Post by RHYS SPRINTER on Jul 28, 2013 19:52:59 GMT -5
...Rhys Jamison Sprinter*
*Run, run run, as fast as you can...*
[/size]*Run, run run, as fast as you can...*
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*THESE PICTURES MUST FIT SIDE BY SIDE
...basics*
name Rhyss Jamal Sprinter
nicknameRy-Ry, like ree-ree, but no one's called him that since his dad passed
age 23
gender male
grade out of school
hometown Kissimmee, Florida
sexuality up in the air, he doesn't know
personification The Gingerbread Man
...appearance*
hair color chocolate fudge and caramel
eye color ice blue rock candy
build like delicious poufed frosting
height 6"4
clothing style nothin' fancy
distinctive traits does being adorable count?
...personal*
personality uhm, this is kind of weird...i don't know who you are...or what you are, to be honest. Are you sure you wouldn't rather talk to jake? No? You sure? well, alright then.[/b]
i think i'm pretty average. jake thinks i'm kind of irresponsible but really, am i supposed to magically know that i should tell people where i'm going when i'm not in the office? he always seems to know where i am anyway, right? plus sometimes i just got to get out and do stuff, fun stuff, not boring paperwork things. if i'd known making my dad's company this big would have given me this much work i'd and hired someone else to do it.
which jake is, i suppose. he's my uncle, my mom's brother, and he's been keeping me on track since my dad died. he's an old fart, but he's a nice old fart, so i listen to him, sometimes.
i prank people. mostly they’re quick one off pranks i come up with on the spot, but occasionally i plan something really big for a bunch of people, like my assistant and the top office staff. i don't prank jake all the time, but when i do, it's awesome! invariably he yells at me to keep my 'childishness' out of the office, but i'm the boss; he can't make me do anything i don't want to. mostly.
i don’t exactly prank the other employees, even though i spend a lot of time in the stores. if i’m gonna prank them i like, drop an extra cupcake on a tray or something, or make wacky flavors for customers like ‘ha you think that yellow is pineapple flavored lol naw its blueberry YOU’VE BEEN RHYSYED’ kinda like Punk!D but cooler cuz it’s food.
jake's got me on an allowance now, since i 'lack the maturity needed to successfully handle large sums of money like the adult you are'. his words, not mine. on one hand, i can agree with him; i go through money like a hot knife through butter, but i don't spend alot, not really. i don't like to see people sad or bored or hungry or confused or anything other than bubbly and smiling, so when i find people who aren't bubbly and smiling i tend to throw money at them till they are. really, its not smart, but its my one weakness.
well, that and being told 'no'. and demanding i do something i was already set to do anyway. i'm as stubborn as an ox and i know it. tell me to do something i was going to do anyway is the surest way to get me to say 'fuck it' and ensure that i never do it in this lifetime or the next. jake hasn't learned that yet.
and i’m pretty dumb and irresponsible but let me hear someone talking shit about my dad’s life dream and i will cut you. gingey’s is the one thing i’ve ever seen make my dad smile and i’ll be damned before i let anyone screw it up. im a bit of a control freak when it comes to details of the business. like, everything running smoothly and deadlines are months away, fine, i can slack off but SOMEONE’S FUCKED UP SOMETHING Or a big business deal is coming up or something and I’m all over that shit. all. over. it.
plus i get mad competitive. like, i sneak into other coffee/sweet selling shops and see how they do what they do and why ppl like them and make sure i take a shit ton of notes and get back to my place and plot and plan to be better then everyone omg do not get me started on this i plot for days when i hear a new shop is opening anywhere near my stores jack hates it because i go berserk and randomly hop on a plane and spend a week incognito in these people’s stores before coming back with all the plots its ugly okay i know it it’s my one true weakness and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t let me know there’s a new shop opening anywhere, ever.
past so, i grew up in kissimmee, florida. it was pretty rad, i guess, if hot as all hell all the time, even in winter which is just dumb, to be honest. dad had a bakery for as long as i knew him, and i grew up helping him out around the place. it was fairly busy, we had help on and off and a lot of times we needed it, especially when dad added sweets to his menu, rock candy muffins and peppermint crumble brownies, stuff like that, word got out and all of a sudden the steady, reliable business turned into a frickin’ mcdonalds of baked goods. it was great, honest.
we lived in the apartment above the bakery. like i said, it was a small thing at first. jake didn’t live with us, but he was always there. i mean always. i think he slept in his car most nights because i swear i never saw the man leave. i don’t know what happened to my mom; dad never talked about her and my uncle jake only ever said that she was somewhere. i took that to mean she abandoned us and wasn’t worth the time i took to think about her so i stopped thinking about her early on. it was easy since she wasn’t there.
i broke my foot when i was around seven. sliding down the stairs one night when jake had thrown my dad out of the house because he was always working. jake was miserable about it for weeks until i pranked him out of it. sometimes during those two weeks my dad managed to channel all my frenetic energy and got me to bake something. gingerbread munchkins were my first ever thing. completely frosted over and covered in chocolate, then sprinkled with powdered sugar. everyone swore they were the best things since sliced bread but duh, i made them. my dad was only the best baker ever in existence, of course i’d be as good as him in baking. dad thought it was great though. his is the only praise i really paid attention to.
from my bedroom i could see all the super tall shiny buildings in the city, and i’d always known i’d wanted one. didn’t know how i was gonna get one, but that was a minor detail.
i didn’t like school. they expected you to sit still for hours on end and memorize stuff and gave you too few, too short breaks. i hated it. i did alright grade-wise though, so my dad couldn’t coplain. jake did though. i swear he complained for every report card that i could do better. and it was true, but i didn’t want to. i already knew that i was going to make my dad rich and we’d own a skyscraper in new york and never ever work hard and buy jake a wife or something. i knew it; i didn’t need school.
and then my dad died. i’d just turned 18. jake was hysterical. one minute he was crying the next he was furious the next it looked like his whole world had caved in. in the middle of my not-caring-about-anyone-including-myself all-encompassing sadness i had to wonder if he was really my uncle and not my dad’s…thing. not that it mattered, just that it’s be really dumb for them to have not told me. the dummies.
for about a year after dad died i kind of fell off the map. i wasted a good chunk of money. i drank and smoked and drank some more and got lost in the clubs. people thought it was great, the workaholic son finally breaking loose, but they didn’t get it. i wasn’t breaking loose, i was trying to break myself. or something. i’m still not clear on it. but on the anniversary of dad’s death i saw this gingerbread man talking to me in the kitchen and i just assumed i was on some weird shit so i went out and got super freaking drunk, like, i drank things i didn’t even know the names of, some of them were smoking which i’m sure is really bad, but anyway i got so wasted i passed out in a cab and the cabbie threw me out and long story short jake found me a little after sunrise and i had to get my stomach pumped and i was stuck in the hospital for two weeks. haven’t touched a drink since. jake’d skin me if i did, anyway.
but after that i got clean, got my head back on straight, and started gingey’s back up. when i found out jake had shut it down i was beyond furious. i locked him out of the place for three weeks while i kind of went berserk and baked and called folks and emailed and just about everything. things got back up and running pretty quickly. i still had all dad’s recipes and I knew all the suppliers and whatnot, so i did that. I got jake to handle the financial stuff, call in some investing consultants, and I sat in on the meetings and told them how idiotic they were. Jake started thinking and I started thinking and we put our heads together and soon we had a new location, right in downtown, miami. I spent another month with a coffee cup glued to my mouth and then boom, one in georgia. Soon there was one in allendale, new jersey, then another in avon. i laughed more, pranked jake more, hired more people, made the company limited, and generally lived. a year after that, I was sitting on an empire.
present now i live in new york, at the top of my very own tall, shiny building. gingey’s, now consisting of about three hundred store fronts and twelve production factories, is doing pretty well, if i say so myself. i’m pretty shrewd when it comes to business, and i doesn't think its bragging to say so; I did build a multi-million dollar empire in under five years.
i spend my free time, the little that i have, baking. its how i stay connected to the original mr. sprinter. Nothing i make goes to waste, either; either I eat it all or contribute it to the small catering service gingey's provides.
family eric jamison sprinter, dad
jake edward abel, uncle
likes
sugar
winning
skirts
frosting
icing
gingerbread
old retro appliances
dislikes
idiots
rules (outside of sports)
answering machines
someone messing up his food
problems at any of his bakeries
stripes
bigotry
other notesplease don’t hurt me. yeah I’ve gotten stupid wasted but that doesn’t mean i’ve had any real life experiences. [/blockquote]
...literature*
book title the gingerbread man
backstory In the 1875 St. Nicholas tale, a childless old woman bakes a gingerbread boy who leaps from her oven and runs away. The woman and her husband give chase but fail to catch him. The gingerbread boy then outruns several farm workers and farm animals while taunting them with the phrase:
I've run away from a little old woman,
A little old man,
And I can run away from you, I can!
The tale ends with a fox catching and eating the gingerbread boy who cries as he's devoured, "I'm quarter gone...I'm half gone...I'm three-quarters gone...I'm all gone!" - a detail often omitted in subsequent versions.[1]
In some retellings, The Gingerbread Boy taunts his pursuers with:
Run, run as fast as you can;
You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man.[1]
Thank you, Wikipedia!
...roleplayer*
name Trey
ageI'm ancient!
gender she
rp experience Almost six years
how you found ouacI used to own it's mommy
rp sample Rhys laughed a tired, exasperated laugh when Adeen lifted off the bed. "Like what you see, do you?" He stretched lazily, putting his hands behind his head and gave her a smug look. "You should come back down. The views much better down here."
And then the evil little rat tried to run away. "Hey!" he hopped off the bed, lack of clothing totally forgotten. "Bring my sheet back here!" He laughed at her tease, ignoring the strange, tingling itch that sprung to life across his skin, the sound of high-pitched laughter in his head. "What do I look like?" he asked. "The gingerbread man?"
And just like that the world of his bedroom faded away. He blinked, and he was in a field, green grass stretching out as far as the eye could see, a few large trees dotting the landscape here and there. Rhys gazed around him in wonder, quickly coming to the conclusion that something about this place, and his sudden disappearance from his place, was wrong.
He spun, and came upon the strangest sight. There, beneath a particularly large tree lay a gingerbread man, one leg crossed over the other and blowing bubbles from a bottle beside him. Even stranger, the edible person was singing.
"On the good ship lollipop.
Its a sweet trip to a candy shop
Where bon-bons play
On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay.
Lemonade stands everywhere.
Crackerjack bands fill the air.
And there you are
Happy landing on a chocolate bar.
See the sugar bowl do the tootsie roll
With the big bad devils food cake.
If you eat too much ooh ooh
You'll awake with a tummy ache.
On the good ship lollipop
Its a night trip into bed you hop
And dream away
On the good ship lollipop."
Rhys blinked. The gingerbreadman turned to look at him, and then screamed, covering his eyes.
"Aaaaahhh! What's the matter with you? Put some clothes on!"
Rhys oggled, unable to believe what he was seeing. "Are you serious?"
" Of course I'm serious!" the little man said, fingerless hands still over his eyes. "You think someone wants to see your....dangly bits!"
"Look, you're the one who interrupted me." Indignant though he was, Rhys still covered his bits out of modesty. This strange little man might be in his head, but that didn't mean he had to show him everything.
Gingey, the name that popped into his head appropriately enough, peeked out at him, then beamed. "That's better. Aren't you a good looking fella!" Rhys frowned, looking uncomfortable. "My human form is hot!"
"Erm... this is wierd."
"You're telling me?" Gingey stalked forward, poking Rhys in the chest with a round hand-thing. "I had to sit in your head and watch you make a mess of your life! Working? Seriously! Avoiding the nightclubs? Are you sure you're not really gay?"
"Look! if you're going to insult me, then just let me go back to my girlfriend, alright?"
"Oh no! You have to sit here and listen to me rant. I've had to keep it all bottled up for so long because you couldn't hear me, but I've got you now! You're going to listen if it's the last. Thing. You. Do!"
The last few words were punctuated with pokes to the chest, and Rhys growled. he grabbed the surprisingly tall now talking cookie by the head, ignoring it's screams of "Spunky hands! Spunky hands!" as he gave the head a god, hard shake.
There was a second of twisted garbled noises before his knees his soft carpeting and the field around him faded into the blacks, whites and brown of his bedroom. He panted as if he'd been running a long distance, arm stretching out to steady himself on anything that would make the room stop spinning. His fingers connected with something firm and he held on, dropping his head and groaning.
"Gingey. Damn."
