Topic on Talk:Beasley Day

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<u>The Worst Beasley Day of Her Life</u>
 
<u>The Worst Beasley Day of Her Life</u>
  
One day, Day was mid-stream when [[Farrell Seagull]] crashed through her window in a barely-controlled dive, spraying shards of glass and grey-brown feathers just absolutely everywhere, like those of the Dunnock (also known as a ‘hedge sparrow’, a delightful little bird with some really weird breeding habits).
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One day, Day was mid-stream when [[Farrell Seagull]] crashed through her window in a barely-controlled dive, spraying shards of glass and grey-brown feathers just absolutely everywhere, like those of the Dunnock (also known as a ‘hedge sparrow’, a small bird with unusual breeding habits).
  
 
“Oh no no no, what the hell are you doing?” screamed Beasley, backing away as Farrell thrashed wildly on the floor, absolutely goddamn shredding the cables she had collided with. “Farrell, Farrell, what the hell! You broke my window!” repeated Beasley as Farrell righted herself awkwardly, erratically preening her feathers. She eyed the terrified Beasley beadily, letting out a quiet “wark-wark” warning call, before turning her mind to her favorite pastime: theft, which Beasley would have known if she’d talked to any of her teammates for like, more than a minute, because Farrell would have been described as “the least sexy cryptid imaginable” by Philly Pies Hamilton stan [[Lang Richardson]], or “ow”,“what the hell, man”,”where’d my BMX go” by the late [[Jessica Telephone]].
 
“Oh no no no, what the hell are you doing?” screamed Beasley, backing away as Farrell thrashed wildly on the floor, absolutely goddamn shredding the cables she had collided with. “Farrell, Farrell, what the hell! You broke my window!” repeated Beasley as Farrell righted herself awkwardly, erratically preening her feathers. She eyed the terrified Beasley beadily, letting out a quiet “wark-wark” warning call, before turning her mind to her favorite pastime: theft, which Beasley would have known if she’d talked to any of her teammates for like, more than a minute, because Farrell would have been described as “the least sexy cryptid imaginable” by Philly Pies Hamilton stan [[Lang Richardson]], or “ow”,“what the hell, man”,”where’d my BMX go” by the late [[Jessica Telephone]].
  
Farrell began rummaging through Beasley’s belongings, snatching and swallowing anything shiny or interesting she spotted. She would pellet those out later, like an owl, hawk, or heron once she got back to her nest. Her nest, by the way, was a large wattle and daub platform (bird style!) hidden in the rafters of the Tastykake stadium constructed of stolen baseball bats, spit, and other stolen materials (like Beasley day’s HDMI cables or Telephone’s skateboards), and was largely left alone by everyone involved with the stadium out of absolute fear and / or absolute ignorance.
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Farrell began rummaging through Beasley’s belongings, snatching and swallowing anything shiny or interesting she spotted. She would pellet those out later, like an owl, hawk, or heron once she got back to her nest. Her nest, by the way, was a large wattle and daub platform hidden in the rafters of the Tastykake stadium constructed of stolen baseball bats, spit, and other stolen materials (like Beasley day’s HDMI cables or Telephone’s skateboards), and was largely left alone by everyone involved with the stadium out of absolute fear and / or absolute ignorance.
  
 
“Hey! Hey, stop that!” pleaded Beasley, waving her branded gaming gloves at Farrell as she moved to stop her cracking open and disemboweling original VHS copies of Sailor Moon. “Those were expensive! Please! I need them as background props, for my streams!” hollered Beasley. “God damn! F**k!”. Beasley couldn’t cuss, because it affected her hypothetical ad revenue.
 
“Hey! Hey, stop that!” pleaded Beasley, waving her branded gaming gloves at Farrell as she moved to stop her cracking open and disemboweling original VHS copies of Sailor Moon. “Those were expensive! Please! I need them as background props, for my streams!” hollered Beasley. “God damn! F**k!”. Beasley couldn’t cuss, because it affected her hypothetical ad revenue.