Welcome to the forty thieves {Tuesday}

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

TELL ME I’M A BAD MAN , KICK ME LIKE A STRAY,
tell me I’m an angel, take this to my grave

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The world had literally never seen a better prank than what Tuesday was about to pull, right here, right now. Tuesday had worked it all out in his head: he would find the most spectacularly disgusting perfume combinations ever, mix it together, pour it into Miss. Calahan’s little hand sanitizer bottle that she used every five seconds (seriously, had nobody told her yet that the Black Plague was over? The old hag certainly looked old enough for that to be the case) and watch hilariously disgusting smells ensue. Seriously, she was totally going to regret giving him an F on last week’s test. With all that studying, he’d definitely deserved at least a D-. Come on, Miss. Calahan. Have a heart.

Anyways, so here he was in this like, department store thing where the guy at Burger King had told him perfume was sold, and wow, this was mega-awkward. Tuesday wandered around the racks of clothing and jewelry, feeling more out of place than a polar bear in the desert, except that was a situation that would never happen anywhere ever, whereas he was actually, legitimately, literally here. Wearing his normal like, black ensemble, weaving in and out of stalls where everything seemed to be white.

Seriously, everything was white here. The clothes were white, the racks were white, all the women who milled around seemed to be wearing white, and to have white purses swinging from their arms. Like, jeez louise, was there just some memo he hadn’t gotten?

Anyways, he’d finally found the perfume section, and had absolutely no idea what was going on. Did this many perfumes even exist? He’d assumed there’d be like, three to choose from, but no, this was like a mega-library of perfumes. Feeling like he was drowning in a sea of products, he picked one at random and slipped it into his pocket.

“Vhat arrreh you doeen, dearrr? Peeckeen out somezin zat smells goot forrr special lady?”

Tuesday spun around to see this lady who reminded him of his history teacher; she had that same baleful glare. Shoot, did she like, work for the store or something? Maybe she was like, an employee who was going to bust him for trying to steal this super-expensive thing. Weren’t employees supposed to wear uniforms though? Wasn’t that a thing? Hmm. Okay. Well.

”Oh yeah,” he replied smoothly, winking and twirling the bottle between his fingers. ”My special lady uh, really wants some perfume. Particularly some perfume that uh, smells really bad. She has like a, bad-smelling perfume fetish. Not like, in a creepy way. Just like…” He shrugged. That sentence had gotten away from him. Oh well. ”You wouldn’t know any like, bad smelling perfumes, would you? Just, you know, out of curiosity.”

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TAGZ:[/color] Winter[/size]
WORDZ:[/color]459[/size]
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LYRICZ:[/color] House of Wolves-My Chemical Romance[/size]
CREDITZ:[/color] MONICA made this template DON’T BE STEALIN YA HEAR[/size]