Hotel Insanity

A Very Bad Day, A "Very Strong" Trophy

(In this chapter, half of it takes place in a day and the other half in an hour. A very long and drawn out scene, I'll warn you now; you'll see this dash when it starts: —)

Major Roles: Trophy
Minor Roles: Tissues, Soap, OJ

The setting is Trophy and Tissues' room, Hotel OJ. The sun hasn't risen yet.

Trophy is sitting on his bed, bored. He had gone to bed early the night before, but can't remember why. Tissues is asleep. Trophy's camera is at the ready, but he doesn't know what to take a picture of. He then gets an idea.

Trophy: I could always take a picture of the sunset.. but my room faces in the other direction.

He thinks.

Trophy: The rooftop! Oh-

He only then realized how loud he was, and Tissues was no heavy sleeper.

Tissues, half awake: Can you keep it down please..?

Trophy, partly whispering: Yeah dude, got it.

Tissues: Thanks.

Trophy picks up his camera and heads to the rooftop. Upon stepping onto the roof, which he was for some reason allowed to do, he felt he shouldn't be there. The slant of the roof and the darkness of the area made him uneasy. He didn't let that feeling stop him, though. He used his feet to push on the tiles to keep himself from falling. He picked up his camera, one of his hands on the point of the roof, a for some reason harsh angle.

Trophy: This'll be difficult. Wait, I don't need my hand there! I can just...

Trophy puts his other hand on the camera. Before he knew it, he was at the edge of the roof.

Trophy: Maybe I did need my hand there.

Trophy felt himself slipping off, though it didn't occur to him to grab on to the roof itself. Instead, he thought about how he'd be recovered, and how things would be fine. He hugged his camera to his chest and braced himself.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling still.

It felt like forever, until he landed on his back. He landed in a soft patch of grass, but the impact still hurt. He sat up, thankful that he even could, and rubbed the back of his head. It had taken most of the hit. However, he felt a certain part of it, then pulled his hand away, both from the fact that it hurt quite a bit, and the shock that came with what he felt. He had a dent. He used to pride himself on his appearance (among many, many other things), but now he was dented, not to mention that the grass had dirt under it, so now he was dirty too.

Trophy: Man......

He realizes something.

Trophy: I could've died then. I should be glad I'm still alive.

He looks down at what he had been holding since he started falling, which was now in his lap since he sat up.

Trophy: Oh, and my camera's fine! That's a relief.

He got to his feet. He felt a bit dizzy, and his head hurt, but he assured himself that it wasn't too bad. Of course, he had no medical expertise of any sort, so that was just an assumption, based on the fact that he didn't want it to be too bad. He picked up his camera and eyed the forest. That place had everything that he could ever want to photograph. And so he went.

Trophy hummed to himself. His head still hurt, which he thought was odd. He took his mind off of it by photographing a strange squarish flower he found. It had four large, pale blue petals and four thin, darker blue petals. It seemed to shimmer in the sun, but not for long. It began to rain, as is typical when somebody goes in the forest. Trophy's already hurting head filling with water, he tried to make his way back. As is oh-so-painfully typical, though, he stepped a bit wrong, or slipped on a wet leaf, and went crashing down again. He had:
A- crashed his head into a tree,
B- been stabbed in the arm (just enough to hurt quite a bit) by a stick,
and C- hurt his ankle.
It was safe to say that he was miserable. He also officially got another dent. In his head again as well. At this point, all he wanted was to get back to the hotel, out of the rain. He pulled himself up with the tree he hit his head on, but the one problem is that he didn't know about disastrous occurrence C. He placed his foot on the ground, expecting nothing.