Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doofenstrudel) wrote2011-07-13 01:11 am
doofenstrudel) wrote2011-07-13 01:11 am
Entry tags:
01 - Wakey Wakey
[Heinz Doofenshmirtz is hardly a morning person. He can be up in the morning, yes, but his brain takes a few more minutes to kick in and get to the same stage of alertness as the rest of him. It did not occur to him that he wasn't in his own bed. After swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up, it didn't occur to him that those slippers that his feet felt weren't his. On autopilot, he slipped his feet into them, yawned, rubbed his eyes, felt about in his mouth for his grind-guard....]
...whrrphthpph? Ptui!
[No grind-guard. Had he forgotten to put it in last night? He rubbed his jaw, glanced to the side of the bed... then blinked. Wait. Wait. That wasn't his nightstand. And this wasn't his house. These weren't his pajamas, and that wasn't his bed, and that wasn't...
Was that a woman in the bed, over there? That was very much a strange woman in his not-bed! He sprang upwards with an awkward exclamation and stumbled away, now wide awake and fully engaged with the situation.]
...what was I doing last night?! ...I wasn't doing anything last night! I'd had a cup of hot chocolate after working on my Acne-inator, and then grabbed a book, definitely put in my grind-guard, went to bed, and... dwah!
[He had turned himself around and had started to pace. However, being unfamiliar with the room's layout, he stumbled clear into a low shelf, rattling the phone off its hook and bringing a framed photograph to his attention. Him and the lady in the bed. Standing together. Smiling pleasantly, dressed for their wedding.]
Oh boy. Oooh boy. This is strange. I don't remember this. I would think I would remember something like this... This doesn't look like Vegas and there aren't any Elvis impersonators involved, far as I can see. That's how these "wake up in a bed married to a strange woman" things work, right? Vegas? Umbrella drinks? Rhinestones?
[He tilts the picture this way and that, indeed determining a lack of Elvis-content, continuing to mutter to himself. With the phone off the hook, it's likely to be carrying his voice to the big giant Mayfield party line.]
...whrrphthpph? Ptui!
[No grind-guard. Had he forgotten to put it in last night? He rubbed his jaw, glanced to the side of the bed... then blinked. Wait. Wait. That wasn't his nightstand. And this wasn't his house. These weren't his pajamas, and that wasn't his bed, and that wasn't...
Was that a woman in the bed, over there? That was very much a strange woman in his not-bed! He sprang upwards with an awkward exclamation and stumbled away, now wide awake and fully engaged with the situation.]
...what was I doing last night?! ...I wasn't doing anything last night! I'd had a cup of hot chocolate after working on my Acne-inator, and then grabbed a book, definitely put in my grind-guard, went to bed, and... dwah!
[He had turned himself around and had started to pace. However, being unfamiliar with the room's layout, he stumbled clear into a low shelf, rattling the phone off its hook and bringing a framed photograph to his attention. Him and the lady in the bed. Standing together. Smiling pleasantly, dressed for their wedding.]
Oh boy. Oooh boy. This is strange. I don't remember this. I would think I would remember something like this... This doesn't look like Vegas and there aren't any Elvis impersonators involved, far as I can see. That's how these "wake up in a bed married to a strange woman" things work, right? Vegas? Umbrella drinks? Rhinestones?
[He tilts the picture this way and that, indeed determining a lack of Elvis-content, continuing to mutter to himself. With the phone off the hook, it's likely to be carrying his voice to the big giant Mayfield party line.]