He goes through several rounds of bananas in his head as he raps his fist on the tree trapping him before telling himself the orange punchline. It’s followed by a couple of shave and a haircuts, as the bouncing energy bubbles fill up the space around him.
The redwood doesn’t so much as shudder until he starts in on the drumline of “YYZ”, or his best estimation of it, when the pressure of the bubbles and his own constrained bouncing cause the tree to shift just enough for a stream of bubbles and one Speedball to geyser out like so much shaken Coke.
The ring again lets him catch himself instead of pitching off into the distance, and Robbie sets himself down between Marjara and Wash and the twins. The hug seems uninterruptible on a physical level. “Therapy’s not a one size fits all miracle cure. You ever see that old I Love Lucy episode where Fred and Ricky try to make rice and it explodes all over the kitchen? – incidentally, where I got the idea for getting out from under the tree. Sometimes, the fix is messier than the problem. It’s not good or bad. It’s hard to deal when you only have an idea of how things are supposed to go.”
He looks around at the aftermath while he speaks. He doesn’t want to see Dipper’s or Wash’s faces right now, because he knows someone will be unamused with his flippancy. Looking at the ravaged forest, Robbie can practically see a similar scene of destruction, this one his, overlaid on the Hab Deck. He stares numbly at both the present and remembered tantrums and scrambled for positivity that is slipping further out of reach.
At a loss for how to contribute, Robbie crouches down beside the exhausted Marjara and asks softly, “Are you all right?”
no subject
Who’s there? Robbie.
Knock knock.
Who’s there? Banana.
Knock knock.
He goes through several rounds of bananas in his head as he raps his fist on the tree trapping him before telling himself the orange punchline. It’s followed by a couple of shave and a haircuts, as the bouncing energy bubbles fill up the space around him.
The redwood doesn’t so much as shudder until he starts in on the drumline of “YYZ”, or his best estimation of it, when the pressure of the bubbles and his own constrained bouncing cause the tree to shift just enough for a stream of bubbles and one Speedball to geyser out like so much shaken Coke.
The ring again lets him catch himself instead of pitching off into the distance, and Robbie sets himself down between Marjara and Wash and the twins. The hug seems uninterruptible on a physical level. “Therapy’s not a one size fits all miracle cure. You ever see that old I Love Lucy episode where Fred and Ricky try to make rice and it explodes all over the kitchen? – incidentally, where I got the idea for getting out from under the tree. Sometimes, the fix is messier than the problem. It’s not good or bad. It’s hard to deal when you only have an idea of how things are supposed to go.”
He looks around at the aftermath while he speaks. He doesn’t want to see Dipper’s or Wash’s faces right now, because he knows someone will be unamused with his flippancy. Looking at the ravaged forest, Robbie can practically see a similar scene of destruction, this one his, overlaid on the Hab Deck. He stares numbly at both the present and remembered tantrums and scrambled for positivity that is slipping further out of reach.
At a loss for how to contribute, Robbie crouches down beside the exhausted Marjara and asks softly, “Are you all right?”