Spongebob Is Not An Anime [phonecall, azazel]

[words: 475][tagged: ZOEY LOYOLA]

After dirtying- I mean, ahem, cleaning his room up a little, Azazel took a step back from his work. His blankets were in a bundled array on the floor, now, with pillows stacked sloppily in his corner. The stack slumped to one side, some of the pillows not even on the initial stack. His ‘neat’ pile of sheets lay on the bed, slumping to the ground and ready to be slipped on. His bundle of alcoholic beverages, some emptied and scattered out of place, were shoved to one side of the room, near the trashcan. Azazel figured he’d need to be near it at all times, just in case, so this was perfect planning. A pillow and blanket were tucked into that area of the room, as well. His nest, if you would. Azazel had scooted his phone and laptop over to said-side.

In short, his room looked more like shit than before.

Not noticing the unfamiliar cursing over the phone, Azazel responded with a nonchalant ‘mhm’ and gathered up the sheets and blankets. Figuring he was indeed waaaaay too drunk to be attempting this, he planned on dropping off all the mess her made outside Faith’s door. She can figure it out for him. On the way he stumbled and crashed into the wall multiple times. Collided with the floor even. But, eventually, his task was completed, and he tripped his way back to his room.

Shuffling in as her last comment made it’s remark through the phone, Azazel responded with a small raspberry and a scrunched up face. He would never be fond of Charlotte. Not ever. Drunk, drugged up, or sober. Regrettably, he had started pestering her off and on as he, ahem, ‘cleaned’ his room. He planned on starting with her considerably soon. Picking up his phone, Azazel brought it to his ear- despite the fact it was on speaker. Sounding probably a bit too loud on the other end, the currently far-from-sober Azazel stammered boldly, “Seh’s be’n’a bihtch.”

Plopping down in his nest, grabbing a not-so-cold one, Azazel tossed his phone on his pillow and settled down back into the internet. Number whatever is starting. Number whatever is a go. Putting the bottle down, leaning his head against the wall, the platinum blonde takked away at his laptop. Tak tak tak.

“H’y, ‘ey. Zoe. Stoh. Zroey. Zoey. D’ dr’nk pe’ple… d’ br’t’sh pe’ple h’ve p’zza? Pizz’. Thuh do’ghy circl’s wi’ sa’ce ‘n’… ‘n’ chee’e. ‘n’. ‘n’ pepp’ron’s. ‘ronis. Do’ya h’ve pizzah? Do’ya?” Finding out Canadian’s have pizza was a huge break through. He had to know if everyone had access to pizza. Maybe Zoey would actually call him one. Or tell Faith to call him one.

“’f yuh ‘av’em, can yuh or’er me a p’zza? Or tell Fa’th tuh? F… Faith. E’en if yuh don’, can yuh or’er me on’.”