Pollution (Good Omens)

[befouled.livejournal.com]

It wasn't so much his new environment that confused him as it was the test he had to take to remain there. Pollution had never taken a written test before, much less ever had a need for one... but, he thought to himself, there must be a time and a place for everything.

The questions didn't seem the least bit difficult. In fact, he was surprised they weren't just some practical joke. But the test wasn't going to do itself; he could feel the once polished wood of the table on which the exams rested start to rot and crack in response to his arrival. Best get to it, then.

After giving the questions a brief once-over, the Horseman put his pen to the paper and began to write. (But not before leaving a rather satisfying ink blot on the paper, of course.)

1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

"The moldy kind, if I had to choose. Cheese is (unfortunately) good for a person. But I hardly see why it matters; I don't care much for food... unless it comes in a styrofoam container."

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

Pollution shrugged a careless shoulder, stirring up a cloud of dust in the process. "Death is hardly my realm... but with names like those , I'm sure War would be happy to dispose of them for you."

3. What time is it where you are?

He looked up and around, quickly, before scribbling out his reply.

"If you're going to ask, you ought to have put a clock in this room ... shouldn't you know the answer?"

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

... whoever they were. Pollution puzzled at the question for far longer than was necessary, ink dripping from his pen all the while.

Finally, he settled on: "... which is more likely to result in sexually transmitted disease?"

Of course, illness wasn't his forte, either; that was the realm of his predecessor, Pestilence. That man was disease itself. Perfection in the shape of the Plague. Pollution's eyes gleamed with an almost unsettling reverence.

Back at the rotting table, one of the legs threatened to give way.

5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

"... I never thought of a bar," he admitted. With the admission came an eerie smile and another loud cracking noise. Wit had gone completely overlooked, in favor of the new possibilities stirring in his head. "I suppose that would be as good a place as any to infest... inhabit."

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

Mythology? Harry, Fred and George hardly sounded like gods, nor like angels or demons; God didn't seem too fond of English names, after all. Pollution hmm'ed thoughtfully at the question. Wrote something about diseases again. Scribbled it out.

"They could all marry each other. I don't care."

He paused. "I would send them aerosol cans as a wedding gift."

It was much better than a toaster, at any rate.

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

"Surely you must of figured it out by now? I put it there, of course. Every time. It will continue to clutter your desk, and the other dismal surroundings in your office."

Pollution looked around, then added, as an afterthought: "... I thought you would like it. Really."

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

This warranted a rather indignant look from the Horseman.

"Where did you think we got global warming? Radiation poisoning? ... gum underneath your desk?"

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

A bribe? But what did he have to offer? More importantly, did all tests require people to bribe others into voting in their favor?

Well, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Pollution thought about it and, coming up with nothing, decided to write: "I hope you're interested in depleted uranium."

I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Pollution
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Pollution
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Pollution
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ...pity there's still a world to rule Pollution

Comments

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

Rose beams. 'Oh, yes, but my teacher wouldn't. Are you sticking it to the man, too?'

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Teachers. Right, those. He hadn't even considered what their reaction would be, though on second thought he really didn't see the need. Perhaps it'd be best not to agitate them, though. Apparently, they held some sort of authority in this environment.

Pollution had heard the term "sticking it to the man" once before, but had never really figured out his meaning. So when he heard it this time, he simply raised a brow and thought of the best way to phrase his answer.

"Well..." he began, hesitant. "If it's with an infected needle, I don't see why not."

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

Rose's brows snap together with an almost audible clang.

'I did not mean that way,' she says coldly. 'Infected needles are not nice. They can kill people.'

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Well, yes. But that was the point, wasn't it? Pollution looked visibly deflated by her response.

"Well then, I don't suppose I'll be sticking it to anyone." he said, still trying to make sense of it. He had been so sure that was what she meant. Really, people these days just didn't appreciate a good virus going around...

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

'Then you are a conformist,' Rose says cruelly. 'Who hates the wales. Shame on you.'

She was a little influenced by Dax and Chance earlier on.

[befouled.livejournal.com]

His reply was, again, the result of his own confusion on the subject and the resulting attempt to placate the girl (who didn't seem to like his idea of sticking it to the man).

"I don't hate whales," he said with a shrug. "I don't suppose I feel anything towards them. Pity they haven't the sense to swim away from an oil spill..."

And then Pollution looked away, talking more to himself than to anyone else. "But then, that's just the way things are. If they did, I'd hardly have a job at all. People rather enjoy when an oil spill pops up in the nightly news. Something to talk about, really."

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

Rose is instantly curious. 'Are you the man who spills all the oil, then? You must get paid a lot. You make animals and fish cry, you know. Like foxes that get squashed in the road. Aren't you unhappy with yourself?'

Like I was when I got caught shoplifting. It was not stealing until the nail-polish remover and David caught me, but I stopped then.

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Pollution shrugged again. Sometimes he spilled it. Sometimes he made sure there was something to spill. "I don't get paid at all, really," he told her. He couldn't get paid to exist. "'Non-profit,' I suppose."

Instead of elaborating on his answer, he offered her an eerie smile. "Oh, but it's worth it. Trust me."

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

'I do not trust anyone,' Rose says unblinkingly, 'Apart from my brother and my sisters and Mummy and Tom. You are not my brother, my sisters, Tom, or Mummy. So I do not think it is worth it. So.'

[befouled.livejournal.com]

It was a staring contest, then. Pollution kept his eyes open, fixing the girl with that familiar blank and unsettling look. "So," he replied.

Her reasoning was as good as any, he supposed. Not many people thought as highly of what Pollution did (or, to be more precise, what he was) as himself.

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

Rose folds her arms. It's not a staring contest until she says it is, dammnit.

'I don't like you very much.'

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Pollution leaned in, taking the gesture as a not-so-subtle challenge.

"You wouldn't be the first."

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

'So you must get lonely, then, knowing nobody cares about you.'

It's truer than she knows.

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Oh, no. He wasn't going to back out of it now.

"If nobody cares," he said, "why did they invent the trash can or the recycling bin? Why do they put up no smoking signs?"

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

'Because nobody likes chewing gum on their shoes, everyone likes to think their drink can is being used for better things, and passive smoking is a killer,' Rose recites. 'But I meant YOU, not what you ARE.'

[befouled.livejournal.com]

Well, nobody liked him. But they cared about him, if only because they wanted to put an end to him. He would have voiced such an opinion, but before he could open his mouth, she just had to say something to catch him off guard. Pollution willed himself not to blink.

"But they are one and the same," he replied. "What I do is what I am. Simple."

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

Rose's eyes are watering, and she will need to blink first. If she does, she will blame it on something else.

'But that would make me just Artist,' she points out. 'And I am a Rose first. Artist has no gender, and I am a girl. So I think you are wrong.'

[befouled.livejournal.com]

For once, Pollution found himself exercising a bit of restraint. It was all he could do to keep from stirring up more dust.

"But that's different. Pollution is simply pollution. That's all."

He seemed unable to grasp what she was getting at. Aside from being one of the Four Horsemen-people, he was White. In the same way that Famine was Raven Sable, and War was Carmine Zuigiber. But as White, he hadn't forged an identity the way they had; he was unmemorable. Unremarkable.

Not that he noticed... or for that matter, cared.

Vote: Squib

[rosecasson.livejournal.com]

Blinking angrily, she jerks her head back.

'You're stupid and wretched [she pronounces it correctly, thanks to Indigo reading her Le Mort D'Arthur] and I am SQUIBBING you.'

Smarting with shame that she lost, she stomps away from Pollution, ready to go and draw him being fed to the sharks.

(I always felt bad for him in the book...)