02-19-2020, 03:37 PM
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More slunk forth at his comedic routine. The poltergeist gulped at the sight, figuring his task wouldn't have included an audience larger than a couple of creatures. A whine threatened to escape his pressed lips, the wary noise swelling in his throat as an unfamiliar face drew closer. Vathmos and Kiira, too -- he returned her shy smile, appreciative of the veteran swamp dweller's presence before Aurum's demand spooked him out of his deathly pale skin. Jokes, they wanted more jokes. Claws sunk into the mud, poking through wilted leaves and catching on trampled grass.
"Uh..." he stammered, blinking dumbly. C'mon, think! The dark fur along a slouching spine stood trembling with blitz of static and he drummed his front paws, seeking a subconscious rhythm to cling to. "Um.. oh, what happens when chickens get hit while crossing the road? They become... poultry-geists!" Too similar to his first pun; he wheezed slightly, surveying the varied reactions.
Another hiccup of forced laughter, then his wavering voice tumbled from his mouth once more. "That one's not that good. Um, why should you invite a ghost over when you're sad? 'Cause they'll lift your spirits." Less enthusiasm arrived with the punchline, his words plainly stated as he struggled for more content. His claws dug deeper into the mud, squelching with the added pressure.
"Okay, last two. Where do ghosts learn to become pilots?" He paused for a rasped breath, undersized chest inflating. "At fright school! And..." His half-disfigured snout stretched wide into a forced grin equal to that of uneven Glasgow slits and his final joke was released with a bout of unhinged giggling. "Why can't ghosts ever get a tan? 'Cause they're always wearing sun-scream!"
His shoulders sagged with relief, his social torment finally over. His notched ear twitched and he looked up to the gathered crowd, sheepishly wheezing, "That's... all I got. Sorry." With that, he staggered to stand, stubby tail tucked as he slipped through their larger, warmer bodies and darting out of sight.
"Uh..." he stammered, blinking dumbly. C'mon, think! The dark fur along a slouching spine stood trembling with blitz of static and he drummed his front paws, seeking a subconscious rhythm to cling to. "Um.. oh, what happens when chickens get hit while crossing the road? They become... poultry-geists!" Too similar to his first pun; he wheezed slightly, surveying the varied reactions.
Another hiccup of forced laughter, then his wavering voice tumbled from his mouth once more. "That one's not that good. Um, why should you invite a ghost over when you're sad? 'Cause they'll lift your spirits." Less enthusiasm arrived with the punchline, his words plainly stated as he struggled for more content. His claws dug deeper into the mud, squelching with the added pressure.
"Okay, last two. Where do ghosts learn to become pilots?" He paused for a rasped breath, undersized chest inflating. "At fright school! And..." His half-disfigured snout stretched wide into a forced grin equal to that of uneven Glasgow slits and his final joke was released with a bout of unhinged giggling. "Why can't ghosts ever get a tan? 'Cause they're always wearing sun-scream!"
His shoulders sagged with relief, his social torment finally over. His notched ear twitched and he looked up to the gathered crowd, sheepishly wheezing, "That's... all I got. Sorry." With that, he staggered to stand, stubby tail tucked as he slipped through their larger, warmer bodies and darting out of sight.