It was Saturday, blast it. Jonothon was going to stay in bed for as long as possible. Saturday was that one day of the week with no responsibilities, no reasons to stress, no--
"You're still in bed? Seriously?" No onions? No, apparently not. "Not that I blame you for still being in bed. I wouldn't want to face the day with a face like that, either."
//Sod off.// The onion got an alarm clock thrown at it for its troubles.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you trying to talk into my little onion mind instead of using your mouth like normal people do. You want to know how to get rid of me? It's easy, you know. All you do is chop me up and have yourself a good cry! Oh, wait, you can't!"
That was about the point where Jonothon buried his head under his pillow. He didn't need the onion's help to be emo. He was quite capable of doing that all on his own.
"Can't kiss, can't eat, you smell like a trash heap, your family's a bunch of freaky cultists, it's no wonder you can't keep a girlfriend, la-la-la-la-la-la!"
But the onion did get bonus points for the crappy little musical number, there.
[The door's shut, but the post is totally open, if someone wants to poke at the guy who doesn't need an onion to emo.]
- Room 408, Saturday Afternoon