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apocalypsosTitle: let’s never discuss this again
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2300 words
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Jared/Jensen
Warnings: Incest, sex, bad language, dogs and cats living together … er. Hi.
Author’s note: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
j2_otpathon, for the prompt Sam/Dean, body swap, Jared’s apartment. Hello, and welcome to Crackfic Central. HEE.
** let‘s never discuss this again **
*
“Dean.”
That’s his name. Dean Michael Winchester, eldest son of John and Mary Winchester and older brother of Sam Winchester. Not like you don’t know that already, but the second he opens his eyes to find himself in someone else’s boxers lying in a strange bed and staring at a photo of Sam hugging a brunette he doesn‘t know, he figures he’s got to clarify that.
You know, what with not being in his own body anymore.
“Dean.“
There’s a shove from behind him. If he were really stupid he’d turn around and shove Sam back. Would serve him right, the big dumbass, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s in Dean’s body.
At least, Dean thinks he is. Just give him a second, all right?
There’s another shove and he grumbles, “Yeah, I’m up,” because it’s either that or slap his hand over Sam’s mouth to shut him up. Surprisingly enough, he’s not as up for that as you’d think, as Sam’s usual response -- left over from the days of being barely taller than Dad’s knees -- is to lick his palm with as much baby brother slobber as possible.
He knows he’s not in his own body, though. That’s a given. Some things are just patently obvious. And from the sound of Sam’s voice he’s not in his anymore, either.
The thing is, if they’ve swapped bodies, something is really fucking off about this.
Not the least of which being, you know, the whole sharing-a-bed thing. What the fuck’s up with that?
*
Two minutes later Dean’s sitting up in bed holding a nearly-empty bottle of lube he found under his pillow while his own face tilts into his line of vision above a ridiculously large dildo that probably requires some sort of weapons permit to own legally. He takes one look at the damn thing and the absurd thought of Didn‘t I see that once in a forest in California? races gleefully through his mind like a naked frat pledge during Greek Week.
“Dean, I think this might be something new and different for us, man,” Sam says.
And that’s when the dogs attack.
*
Look, it’s not like they’ve never switched bodies before.
In fact, Sam and Dean have switched bodies with one another seven times, once for two straight months. Dean’s been turned into a baby, Sam’s been turned into an old man, and they’ve both been turned into girls a grand total of twenty-one times. Sam’s been turned into a hamster, a dragon, a yak, a block of mozzarella cheese and a pile of dung beetles thanks to a younger Dean’s unfortunate attempt to get himself a puppy and rid himself of a little brother at the same time. Dean’s been turned into a donkey, a rocking chair, a chimpanzee, two tickets to a Knicks-Lakers game and an Australian complete with the accent and a strange new craving for Vegemite.
This whole shape-shifting, body-swapping bullshit?
Yeah, that ain’t new.
This is new, though. That, at least, Dean’s got to admit as soon as he looks in the goddamn mirror.
*
Five minutes after the two of them roll out of bed and throw on some clothes the phone rings. Sam puts it on speaker.
“Who is this?” the voice on the other end of the phone asks. It sounds a hell of a lot like Dean’s voice, but neither one of them is hedging their bets. Hell, maybe even their voices switched bodies while they were at it. Maybe everybody sounds like Dean now.
What? You don’t want me to get started on that day a glamour backfired and made every person on the planet look like John Winchester. Just because you don’t remember it now doesn’t mean you weren’t fucking traumatized by it.
Okay, surprised. Maybe “traumatized” is a little much.
“I could ask you the same question,” Sam says, then asks, “Why are you calling here this early in the morning?”
Dean keeps pacing back and forth across the living room and staring at the phone like it’s made out of Jell-O. He’s a little antsy, but then again you would be, too, if you woke up to find someone else’s cock in your boxers. You know, if you’d been wearing boxers.
“That’s my apartment,” whoever it is says. “My name’s Jared Padalecki and I -- hey, where are my dogs?”
The dogs, these two huge lovable floppy dogs that remind Dean a little too much of Sammy at his happiest, have settled down in front of the couch, the better for Sam to reach out and scratch between their ears every so often.
“Look, they‘re fine,” Dean says. “This is your place?”
“Yeah. Let me guess … two of us, two of you, right?”
Sam exchanges a look at Dean over the coffee table and says, “Yes,” and he starts to say something about four people switching four bodies but then the two guys on the other end of the line begin to argue in hushed tones and neither one of them are paying Sam and Dean any fucking attention.
Not that Dean blames them, really, given that within the next thirty seconds Dean picks up a script from the coffee table, flips through it out of curiosity, and hisses, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Hell, by then none of them are all that focused.
*
In case you were wondering, the Winchesters have switched bodies with other people only four times. You’ve got to luck out at something, right?
Dean once switched bodies with a cocktail waitress whose deliciously tight leather miniskirt he’d been trying to get into for weeks. Shockingly enough, this was not what he’d had in mind, although since she’d been lucky enough to end up in his body the two of them managed to get at least one good thing out of the deal.
Okay, five good things for him and two for her.
Hey, he’d never had that much of a problem with turning into a chick, if you catch my drift.
Sam hasn’t told his family but he’d once switched bodies with his anatomy teacher in college. Neither one of them had appreciated the irony.
Before college, though, he switched bodies with this dork in his high school whose father definitely wasn’t making him get up early to do PT before classes. By the time Sam got his body back the weaselly little nerd had beaten up every kid who’d ever picked on him, which it turned out was a rather extensive club that turned away no one and quite possibly had bake sales to increase membership.
Sam had never been so glad to move to a new town in his life.
John once switched bodies with a four-year-old blonde girl with pigtails, which they’d all sworn never to discuss again, at least not while sober.
This, though. This is like a supernatural version of spiritual pick-up-sticks.
It should probably be mentioned that that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds.
*
After the phone call is over and the entire situation has been figured out -- although the cause of it is still woefully not apparent -- Sam looks up at Dean from the couch and says, “Actors?“
Dean can’t be sure, but he has this weird feeling that somewhere in a motel room in Idaho Jared is looking up at Jensen and saying, “Winchesters?”
Hell, it has been that kind of day, after all.
*
So from what they can tell Jared and Jensen live together in Vancouver.
Except we’re not saying that because that would be bad.
So instead we’re saying that Jared and Jensen are two actors who are such good friends that Jensen sleeps on Jared’s couch a lot and only goes over to his apartment to do things like replace moldy bread and get more lube.
Also, they play Dean and Sam on some TV show. If you think that throws Dean and Sam at all, then you’ve obviously missed out on the three times they had tails, the six times they had wings, the two times they had horns, and that one time Sam woke up covered from head to toe in bright pink monkey hair that was too thick to shave or cut and took a week to shed off.
Trust me, this is nothing.
A weird nothing, but still.
Currently, though, Jared and Jensen are in the Impala for the next ten hours or so driving up to their place. And if anything is going to freak Dean out, the thought of those two driving up in their bodies and in his baby?
Yeah, that’ll do it.
*
Sam and Dean, on the other hand, are bored out of their minds.
“I’m bored,” Sam says, and throws one of the dog toys across the room.
Both dogs lift their heads up from the floor and give him this look that says, Dude, seriously, we can‘t handle more than one crisis at a time, and that includes body swapping and something as simple as fetching a ball.
Dean glances over from the recliner across from the TV and drawls, “Thank you, Captain Obvious. You’ve saved us all.”
Sam sighs. “Do you think we should have told them … you know.”
“If you can’t say it, you’re not allowed to do it anymore,” Dean says, scratching at his belly and grinning when Sam‘s eyes follow the movement. Neither one of them bothered with changing into anything other than pajama pants. Hell, it’s not like they’re going anywhere fancy. Besides, half of the fun of being in Sam’s body (or something kind of like it) is making Sam feel like a perv for wanting to make out with himself.
One of the dogs gets up and shuffles over to nose at Dean’s palm, and he rubs at the top of its head like he’s making a wish.
“Do you think we should have asked for permission to …”
Sam gives him this look.
Dean gives him this other look.
“Fuck like bunnies all over their damn apartment?”
Sam shrugs. “It would kill ten hours.”
“So would yahtzee. And poker. And knitting. And --”
“All right, I get the picture.”
“Get all the pictures you want, little brother, since you’re sure as hell not fucking me unless --”
That’s about as far as Dean gets before he develops a sudden case of terminal muteness. Dean’s never heard of a biological condition in which a guy who looks a hell of a lot like you (except with more freckles and blond highlights and the same huge grin as your dopey little brother) suddenly crawls into your lap, sticks his hand down your pants, wraps his fingers around your cock, and makes your voice vanish like smoke in a stiff breeze. But hell, if it is a medical condition, the perks trounce the fuck out of laryngitis.
Not like it would matter if he could speak anyway, what with Sam’s tongue diving into his mouth and going for broke.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re thinking too much,” Sam says.
Right, then. Less thinking, more fucking.
Dean plans on getting right on that problem yesterday.
*
And no, by “problem,” he does not mean “how he’s going to get that big fucking dildo up his ass.”
Well, that’s not what he means right now. Give him an hour. The thought’ll come up.
*
Three hours later Dean’s pressing Sam into the mattress with Sam‘s hands cuffed to the bed frame, Dean thrusting into him in slow hard strokes like he goddamn means it. Sam pushes back with jerky movements of his hips and gasps for air like he’ll never be able to get enough.
They’re about halfway through the box of sex toys they found under the bed. They made a checklist and everything.
That’s when their world shakes like an Etch-A-Sketch and the next thing they know they’re back in their bodies.
Which are somehow crammed into the backseat of the Impala in a very compromising position at a deserted rest stop in the middle of nowhere.
The two of them freeze for a second to get a hold of their bearings, although Dean’s mostly got hold of Sam’s legs with his hands and Sam’s mostly got hold of Dean’s cock with something that’s not his hands. The two of them are out of breath and sweaty and Dean’s kind of regretting the hell out of the fact that he was getting laid and wasn’t even getting to experience it. On the other hand, once Jared and Jensen get back to their apartment they’re not exactly going to be in a position to argue. Or a position to do much else other than finish pounding each other into the mattress.
Sam takes a deep shuddering breath and shifts his hips in a way that has Dean making choked-off sounds in the back of his throat. “Do you think we should call them and tell them where we left the keys to the handcuffs?”
“Oh, hell, no,” Dean says with a shake of his head. There are several million conversations Dean doesn’t want to take the chance of having with Jared and/or Jensen, and one of them is why they switched bodies with two brothers and promptly decided a big gay orgy was on their to-do list.
Unless …
“Hey, you think all the sex broke whatever did this?” Dean asks.
Sam frowns. “You so sure about that theory?”
Dean’s warm palm runs over the length of Sam’s cock in a teasing touch. “You really want to take that chance, Sammy?”
Well, hell, of course he doesn’t. Sammy covers all his bases, just like the time he had to switch John and the four-year-old blonde girl back into their own bodies by buying them both ponies.
But hey, we’re not allowed to talk about that.
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2300 words
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Jared/Jensen
Warnings: Incest, sex, bad language, dogs and cats living together … er. Hi.
Author’s note: Written for the
j2_otpathon, for the prompt Sam/Dean, body swap, Jared’s apartment. Hello, and welcome to Crackfic Central. HEE.“Dean.”
That’s his name. Dean Michael Winchester, eldest son of John and Mary Winchester and older brother of Sam Winchester. Not like you don’t know that already, but the second he opens his eyes to find himself in someone else’s boxers lying in a strange bed and staring at a photo of Sam hugging a brunette he doesn‘t know, he figures he’s got to clarify that.
You know, what with not being in his own body anymore.
“Dean.“
There’s a shove from behind him. If he were really stupid he’d turn around and shove Sam back. Would serve him right, the big dumbass, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s in Dean’s body.
At least, Dean thinks he is. Just give him a second, all right?
There’s another shove and he grumbles, “Yeah, I’m up,” because it’s either that or slap his hand over Sam’s mouth to shut him up. Surprisingly enough, he’s not as up for that as you’d think, as Sam’s usual response -- left over from the days of being barely taller than Dad’s knees -- is to lick his palm with as much baby brother slobber as possible.
He knows he’s not in his own body, though. That’s a given. Some things are just patently obvious. And from the sound of Sam’s voice he’s not in his anymore, either.
The thing is, if they’ve swapped bodies, something is really fucking off about this.
Not the least of which being, you know, the whole sharing-a-bed thing. What the fuck’s up with that?
Two minutes later Dean’s sitting up in bed holding a nearly-empty bottle of lube he found under his pillow while his own face tilts into his line of vision above a ridiculously large dildo that probably requires some sort of weapons permit to own legally. He takes one look at the damn thing and the absurd thought of Didn‘t I see that once in a forest in California? races gleefully through his mind like a naked frat pledge during Greek Week.
“Dean, I think this might be something new and different for us, man,” Sam says.
And that’s when the dogs attack.
Look, it’s not like they’ve never switched bodies before.
In fact, Sam and Dean have switched bodies with one another seven times, once for two straight months. Dean’s been turned into a baby, Sam’s been turned into an old man, and they’ve both been turned into girls a grand total of twenty-one times. Sam’s been turned into a hamster, a dragon, a yak, a block of mozzarella cheese and a pile of dung beetles thanks to a younger Dean’s unfortunate attempt to get himself a puppy and rid himself of a little brother at the same time. Dean’s been turned into a donkey, a rocking chair, a chimpanzee, two tickets to a Knicks-Lakers game and an Australian complete with the accent and a strange new craving for Vegemite.
This whole shape-shifting, body-swapping bullshit?
Yeah, that ain’t new.
This is new, though. That, at least, Dean’s got to admit as soon as he looks in the goddamn mirror.
Five minutes after the two of them roll out of bed and throw on some clothes the phone rings. Sam puts it on speaker.
“Who is this?” the voice on the other end of the phone asks. It sounds a hell of a lot like Dean’s voice, but neither one of them is hedging their bets. Hell, maybe even their voices switched bodies while they were at it. Maybe everybody sounds like Dean now.
What? You don’t want me to get started on that day a glamour backfired and made every person on the planet look like John Winchester. Just because you don’t remember it now doesn’t mean you weren’t fucking traumatized by it.
Okay, surprised. Maybe “traumatized” is a little much.
“I could ask you the same question,” Sam says, then asks, “Why are you calling here this early in the morning?”
Dean keeps pacing back and forth across the living room and staring at the phone like it’s made out of Jell-O. He’s a little antsy, but then again you would be, too, if you woke up to find someone else’s cock in your boxers. You know, if you’d been wearing boxers.
“That’s my apartment,” whoever it is says. “My name’s Jared Padalecki and I -- hey, where are my dogs?”
The dogs, these two huge lovable floppy dogs that remind Dean a little too much of Sammy at his happiest, have settled down in front of the couch, the better for Sam to reach out and scratch between their ears every so often.
“Look, they‘re fine,” Dean says. “This is your place?”
“Yeah. Let me guess … two of us, two of you, right?”
Sam exchanges a look at Dean over the coffee table and says, “Yes,” and he starts to say something about four people switching four bodies but then the two guys on the other end of the line begin to argue in hushed tones and neither one of them are paying Sam and Dean any fucking attention.
Not that Dean blames them, really, given that within the next thirty seconds Dean picks up a script from the coffee table, flips through it out of curiosity, and hisses, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Hell, by then none of them are all that focused.
In case you were wondering, the Winchesters have switched bodies with other people only four times. You’ve got to luck out at something, right?
Dean once switched bodies with a cocktail waitress whose deliciously tight leather miniskirt he’d been trying to get into for weeks. Shockingly enough, this was not what he’d had in mind, although since she’d been lucky enough to end up in his body the two of them managed to get at least one good thing out of the deal.
Okay, five good things for him and two for her.
Hey, he’d never had that much of a problem with turning into a chick, if you catch my drift.
Sam hasn’t told his family but he’d once switched bodies with his anatomy teacher in college. Neither one of them had appreciated the irony.
Before college, though, he switched bodies with this dork in his high school whose father definitely wasn’t making him get up early to do PT before classes. By the time Sam got his body back the weaselly little nerd had beaten up every kid who’d ever picked on him, which it turned out was a rather extensive club that turned away no one and quite possibly had bake sales to increase membership.
Sam had never been so glad to move to a new town in his life.
John once switched bodies with a four-year-old blonde girl with pigtails, which they’d all sworn never to discuss again, at least not while sober.
This, though. This is like a supernatural version of spiritual pick-up-sticks.
It should probably be mentioned that that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds.
After the phone call is over and the entire situation has been figured out -- although the cause of it is still woefully not apparent -- Sam looks up at Dean from the couch and says, “Actors?“
Dean can’t be sure, but he has this weird feeling that somewhere in a motel room in Idaho Jared is looking up at Jensen and saying, “Winchesters?”
Hell, it has been that kind of day, after all.
So from what they can tell Jared and Jensen live together in Vancouver.
Except we’re not saying that because that would be bad.
So instead we’re saying that Jared and Jensen are two actors who are such good friends that Jensen sleeps on Jared’s couch a lot and only goes over to his apartment to do things like replace moldy bread and get more lube.
Also, they play Dean and Sam on some TV show. If you think that throws Dean and Sam at all, then you’ve obviously missed out on the three times they had tails, the six times they had wings, the two times they had horns, and that one time Sam woke up covered from head to toe in bright pink monkey hair that was too thick to shave or cut and took a week to shed off.
Trust me, this is nothing.
A weird nothing, but still.
Currently, though, Jared and Jensen are in the Impala for the next ten hours or so driving up to their place. And if anything is going to freak Dean out, the thought of those two driving up in their bodies and in his baby?
Yeah, that’ll do it.
Sam and Dean, on the other hand, are bored out of their minds.
“I’m bored,” Sam says, and throws one of the dog toys across the room.
Both dogs lift their heads up from the floor and give him this look that says, Dude, seriously, we can‘t handle more than one crisis at a time, and that includes body swapping and something as simple as fetching a ball.
Dean glances over from the recliner across from the TV and drawls, “Thank you, Captain Obvious. You’ve saved us all.”
Sam sighs. “Do you think we should have told them … you know.”
“If you can’t say it, you’re not allowed to do it anymore,” Dean says, scratching at his belly and grinning when Sam‘s eyes follow the movement. Neither one of them bothered with changing into anything other than pajama pants. Hell, it’s not like they’re going anywhere fancy. Besides, half of the fun of being in Sam’s body (or something kind of like it) is making Sam feel like a perv for wanting to make out with himself.
One of the dogs gets up and shuffles over to nose at Dean’s palm, and he rubs at the top of its head like he’s making a wish.
“Do you think we should have asked for permission to …”
Sam gives him this look.
Dean gives him this other look.
“Fuck like bunnies all over their damn apartment?”
Sam shrugs. “It would kill ten hours.”
“So would yahtzee. And poker. And knitting. And --”
“All right, I get the picture.”
“Get all the pictures you want, little brother, since you’re sure as hell not fucking me unless --”
That’s about as far as Dean gets before he develops a sudden case of terminal muteness. Dean’s never heard of a biological condition in which a guy who looks a hell of a lot like you (except with more freckles and blond highlights and the same huge grin as your dopey little brother) suddenly crawls into your lap, sticks his hand down your pants, wraps his fingers around your cock, and makes your voice vanish like smoke in a stiff breeze. But hell, if it is a medical condition, the perks trounce the fuck out of laryngitis.
Not like it would matter if he could speak anyway, what with Sam’s tongue diving into his mouth and going for broke.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re thinking too much,” Sam says.
Right, then. Less thinking, more fucking.
Dean plans on getting right on that problem yesterday.
And no, by “problem,” he does not mean “how he’s going to get that big fucking dildo up his ass.”
Well, that’s not what he means right now. Give him an hour. The thought’ll come up.
Three hours later Dean’s pressing Sam into the mattress with Sam‘s hands cuffed to the bed frame, Dean thrusting into him in slow hard strokes like he goddamn means it. Sam pushes back with jerky movements of his hips and gasps for air like he’ll never be able to get enough.
They’re about halfway through the box of sex toys they found under the bed. They made a checklist and everything.
That’s when their world shakes like an Etch-A-Sketch and the next thing they know they’re back in their bodies.
Which are somehow crammed into the backseat of the Impala in a very compromising position at a deserted rest stop in the middle of nowhere.
The two of them freeze for a second to get a hold of their bearings, although Dean’s mostly got hold of Sam’s legs with his hands and Sam’s mostly got hold of Dean’s cock with something that’s not his hands. The two of them are out of breath and sweaty and Dean’s kind of regretting the hell out of the fact that he was getting laid and wasn’t even getting to experience it. On the other hand, once Jared and Jensen get back to their apartment they’re not exactly going to be in a position to argue. Or a position to do much else other than finish pounding each other into the mattress.
Sam takes a deep shuddering breath and shifts his hips in a way that has Dean making choked-off sounds in the back of his throat. “Do you think we should call them and tell them where we left the keys to the handcuffs?”
“Oh, hell, no,” Dean says with a shake of his head. There are several million conversations Dean doesn’t want to take the chance of having with Jared and/or Jensen, and one of them is why they switched bodies with two brothers and promptly decided a big gay orgy was on their to-do list.
Unless …
“Hey, you think all the sex broke whatever did this?” Dean asks.
Sam frowns. “You so sure about that theory?”
Dean’s warm palm runs over the length of Sam’s cock in a teasing touch. “You really want to take that chance, Sammy?”
Well, hell, of course he doesn’t. Sammy covers all his bases, just like the time he had to switch John and the four-year-old blonde girl back into their own bodies by buying them both ponies.
But hey, we’re not allowed to talk about that.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 08:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 08:46 pm (UTC)You totally win <3<3
This was freaking fantastic
no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 08:54 pm (UTC)except every person on the planet look like John Winchester. is actully really really
hotscareyno subject
Date: 2007-01-10 09:01 pm (UTC)I will read it when I get home. *bookmarks*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 09:01 pm (UTC)They made a checklist and everything.
That line was the cherry on top of the icing on top of the top tier of the cake. As it were.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 10:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 10:18 pm (UTC)Also, now I really, really want to read about the time Sam turned into a block of mozzarella cheese. *eg*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 10:53 pm (UTC)But in that really, really *good* way. Wheeeeeee!
*luff*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 10:53 pm (UTC)And... *cough giggle cough* I'm sure a sequel with a big gay orgy would make Sammy very happy? *grins hugely*
AWESOME fic.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 11:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 11:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 11:59 pm (UTC)So from what they can tell Jared and Jensen live together in Vancouver.
Except we're not saying that because that would be bad.
Bad? Why bad? Noooo!
There are several million conversations Dean doesn't want to take the chance of having with Jared and/or Jensen, and one of them is why they switched bodies with two brothers and promptly decided a big gay orgy was on their to-do list.
*laughs and laughs and laughs* I'm sure Jared and Jensen feel the same way.
Heee!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 12:09 am (UTC)Freaking awesome.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 12:28 am (UTC)This is so absolutely off the wall and hysterical and AWESOME and omg, when Dean started listing all the things they've turned into, I started laughing and have not stopped since. That might've been thirty minutes ago.
Thank you SO MUCH for this, baby! ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 01:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 03:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 03:38 am (UTC)This is the best! Just the idea of the boys switching bodies four ways is crack enough, but Dean going through all the switching they've already done was hilarious! Kind of reminded me of Bubba in Forrest Gump, talking about shrimp.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 03:50 am (UTC)absolutely awesome. i'm snorting out loud over here
no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 04:05 am (UTC)*giggles*
no subject
Date: 2007-01-11 05:14 am (UTC)