Showing posts with label Painting Robert off as a psychopath is fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Painting Robert off as a psychopath is fun. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Nick - The Portrait We Paint

I wonder what somebody would think of me if they read my Classic Brian post every week, but never met me in person? While I could just ask Sunday Robert's Mizzou friends, I elect to decipher for myself instead. Here are the caricatures painted by our blog posts, as well as how accurately they reflect our real personalities.

Sunday Robert
Reading through Sunday Robert's posts, we start off with many sentimental, introspective posts. Robert maintains a strong streak of sentimentality throughout, with occasional bursts of hilarity. I imagine Classic Brian Robert to be a funny, sentimental recluse, living amongst nature and writing fiction.

Resemblance: 8/10

Monday Nick
My own posts read like a story. A story about a video game-obsessed guy with crushing social anxiety, who suddenly snapped and has been on a rampage ever since.

Resemblance: 3/10

Tuesday Mada
Mada comes and goes as she pleases, and never writes about the same thing twice. We never really know what she's going to write about or what to expect. In fact, her caricature is much like a schizophrenic cat: appearing and receding on no particular schedule, and jumping from one thought to the next.

Resemblance: 1/10

Wednesday Eliot
Here we see basically rambling about stuff without getting to a coherent point, intermingled with really interesting posts about various topics. We also get an occasional glimpse at the expert sports journalist lying underneath. He could be some kind of NBA superhero who only comes out to post really late at night, and likes to talk a lot.

Resemblance: 6/10

Thursday Brendan
Brendan's posts paint a picture of somebody who is a very talented writer, an avid fan of Bob Dylan, and generally an overachiever when it comes to writing.

Actually, that pretty much describes him in real life, too. Yeah. Wow.

Resemblance: 10/10

Friday Conor
What facts do we know about Friday Conor? He has a band and he posts really late all the time. But looking through the window of Friday Conor's posts reveals more about him: a guy who goes through frequent and very strange obsessions. In fact, if you read through select posts about Conor's many hobbies, you could very easily imagine him to be a ten-year-old.

Resemblance: 7/10

Classic Brian
Behold, ladies and gentlemen, the Classic Brian. A being of pure spite and ill-will, his only respite from causing havoc is writing lists and half-assing things. I like to picture him as some kind of blogging deity, like the Zeus of Classic Brian, because he is our namesake. Like an evil blogging god, he reigns parody down upon the plight of us mortal bloggers.

Resemblance: 4/10

Friday, February 4, 2011

Conor - Zombie Snowpocalypse Part IV: The Spiral Collapses



Robert turned his back to the rest of the pack, and stood upright. He seemed taller than normal. As Eliot and Mada started to dash away, Brian hesitated. He looked back at Robert, then at his two remaining friends. He could clearly hear the terrible shuffle of the zombie horde that was approaching their position. Somebody needed to stay. Robert put on sunglasses. Brian looked back at the other two. As they ran, Eliot fell over purposefully in a sad attempt to get more attention from Mada. Brian knew it was up to him. He caught Eliot's eye, and Eliot knew what was up. Eliot, being the only guy left at this point, was definitely fine with this.

Brian ran back to Robert and picked up a shotgun leaning on the west wall. He picked it up and dramatically cocked it. It became terribly obvious that both men were just playing a part. The pair had horribly overestimated the speed of the zombies and were left standing there in awkward silence. Brian searched for something to talk about, but Robert did not respond to his many attempts at conversation. It seemed that Robert was determined to just wear his aviators, point his guns, and stare at the doorway the zombies were about to come through.

Or at least they thought they were about to come through. Minutes passed, and the moaning of the zombies become slightly louder, but the whole situation was still pretty embarrassing.

"Yo, uh, Robert, do you think we should just head up there and join Mada and Eliot? I think... I think we're good on the whole zombie thing. We can even tell them we killed a bunch of them, but I don't really see any reason we shouldn't escape with them if-"

"It seems like you're giving up, Brian."

"No, it's just that it's pretty damn clear that-"

"It seems to me like you're giving up."

Brian opened and closed his mouth several times before recognizing there was no way to win. They could hear the helicopter land on the rooftop and leave. Brian sighed.

27 minutes later the zombie horde showed up and inexplicably numbered in the hundreds. This was Roberts element. This was what he was born to do. Brian couldn't understand it. The two pistols in his hands rang out with a the clarity of a bell, every shot louder and more deafening than the last. Every bullet buried itself in the forehead of a zombie, forever quieting his hunt for human flesh. Every gunshot lit up Robert's face dramatically. His beard that he had triumphantly started to grow since his girlfriend had died on the first day of the outbreak caught the light beautifully, but could not hide the crazy grin on his face. Robert started to laugh.

Brian looked back at the horde. It wasn't making any ground, really. There was only one small doorway in, and it was a pretty narrow hallway.

"Robert! Hey Robert!" Brian shouted.

"PRETTY BUSY KILLING ZOMBIES BRO."

"Yeah, yeah good work." Brian shouted back. "Hey I was just thinking that this is totally doable. As long as we just make sure that we alternate reloading so that one person is picking them off at all times, they shouldn't really even get all that close to us."

Robert laughed, and immediately started reloading whenever Brian was reloading out of spite. Brian didn't notice this for a while, and by the time the zombies were almost on top of them. The pair was forced to retreat up the staircase their more fortunate, more logical friends had used to escape to the roof. Brian found a couple of extremely heavy bookcases on the roof (?) that he used to block the door, but Robert, spitefully, set fire to them. Brian sighed. Brian started calling Mada and Eliot to see if they could get the helicopter to come back for them, but Robert stole and smashed Brian's phone, and then his own. Brian sighed.

The doors to the roof burst open and Brian whipped around, training his shotgun at the entry, and was surprised to see Nick standing there, looking worse for wear, but very much alive.

"Nick! We thought you were dead!" Brian shouted. For the first time since being left alone with Robert who seemed to be quickly developing sociopathic tendencies, Brian felt alive. He was filled with hope.

"What? No, I just had to abandon the room where I could broadcast everything because zombies came in. Or haven't you heard? There are zombies pretty much everywhere. I think it's due to the zombie outbreak."

"Yeah, well...."

"Sorry, honestly I'm just a little hurt you guys didn't even, like, check. Did you just turn around when you heard me shout once on the radio?"

"You screamed, several times, and then you didn't broadcast anymore."

"So yes is what you're saying. Yes, you didn't even bother to see if your friend Nick needed any help. I don't know if I mentioned all the zombies running around. It was just me and a bunch of zombies. It would've been cool if you guys had helped. Whatever. Have I missed the helicopter?"

"... Yeah, yeah it's gone. Mada and Eliot got on it, Brian and I stayed to buy them some time."

"That seems unnecessary."

"It was unnecessary."

"Well I'll just try calling them real quick." Nick said while getting his cell phone out of his pocket. "In hindsight I might be slightly to blame for you guys not coming to get me. I should have texted you guys that I was alive."

Before Nick could make the call, Robert shot Nick's hand and then shot the dropped cell phone. Robert laughed. Brian sighed. Nick bled.

There was more awkward silence as they just stood around for a while. Zombie moans could be heard as the horde clumsily tried to climb the stairs up to the rooftop, but it was obvious they wouldn't make it all the way up for an hour or so at least.