doofenstrudel: (Bwahaha!)
[Action A - Friday the 19th - 457 Stone Street, morning]

[Doofenshmirtz bolts out of bed with such force that the blankets are thrown to the side of the room. Gasping, flailing, he pats himself down to assure himself that he's fine. Head, shoulders, knees, toes, guts, all of them are actually in place... but he's not quite ready to be relieved yet.]

...I'm alive.

[Still in his pyjamas, staring blankly ahead and trying to process the previous day's trauma, he makes his way down into the kitchen. He's hungry. He's thirsty. Unfortunately, someone had apparently already brought the milk in, setting it on the kitchen counter. Convenient! In his semi-drowsy post-ressurection daze, he pours himself a big glass and downs it.]

I'm alive. Alive! ALIVE, I TELL YOU! Ahahahahah!

[Looks like the guy got the hormone free milk.]

[Action B - Same Day - 457 Stone Street, outside, day]

[The garage at 457 Stone Street is wide-open, and there's a horrible ruckus coming from inside it. Objects are being tossed out into the driveway with gusto, and then are retrieved minutes later by a dirty, raving Doofenshmirtz. Sometimes there is hammering. Sometimes the crackle of welding. Occasionally, there's the KER-ZAP of electricity.]

Come on! DO SOMETHING! Arc! Spin up! Work! WORK! WHY AREN'T YOU WORKING!??!

[He's hitting a crudely-constructed metal box with a wrench, over and over and over again.]

[Action C - Same Day - Phone]

I... I am hopeless. Hopeless!

[He sobs into the receiver]

It doesn't work! I've... I've lost my touch! I can construct frames, shells, yes, and wiring really is only wiring and switches are so simple but... but what good is a big red button that does nothing when you press it?!

[A pause, while he blows his nose noisily.]

They took it away from me! My genius! THEY ROBBED ME OF MY GENIUS!!! How am I going to build a Curdleinator and save us all from this horrible place without my genius?!?! THOSE BASTARDS! I WILL MAKE THEM PAY!!!
doofenstrudel: (Bad Day Doof)
[A - Action - 457 Stone Street, backdated to Monday]

[So there was the day's milk delivery. And there was the helpful poster, attached to the house's mailbox, declaring that the milk was "mandatory". Which brings us to the Doof, blithely going about his morning in a milk-free fashion. He's scrambling eggs! And making toast!]

Ha! "Mandatory", my nose! I am far too evil to comply with anything "mandatory"!

[And there's cackling, and general being pleased with himself as he eats his breakfast... But oh, the toast is dry. The eggs are too salty. He's thirsty...]

...boy, I could really use a glass of milk.

[No helping it, then. He pours himself a nice big glass, gulps it down, grimaces slightly...]

...That... wasn't so bad.

[Aaaaand he doubles over with sudden stomach cramps.]

[B - Action - Bakery, again backdated to Monday]

[Stomach cramps are no deterrent to Heinz Doofenshmirtz going to work! So there he is. At work. Pale, and shivering, and glassy-eyed, and making a valiant effort at frosting a cake. The pink roses are three layers deep, now.]

I... think I now understand why the letter said to... to not drink the milk....

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Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz

December 2011

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