments changed anything, I'd have been seen as the second coming of fucking Christ when I was alive.

All this talk about "floods" and enforced honesty intrigues me. I can only guess I remain unaffected due to the fact that I'm honest 99.9% of the time. Most people tend to forget this as I like to dress my truth up in hideous metaphors and accessorize it with as much swearing and unique insults as I can manage. You catheter-sucking cockblisters.

The Truth is a good thing, not matter what. I don't give a fuck if it's occasionally painful. Pain reminds you that you're still alive and that you've either fucked up or you're getting fucked. It tells you that you should change something to make your life better. Delusions and lies don't fix one single thing, they just convince you to stick with it longer. It's like imagining yourself in a field of butterflies and balloons while you're getting anally assaulted with a hypersonic eggbeater.

So, would I be a cruel bastard if I took advantage of this honesty thing and proposed a question to all aboard? Or would I be a cruel bastard because Momma just raised me that way?

Question: What's one thing you can do that would lead to a real improvement in your life? Something that would not be sacrificing your principles or preferences.

The fucking injustice of this smacks of something only one of those damn made-up gods of the Religious Insane would do. I'm told I was chosen for this because supposedly I'm some kind of righteous, noble, angel-fucking bleeding heart that would serve as an example to the more sinful sinners on this happy-fun cruise of what a "good" person is like. Whoever's god this is, you should really step forward to claim Him/Her/It and teach it to be more observant. My festering asshole am I anyone's beacon of morality.

This must not be one of those charitable, giving gods either. Otherwise this supposed higher power would have forced my filthy assistants to join me. At least I know this isn't hell. I still have my cigarettes.

User Name/Nick: Bright
User LJ: black_n_bright
AIM/IM: summoner andrew
E-mail: rp_artist@yahoo.com
Other Characters: Andrew Wells, L, and Jack Sparrow

( Along came a Spider )