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Title: Trials and Tribulations of the Coffinman
Fandom: Baroque.
Warnings: Some adult concepts, a bitter/dark sense of humor, heavy language. Spoilers for certain parts of the game.
Summary: The everyday life of the coffinman. Three short drabbles.
[For those of you who don’t know, the Coffinman is the guy in my default pic.]
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the concept.
And so, Chaos churns out yet another drabble series that will probably never be finished, and will probably amuse only her. The overuse of goddamn is purposeful, as that is the coffinman’s way of speaking.
Written between days December ’08.
Prompt: Horny Flamingo, Angry Llama, courtesy of Faladyne.
“Get your goddamn asses back here you goddamned freaks, goddamit.” The coffinman yelled, chasing a flamingo who was chasing a Llama through the goddamned outer world. The Llama was so goddamned angry about being locked in the same goddamn cage as that goddamn horny flamingo who kept trying to violate him. The goddamn Flamingo had somehow fell head over goddamn heels for the goddamn Llama. The poor coffinman was simply trying to get them back in their goddamn cage so he could put them in his goddamn dungeon where they damn well belonged, goddamnit.
Of course, this goddamn chase could only end in one goddamn thing, the death of the hero. Before the poor clone could barely do anything, he had barely taken one step out the door of the laboratory when he was violently trampled by the Llama, pooped on by the Flamingo and then run over by the goddamn coffinman.
Prompt: Potato, also courtesy of Faladyne.
The coffinman stared at the neatly planted rows of goddamn plants growing in the floor of his goddamn dungeon. Apparently some dumbass, he could only think of one if he discounted those goddamn clones, had decided that the first goddamn floor of his goddamn dungeon would be the best place to grow goddamn potatoes. Goddammit, he was going to wring that fucking moron’s goddamn neck.
“Longneck! You goddamn idiot, I’d live to have a goddamn word with you, goddammit.”
Prompt: Piece of Lint that nobody wants, courtesy of Faladyne.
The coffinman looked down and scratched his goddamn head, staring at a piece of goddamn dryer lint lying in the goddamn dirt in front of the entrance to his goddamn dungeon. It was making him look bad, goddammit. He glanced about, just knowing that that goddamn idiot, Longneck was behind this.
He swore that someday he was going to wring that goddamn moron’s neck so he would no longer plaque the rest of his goddamn existence. It would be a goddamn favor to the rest of the world, or what was left of it goddammit.
Hardly anyone in Baroque has an actual name, just a description of what they are, Hero, Horned Girl, Archangel, the bagged one, mindreader, the only people I can think of with actual names are Eliza, Alice and the rest of the order of Malkuth.
Fandom: Baroque.
Warnings: Some adult concepts, a bitter/dark sense of humor, heavy language. Spoilers for certain parts of the game.
Summary: The everyday life of the coffinman. Three short drabbles.
[For those of you who don’t know, the Coffinman is the guy in my default pic.]
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the concept.
And so, Chaos churns out yet another drabble series that will probably never be finished, and will probably amuse only her. The overuse of goddamn is purposeful, as that is the coffinman’s way of speaking.
Written between days December ’08.
Prompt: Horny Flamingo, Angry Llama, courtesy of Faladyne.
“Get your goddamn asses back here you goddamned freaks, goddamit.” The coffinman yelled, chasing a flamingo who was chasing a Llama through the goddamned outer world. The Llama was so goddamned angry about being locked in the same goddamn cage as that goddamn horny flamingo who kept trying to violate him. The goddamn Flamingo had somehow fell head over goddamn heels for the goddamn Llama. The poor coffinman was simply trying to get them back in their goddamn cage so he could put them in his goddamn dungeon where they damn well belonged, goddamnit.
Of course, this goddamn chase could only end in one goddamn thing, the death of the hero. Before the poor clone could barely do anything, he had barely taken one step out the door of the laboratory when he was violently trampled by the Llama, pooped on by the Flamingo and then run over by the goddamn coffinman.
Prompt: Potato, also courtesy of Faladyne.
The coffinman stared at the neatly planted rows of goddamn plants growing in the floor of his goddamn dungeon. Apparently some dumbass, he could only think of one if he discounted those goddamn clones, had decided that the first goddamn floor of his goddamn dungeon would be the best place to grow goddamn potatoes. Goddammit, he was going to wring that fucking moron’s goddamn neck.
“Longneck! You goddamn idiot, I’d live to have a goddamn word with you, goddammit.”
Prompt: Piece of Lint that nobody wants, courtesy of Faladyne.
The coffinman looked down and scratched his goddamn head, staring at a piece of goddamn dryer lint lying in the goddamn dirt in front of the entrance to his goddamn dungeon. It was making him look bad, goddammit. He glanced about, just knowing that that goddamn idiot, Longneck was behind this.
He swore that someday he was going to wring that goddamn moron’s neck so he would no longer plaque the rest of his goddamn existence. It would be a goddamn favor to the rest of the world, or what was left of it goddammit.
Hardly anyone in Baroque has an actual name, just a description of what they are, Hero, Horned Girl, Archangel, the bagged one, mindreader, the only people I can think of with actual names are Eliza, Alice and the rest of the order of Malkuth.
