Death Goals
Dec. 25th, 2011 05:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackofknavesTitle: Death Goals
Author:jackofknaves
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen
Summary: The ongoing tales of a zombie fighter and her hapless sidekick.
"If you could do anything, what would you do?" he asked one day while staring out the window. She flicked a look at him that lasted ten seconds more than he was strictly comfortable with--she did it on purpose, laughing every time he squirmed and kept shooting anxious glances at the road--then replied in a bland tone,
"This."
"This? This is it. If you could do anything."
"Sure." She considered. "I'd also build a shotgun with limitless ammunition."
"My God."
"Why, what would you do?"
He shrugged and waved a hand in the air in some vague gesture that might have implied he was either unsure or very, very gay. "I don't know. Hike the Appalachian trail. Go backpacking in Europe. Something like that."
"How very Gilmore Girls of you."
His eyes flickered, and a muscle twitched on the side of his mouth. "You watch Gilmore Girls?"
"Yes," she said, sinking into her seat a little. "What of it?"
"Nothing. Which do you prefer, Rory or Lorelai?"
"Luke."
"Figures. Well, what's wrong with wanting to do those things, anyhow?"
"They're cliche. Everyone wants to do those things. It's like asking someone if they had three wishes, and they all say they want money, power, and world peace. Absolutely silly."
"You're a cynic," he said accusingly.
Without a second's hesitation she responded, "Guilty."
"Cynicism isn't normally a revered trait, you know. Why is it bad that people want those things?"
"We get really caught up in wanting to do the right thing while we all do the wrong thing. Or people make long lists of what they want to do before they die, then never do them. Or they do them when they're fifty, and have this urge to fill their life with meaning long after the thrill of life is gone."
"John Cougar."
"You're learning. Still true. I just think people might be happier spending more time thinking about what they are doing instead of what they should have done."
"Poetic. So, life is what you make of it? You don't think planned spontaneity is worthy of becoming a meaningful life?"
"Strictly speaking, no."
"I'm taking away your Nietzsche."
She rolled her eyes. "Thoreau, actually, would be more accurate. And over my dead body."
"Right."
"No, seriously. There's a curse on my Thoreau book. If anyone but me touches it, when I die, I'll come back and haunt them," she said with complete seriousness, lifting a hand to touch the rosary hanging from her rearview mirror.
"That's... comforting."
"It really shouldn't be."
He sighed. "You're right. It's not."
Author:
jackofknavesRating: PG
Pairing: Gen
Summary: The ongoing tales of a zombie fighter and her hapless sidekick.
"If you could do anything, what would you do?" he asked one day while staring out the window. She flicked a look at him that lasted ten seconds more than he was strictly comfortable with--she did it on purpose, laughing every time he squirmed and kept shooting anxious glances at the road--then replied in a bland tone,
"This."
"This? This is it. If you could do anything."
"Sure." She considered. "I'd also build a shotgun with limitless ammunition."
"My God."
"Why, what would you do?"
He shrugged and waved a hand in the air in some vague gesture that might have implied he was either unsure or very, very gay. "I don't know. Hike the Appalachian trail. Go backpacking in Europe. Something like that."
"How very Gilmore Girls of you."
His eyes flickered, and a muscle twitched on the side of his mouth. "You watch Gilmore Girls?"
"Yes," she said, sinking into her seat a little. "What of it?"
"Nothing. Which do you prefer, Rory or Lorelai?"
"Luke."
"Figures. Well, what's wrong with wanting to do those things, anyhow?"
"They're cliche. Everyone wants to do those things. It's like asking someone if they had three wishes, and they all say they want money, power, and world peace. Absolutely silly."
"You're a cynic," he said accusingly.
Without a second's hesitation she responded, "Guilty."
"Cynicism isn't normally a revered trait, you know. Why is it bad that people want those things?"
"We get really caught up in wanting to do the right thing while we all do the wrong thing. Or people make long lists of what they want to do before they die, then never do them. Or they do them when they're fifty, and have this urge to fill their life with meaning long after the thrill of life is gone."
"John Cougar."
"You're learning. Still true. I just think people might be happier spending more time thinking about what they are doing instead of what they should have done."
"Poetic. So, life is what you make of it? You don't think planned spontaneity is worthy of becoming a meaningful life?"
"Strictly speaking, no."
"I'm taking away your Nietzsche."
She rolled her eyes. "Thoreau, actually, would be more accurate. And over my dead body."
"Right."
"No, seriously. There's a curse on my Thoreau book. If anyone but me touches it, when I die, I'll come back and haunt them," she said with complete seriousness, lifting a hand to touch the rosary hanging from her rearview mirror.
"That's... comforting."
"It really shouldn't be."
He sighed. "You're right. It's not."
