And The Clocks Were Striking Thirteen (_redpanda_) wrote in metaquotes,
And The Clocks Were Striking Thirteen

spinooti: Cannot sleep. Probably something to do with the fact that I drank half a gallon of sweet tea in an attempt to urinate away my anger.

spinooti: The more I think about it, the more I fall in love with the idea of Christopher Columbus's crew landing in Hell. (Yes, I know there are lots of folks in literature who have sailed/sallied forth into hell, but any of them accidentally? That is what's getting me.) (Also, getting to construct my own hell.) Trying to pin down the narrator dude. His voice isn't hard to find: Absolute fear liberally flavored with utter confusion. I am slightly obsessing over thier first night on shore where the majority of them die and becoming the new guardians of the dead, along with all who dared head thataways afore 'em. Mmmm, vikings and australopithecines.

annlarimer: Columbus'll still insist he's in India.

spinooti: Exactly! He is very confused the whole time. The narrator really wants to kill him.
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