Alan Fitzgerald's Links
WHO FUCKING SAID THAT WHO CALLED MY SATCHEL A GIRL PURSE I WILL BEAT YOUR FUCKING FACE OFF WHO SAID THAT
HEY HAHAHAHHAHAHAH THIS MOTHERFUCKER GOT A ᵍᶦʳˡ ᵖᵘʳˢᵉ
[sound of distant footsteps running and getting closer] YOUTH ROT! Greetings fellow Youth Rot! I almost couldn't catch up to you there with your rollerskates HAHA they're really fast I should [frantic scribbling] write that [scribbling] down [scribbling] for future reference just in case. My breathing? It's because I'm very very tired from the running not from any substances haha, Youth Rot. What is your name, by the way? He-- HEY WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY MEET AND GREETS WHAT DID YOU SAY I'LL FILET YOUR GREEN DAD LIKE A FUCKING SALMON WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY MEET AND GREETS YOUTH ROT also where are is pink meat Youth Culture friend just asking for personal reasons?
What's with the heavy breathing all the time? This is why your meet and greets are always busts—HEY WATCH IT don't make me call Dad like last time!
[ragged breathing] I hope your son calls you again on his little cellular phone SO I CAN SKIN YOU LIKE A FUCKING RUG ":-)" MAYBE I'LL EVEN GET TAXIDERMY
IF MY SON EVER FUCKING CALLS ME ABOUT YOU AGAIN I WILL SNAP ALL OF YOUR SPINDLY CRACK-RIDDEN FINGERS BACKWARDS SO YOU CAN NEVER WRITE AGAIN AND THAT IS A FUCKING PROMISE.
If I ever see you outside a McDonalds again I'm going to ask the taxi driver to hit you with his car.
PELASE BURGER
I'm as thrilled as any good author would be at seeing my tomes on his shelves, but his green and red combination is just so inspiring! ":-(" I'm getting tired of pouring red corn syrup on myself as an excuse to see it.
Bennett is a big fan of Alan’s books, even keeps a shelf on the break room with all of them and reads them whenever he’s not placing chicken nuggets on other people’s guts. He shared cryptid conversations with him on the ER room as Bennett tried to sew back one of the man’s arms, doesn’t tend to ask him how such violent wounds happen. Even if he knew about Alan’s crimes, he would stand on a neutral ground. He would hate to be his next victim, solely because he wouldn't be able to read about his own death if he’s…dead!
[lounging on armchair and going through sheets of paper from his satchel] Ah, Fukujirou! ":-)" I hope you don't mind that I let myself in, it seems your son 'Mugi' had left the doors unlocked -- and I wouldn't want anything to happen to him! I'm just sorting through some drafts... [lowers voice to a murmur] and you didn't hear it from me, but my latest publisher is being a real... ah, snob lately. [voice returns to normal volume] Perhaps I should look into that whole "self publishing" business for some of these numbers, eh? Would you like to take a look? I can put on the kettle! ":-)"
You are a disgusting little red. Your grotesquely lavish bar is overcompensation and its patrons are swine and the drinks you cast before them are pearls. The amount of times I've excused myself to the bathroom and jumped out the window without paying the bill is immeasurable, and I have no registered tab. I WILL have the soda water highball, and you WILL be quick about your business.
Good day.
I'm quite honoured to have a 𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙊𝙐𝙎 𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍 present in my bar but please stop rambling sir my customers think you're a junkie
[ringing doorbell 86 times] LET ME IN. I BROUGHT MY "HOW TO FIELD DRESS A DEER" MANUAL. I THINK YOU'LL FIND ITS APPLICATION MOST INTERESTING!
Mr. Fitzgerald, how many times must I tell you I am no deer! If it were not a risk to your own safety, I would have opened the door by now...
I know you saw me in your garage that day. Perhaps you should start sleeping with a revolver under the pillow. Ha-ha. ":-)"
Mr. Murakami! ":-)" The work you did for the cover of Lepidopterology was simply extraordinary, I cannot thank you enough for such an interest-piquing display! I cannot possibly describe the harmony with the written text... and I appreciate the discounted price deeply, of course. But! I have been on the 'Internet' as of late, and I've found your work on clothing! Perhaps you would be interested in discussing neckwear in-person?
By some way of chance, Murakami is Alan's main graphic designer for his published work. Neither of them know the other is a Mignyan, and Murakami is just a touch too naïve to read just slightly deeper into Mr. Fitzgeralds writing. It resounds with him that the author describes his main character as something inhuman, and Murakami is admittedly guilty of providing discounts when he knows Alan can't exactly afford it. He can just send the check in next week. Or the next after that. They communicate solely through digital means.
"........Oh, ah, you've seen some of the fabrics I've done.. ? Ah, thank you, of course, thank you. Please don't mention it, you can send it in whenever the time is best for you. I think my calendar might be booked that day.. maybe some other time, but still, I'm very glad you liked it. I, haha, um, really enjoyed the text."
After all this time, I still think all those spindly limbs look like a bundle of roses. They would look better trimmed, though. ":-)"
Absolutely fucking disgusted. When Joseph had just dropped everything to move to this city with Tholo ten years ago, he had nothing except a job contact he had managed to reach out to ahead of time. They were both Mignyans with a passion for writing, old clothing, movies... Joseph was truly under the impression he had found a friend to hang onto during the shakiest period of his life. If only he had actually read Alan Fitzgerald's books. Every red flag looks the same when you're wearing rose-tinted glasses. If this man ever tries to contact him, or God forbid, get anywhere near his child, Joseph is going to tear him apart limb by limb. Sometimes when he leaves the apartment at night, or hell, even day, some anxiety bubbles up in his throat when he can't see around the shadowy corner to the stairwell. -- "... Alright. Deadbolted. Tholo. Tholo? Hey, are you listening to me? Sorry sport, I don't mean to talk to you like that, but this is serious, okay? Please promise me that you'll never leave the apartment without me; that you'll NEVER sneak out at night. If you ever want to go somewhere, you can just ask me, okay? Please. Please promise your dad. You know I love you to the moon and back, kiddo."