Gah!

[xp_daytripper]

Where the hell is that noise coming from? It sounds like whiny emo rock... wait, it is whiny emo rock. Who the hell put this little iPod thing in my desk? And more importantly, how do I turn it off?

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[xp_daytripper]

They're everywhere. Pete's been hotknifing them, but they're like tribbles or something, with the whole multiplying thing. There was one in my desk drawer, under the emergency granola bars, one in my rubbish bin, under the lining, and there's still one I can't find...

Mark is a dead man.

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

I think Mark is not the only person who is going to be made dead. This feels familiar to me. It has the tones of an old, practiced hand at pranking.

I just found one in my spare boots. In. My. Boots.

I learned that if I have one of my images 'eat' the little machine that it stops playing. And then I can have it .. eliminate the machine onto Mark's desk. He should be getting an ectoplasm covered present any moment now.

[xp_daytripper]

Marry me. Seriously, screw the part where you're straight, you are the perfect woman and I want to worship at your feet. *grins*

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

You can buy me a coffee? It will hopefully get us away from this... music.

Unless there are players in our coats. I should go check.

[xp_daytripper]

Coffee and pastry. You deserve it for the shriek I just heard.

And now's the time I'm wishing for some kind of offensive spell that I could use to blow these things up. Pete and Remy get all the fun. *pouts*