- Joined
- Apr 4, 2020
- Messages
- 59
- Points
- 8
Character Name:
Larry February, The Plumber
And The Maintenance Guy, Too.
I Agree
Yes
Age
35 years old. Born January 31, 1978, at 11:59 p.m.
Personality
Gentle feller. Rather quiet. Perhaps he's the timid type? At first glance, it certainly seems possible. After all: What’s it been--thirty-five years? Thirty-five years without a single physical altercation, as a residential community maintenance worker, is rare indeed.
On the Surface
Now, Larry has had his run-ins with rough crowds in his day-- don’t get me wrong. He was an awkwardly shaped adolescent, attracting a fair share of aggression as he grew up. And, in his 20s, the tradesperson lifestyle surrounded him--a la routine residential visits, maintenance in the dead of night, and halls of broken appliances scattered by drunken college students. But Larry February? The Plumber? He is a mind-bending master of de-escalation. But not with words. No, no, no.
It's more through...grunts...really.
It's those disregarding, half-mast eyes—lazily sliding sideways to look at you, just for a second, in base acknowledgement on technicality alone--like you’re a faucet someone has left running. Just a split-second’s worth of the side of his face; one of his eyes, and the bridge of his nose. And then! He turns away.
He goes back. Back to work.
So, if anyone ever has beef with Larry the Plumber? Well, their shoulders do indeed deflate after he does that: heated egos suddenly evaporate in the emotional vacuum. More than once, a would-be foe in the form of a maintenance call apartment resident (drunk off their gourd, in most cases) would snap their fingers in front of Larry’s face. Or--or maybe they punch a wall! Or a microwave door (!)--making one of those sudden, sharp snapping-noises! The ones that'd startle anyone whose back is turned, really--such as Larry in this scenario.
But Larry? His response?
Honest to god: It's next to nothing! Sans a stiff, slow, shrug and an airy, exhaled, grunt—parallel parked alongside this very same nothing with the surgical precision of Spring-Heeled Jack playing boxcar hopscotch.
A shrug.
And a grunt.
“Mhuh.”
Some have formed an odd, subdued admiration for such brevity as the soul of wit. Like--okay. More than once? The very same problematic passerby types, mentioned above—ever-keen on harassing maintenance workers— have even become friendly with the guy out of nowhere! And—and get this! Before long? Some even offer to buy the guy lunch. Or even a beer! All because he--
Because he "Mhuh!"
And because he's a hard worker.
Dawn 'til dusk: The 'Ole Grind.
Replacing lightbulbs.
Rolling wallpaper.
Fixing faucets.
Faucet leaks.
Community man.
Through and through.
And commune he does. If one were to sit with Larry for a chat (he does this, sometimes: spontaneously sits before talking) they'd find the yielded conversations are ever-lighthearted! (These chats are so, so shallow. [They are so, so just about the latest Illini Football game.]) But—it’s weird. No one ever seems to mind wading in the two-inch deep infinity pool , you know? Who doesn’t like to chill, now and again, with zero strings attached? Daily slog, daily slog, daily slog. Larry: he is such a presence to commune with--to sway, half-aware acquaintance at his side, to and fro, to and fro, in the afternoon breeze--with but a single, monosyllabic affirmation that both parties are, in fact, not unconscious:
“Mhuh.”
Beneath the Waves
In some cases--albeit incredibly rare--Larry may even reveal another side to himself. Over the years, some have theorized that The Plumber has simply mastered the art of tactically planned, faux-apathy and fake aloofness--only to utter several sentences, one day, and completely hypnotize whomever he happens to be talking (sitting) with. Perhaps he is Machiavellian. Or...perhaps not.
But! Here. This is the kind of real shit Larry might drop on you, one day, seemingly on a whim--shattering the preconceived, balsa wood framework splinting together your wiggly waggly understanding of the universe around you. So, just imagine this: You're sitting at Subway, right? Having lunch with Larry. Talking about college football, right? And Larry, out of nowhere, says something like, "Mhm. Fighting Illini."
And then: "Red and yellow. Mhmm."
So you're goddamn right you'll give yourself whiplash as you look up from your sandwich--hearing him talk like that!
“Used to be red and iodoform--though," he'll add.
"Was in name only--though," he'll say.
Like!?!? You can't just NOT ask Larry why it was ‘iodoform—in name only,' now. You can't just unhear something like that--juxtaposed with yellow like it can still be a thing after this!
And Larry? He'll say:
"Hmmm. . ."
And then:
"That's for blood, yeah. That red."
Several seconds later:
He'll say, "Iodoform."
"That's for iodine."
And, now, you can’t NOT BE LIKE “IODINE?!”
Physical Appearance
Larry is six feet tall. Even. Down to the one-sixteenth.
Larry weighs 218 pounds. Even. Down to the ounce.
Larry? Short, yellowish hair. No, no. Not blonde. Pastel yellow. Think: Trump colored--but natural. No hydrogen peroxide.
Larry has a slightly rotund face. The face is constantly...pinkish. Kind of like a constant sunburn.
He spends five hours, per day, outside.
But his skin--it just won't tan.
Simply salmon skin.
Irish blood, ever-attempting to escape.
Love handles, but you wouldn't know it.
To most, Larry February would appear muscular.
On the day-to-day. The passing night-shift to night-shifts.
But Larry--he isn't very muscular.
Could throw his weight around, if so inclined.
But he doesn’t do this.
Larry February: He reclines.
Pigskin work gloves by day: $6.69
Baby blue nitrile gloves by night: $6.62
Electric-blue hard hat, ever at his side:
$6.29, ULINE brand.
Because every Home Depot has them. Every, every time.
“Works it' works,” Larry would say, if asked.
[Larry February]: *shrugs*
Mechanical Occupation
If we’re using Syd’s mod (https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=91331714)
Then it’s gotta be. . .
Plumber
(If this includes the Handy trait, of course. Larry has two.)
But.
If we’re using vanilla professions?
Then it’s gotta be. . .
Construction Worker
In-Character Occupation
Maintenance Worker / Construction Worker / Plumber
His primary services, around the school, would most likely be janitorial. Plumbing, minor dorm repairs, repainting, refinishing, clean-ups, and the like. He does perform occasional university structure work (brickwork, siding repair, balcony work, etc.) But! He’s a licensed plumber by trade—having spent five years as both an independent contractor and a business associate. He got to cleanin drains, unclog pipes, and repair sewer lines with high-grade equipment! And he even got to. . .
He got to use. . .!
Larry got to use . . .!
(!!!!!!!)
THE HYDROSCRUB® !!!
THE HYDROSCRUB® is vastly superior to alternative clog removal jets. THE HYDROSCRUB® is a one-touch-and-go solution for dirty drains and the TOUGHEST of clogs. THE HYDROSCRUB® utilizes innovative water volumizing technology to yield OPTIMAL RESULTS—ensuring oil buildup, mineral deposits, hair, soap scum, and other obstructive debris are removed with a feathery touch and laser-like precision.
PRECISION BACKED BY THE POWER OF A PROVERBIAL QUASAR, THAT IS. THE HYDROSCRUB® BLASTS THROUGH ULTRAVIOLET MOSAICS WITH SUCH VORACITY, SUCH GRACE, THAT SPECTRUMS PHYSICS IS REDUCED TO THE RELEVANCY OF A MUTEMATH SETLIST OPENING FOR MUSE’S BLACK HOLES AND REVELATIONS. THE HYDROSCRUB® is comprised of a high-pressure hose, industrial nozzle, and nigh indestructible water tank. It creates enough self-sustaining pressure to HAUL ITSELF THROUGH THE FUCKING PIPES WHILE CLEANING DRAINS, PROPELLED BY THREE THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS PER SQUARE INCH OF WATER.
TORRENTS. TORRENTS JETTISONED AS AN ALL-ENCOMPASSING, UNSTOPPABLE HYDROPUMP TEMPEST—BLASTING DEBRIS DOWN THE DRAIN, INTO THE SEWER, PAST PURGATORIUM, BEYOND THE DEADLIGHTS, AND INTO THE THROAT OF HELL LIKE A RICOLA® COUGH DROP STEEPED IN MOLTEN TEFLON.
HYDROSCRUB®
Larry is still capable in other maintenance areas, of course. More or less, he has general experience in the following areas—while having no particular specializations in any of them: Scaffolding maintenance , window maintenance, drywall maintenance, siding maintenance, and tile maintenance. He’s decent with minor electrical maintenance, too: replacing fixtures, bulbs, bad wiring, etc. Nothing wild—just basic stuff. He also does minor landscaping maintenance: mowing, tree trimming, fertilization, aeration, stump removal, and—of course—SPRINKLER MAINTENANCE, YES.
Biography
Larry was born in Chicago. Apprenticed from ages 19 to 23. Completed required trade school work at 24, passed the IDPH Application for Examination in Illinois at 25. High school dropout, but because of family's fiscal struggles. Very disconnected family, as it was. No aunts or uncles. No siblings. Both parents passed away in his early 20s. Last of his bloodline--no attempts to secure the throne. Romantic career: ten girlfriends during his 20s; one per year for five years, then five per year for one year--broke up with all of them, then retired.
Pretty well-traveled--has near-mystical levels of luck. Briefly did HVAC service calls for Ariana Grande's house in Florida. Accidentally helped a local struggling entrepreneur start up a small pool cleaning business in the process. Pool business exploded, aforementioned entrepreneur tried to buy Larry a Trinity Tri-Deck yacht in 2005. Larry politely refused, but the man still contacts him, every spring, to this day--asking him to please, please, just head down to Boca for a day trip. Take the Trinity out. Just once. Just a day trip. But Larry refuses. Always refuses. The aforementioned man's pool cleaning business still services the Grande residence's mega-pool to this day as well. Larry suspects he has had fiscal complications in recent years, however.
Larry couldn't have used the yacht, anyway, even if he wanted to: Despite having moved to Kentucky in June, 2005, to live a quiet life as a plumber, he was not allowed to leave the city of Los Angeles between April 12, 2005, and December 31, 2007. Nobody really knows why, though. But, this one time, one of Larry's long-distance friends from Maryland, allegedly, got the scoop. It wasn't that Larry 'couldn't legally leave' L.A. during these years. He just wasn't allowed to. When asked why he wasn't allowed to, Larry allegedly gave no discernable answer. His roundaboutness wasn't unlike him, however, his friend would go on to say. See, ever since Larry joined some startup programming company in 2004, he'd become much more roundabout in general: The stresses of coding were most likely getting to him--especially because Larry didn't know how to code.
His friend lost touch with him sometime during 2006, though, when Larry was in L.A. And, well, there's no other information about that period of Larry's life at all! Very odd. His Maryland friend did suggest, however, that Larry's Kentucky mortgage (opened in May, 2005), had apparently been paid for the entire time! The entrepreneur from Florida, perhaps? Or, come to think of it, Larry February did indeed make a number of new friends in L.A. They were all British, too. As Larry's friend put it: "Most British people are rich--so that makes sense."
Larry eventually made it to Kentucky, settling in as a maintenance technician and construction worker at Bellarmine in January, 2008. He eventually something-something moved up in faculty-something-something ranks so he could explain why he's the school's only maintenance technician, janitor, plumber, and construction worker, at times, to people.
And that's that! Larry February has taken a few vacations, and such, during his time at Bellarmine, but those are stories for another time.
Now, this said:
No one really knows why Larry February has a picture of himself shaking hands with Jeffrey Skoll while standing next to Timothy Schmit, in his wallet. And no one really knows why they're wearing tuxedos on Hollywood Boulevard, either, as it's an odd place for a black-tie New Year's Eve party. But--suppose it's just one of those things. One of life's many tops-turvy roads--crisscrossed lines, all the way.
And that's all anyone can say, at the end of the day, to sum things up:
Nobody ever really knows. You know?
And they never will.
Larry February, The Plumber
And The Maintenance Guy, Too.
I Agree
Yes
Age
35 years old. Born January 31, 1978, at 11:59 p.m.
Personality
Gentle feller. Rather quiet. Perhaps he's the timid type? At first glance, it certainly seems possible. After all: What’s it been--thirty-five years? Thirty-five years without a single physical altercation, as a residential community maintenance worker, is rare indeed.
On the Surface
Now, Larry has had his run-ins with rough crowds in his day-- don’t get me wrong. He was an awkwardly shaped adolescent, attracting a fair share of aggression as he grew up. And, in his 20s, the tradesperson lifestyle surrounded him--a la routine residential visits, maintenance in the dead of night, and halls of broken appliances scattered by drunken college students. But Larry February? The Plumber? He is a mind-bending master of de-escalation. But not with words. No, no, no.
It's more through...grunts...really.
It's those disregarding, half-mast eyes—lazily sliding sideways to look at you, just for a second, in base acknowledgement on technicality alone--like you’re a faucet someone has left running. Just a split-second’s worth of the side of his face; one of his eyes, and the bridge of his nose. And then! He turns away.
He goes back. Back to work.
So, if anyone ever has beef with Larry the Plumber? Well, their shoulders do indeed deflate after he does that: heated egos suddenly evaporate in the emotional vacuum. More than once, a would-be foe in the form of a maintenance call apartment resident (drunk off their gourd, in most cases) would snap their fingers in front of Larry’s face. Or--or maybe they punch a wall! Or a microwave door (!)--making one of those sudden, sharp snapping-noises! The ones that'd startle anyone whose back is turned, really--such as Larry in this scenario.
But Larry? His response?
Honest to god: It's next to nothing! Sans a stiff, slow, shrug and an airy, exhaled, grunt—parallel parked alongside this very same nothing with the surgical precision of Spring-Heeled Jack playing boxcar hopscotch.
A shrug.
And a grunt.
“Mhuh.”
Some have formed an odd, subdued admiration for such brevity as the soul of wit. Like--okay. More than once? The very same problematic passerby types, mentioned above—ever-keen on harassing maintenance workers— have even become friendly with the guy out of nowhere! And—and get this! Before long? Some even offer to buy the guy lunch. Or even a beer! All because he--
Because he "Mhuh!"
And because he's a hard worker.
Dawn 'til dusk: The 'Ole Grind.
Replacing lightbulbs.
Rolling wallpaper.
Fixing faucets.
Faucet leaks.
Community man.
Through and through.
And commune he does. If one were to sit with Larry for a chat (he does this, sometimes: spontaneously sits before talking) they'd find the yielded conversations are ever-lighthearted! (These chats are so, so shallow. [They are so, so just about the latest Illini Football game.]) But—it’s weird. No one ever seems to mind wading in the two-inch deep infinity pool , you know? Who doesn’t like to chill, now and again, with zero strings attached? Daily slog, daily slog, daily slog. Larry: he is such a presence to commune with--to sway, half-aware acquaintance at his side, to and fro, to and fro, in the afternoon breeze--with but a single, monosyllabic affirmation that both parties are, in fact, not unconscious:
“Mhuh.”
Beneath the Waves
In some cases--albeit incredibly rare--Larry may even reveal another side to himself. Over the years, some have theorized that The Plumber has simply mastered the art of tactically planned, faux-apathy and fake aloofness--only to utter several sentences, one day, and completely hypnotize whomever he happens to be talking (sitting) with. Perhaps he is Machiavellian. Or...perhaps not.
But! Here. This is the kind of real shit Larry might drop on you, one day, seemingly on a whim--shattering the preconceived, balsa wood framework splinting together your wiggly waggly understanding of the universe around you. So, just imagine this: You're sitting at Subway, right? Having lunch with Larry. Talking about college football, right? And Larry, out of nowhere, says something like, "Mhm. Fighting Illini."
And then: "Red and yellow. Mhmm."
So you're goddamn right you'll give yourself whiplash as you look up from your sandwich--hearing him talk like that!
“Used to be red and iodoform--though," he'll add.
"Was in name only--though," he'll say.
Like!?!? You can't just NOT ask Larry why it was ‘iodoform—in name only,' now. You can't just unhear something like that--juxtaposed with yellow like it can still be a thing after this!
And Larry? He'll say:
"Hmmm. . ."
And then:
"That's for blood, yeah. That red."
Several seconds later:
He'll say, "Iodoform."
"That's for iodine."
And, now, you can’t NOT BE LIKE “IODINE?!”
Physical Appearance
Larry is six feet tall. Even. Down to the one-sixteenth.
Larry weighs 218 pounds. Even. Down to the ounce.
Larry? Short, yellowish hair. No, no. Not blonde. Pastel yellow. Think: Trump colored--but natural. No hydrogen peroxide.
Larry has a slightly rotund face. The face is constantly...pinkish. Kind of like a constant sunburn.
He spends five hours, per day, outside.
But his skin--it just won't tan.
Simply salmon skin.
Irish blood, ever-attempting to escape.
Love handles, but you wouldn't know it.
To most, Larry February would appear muscular.
On the day-to-day. The passing night-shift to night-shifts.
But Larry--he isn't very muscular.
Could throw his weight around, if so inclined.
But he doesn’t do this.
Larry February: He reclines.
Pigskin work gloves by day: $6.69
Baby blue nitrile gloves by night: $6.62
Electric-blue hard hat, ever at his side:
$6.29, ULINE brand.
Because every Home Depot has them. Every, every time.
“Works it' works,” Larry would say, if asked.
[Larry February]: *shrugs*
Mechanical Occupation
If we’re using Syd’s mod (https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=91331714)
Then it’s gotta be. . .
Plumber
(If this includes the Handy trait, of course. Larry has two.)
But.
If we’re using vanilla professions?
Then it’s gotta be. . .
Construction Worker
In-Character Occupation
Maintenance Worker / Construction Worker / Plumber
His primary services, around the school, would most likely be janitorial. Plumbing, minor dorm repairs, repainting, refinishing, clean-ups, and the like. He does perform occasional university structure work (brickwork, siding repair, balcony work, etc.) But! He’s a licensed plumber by trade—having spent five years as both an independent contractor and a business associate. He got to cleanin drains, unclog pipes, and repair sewer lines with high-grade equipment! And he even got to. . .
He got to use. . .!
Larry got to use . . .!
(!!!!!!!)
THE HYDROSCRUB® !!!
THE HYDROSCRUB® is vastly superior to alternative clog removal jets. THE HYDROSCRUB® is a one-touch-and-go solution for dirty drains and the TOUGHEST of clogs. THE HYDROSCRUB® utilizes innovative water volumizing technology to yield OPTIMAL RESULTS—ensuring oil buildup, mineral deposits, hair, soap scum, and other obstructive debris are removed with a feathery touch and laser-like precision.
PRECISION BACKED BY THE POWER OF A PROVERBIAL QUASAR, THAT IS. THE HYDROSCRUB® BLASTS THROUGH ULTRAVIOLET MOSAICS WITH SUCH VORACITY, SUCH GRACE, THAT SPECTRUMS PHYSICS IS REDUCED TO THE RELEVANCY OF A MUTEMATH SETLIST OPENING FOR MUSE’S BLACK HOLES AND REVELATIONS. THE HYDROSCRUB® is comprised of a high-pressure hose, industrial nozzle, and nigh indestructible water tank. It creates enough self-sustaining pressure to HAUL ITSELF THROUGH THE FUCKING PIPES WHILE CLEANING DRAINS, PROPELLED BY THREE THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS PER SQUARE INCH OF WATER.
TORRENTS. TORRENTS JETTISONED AS AN ALL-ENCOMPASSING, UNSTOPPABLE HYDROPUMP TEMPEST—BLASTING DEBRIS DOWN THE DRAIN, INTO THE SEWER, PAST PURGATORIUM, BEYOND THE DEADLIGHTS, AND INTO THE THROAT OF HELL LIKE A RICOLA® COUGH DROP STEEPED IN MOLTEN TEFLON.
HYDROSCRUB®
Larry is still capable in other maintenance areas, of course. More or less, he has general experience in the following areas—while having no particular specializations in any of them: Scaffolding maintenance , window maintenance, drywall maintenance, siding maintenance, and tile maintenance. He’s decent with minor electrical maintenance, too: replacing fixtures, bulbs, bad wiring, etc. Nothing wild—just basic stuff. He also does minor landscaping maintenance: mowing, tree trimming, fertilization, aeration, stump removal, and—of course—SPRINKLER MAINTENANCE, YES.
Biography
Larry was born in Chicago. Apprenticed from ages 19 to 23. Completed required trade school work at 24, passed the IDPH Application for Examination in Illinois at 25. High school dropout, but because of family's fiscal struggles. Very disconnected family, as it was. No aunts or uncles. No siblings. Both parents passed away in his early 20s. Last of his bloodline--no attempts to secure the throne. Romantic career: ten girlfriends during his 20s; one per year for five years, then five per year for one year--broke up with all of them, then retired.
Pretty well-traveled--has near-mystical levels of luck. Briefly did HVAC service calls for Ariana Grande's house in Florida. Accidentally helped a local struggling entrepreneur start up a small pool cleaning business in the process. Pool business exploded, aforementioned entrepreneur tried to buy Larry a Trinity Tri-Deck yacht in 2005. Larry politely refused, but the man still contacts him, every spring, to this day--asking him to please, please, just head down to Boca for a day trip. Take the Trinity out. Just once. Just a day trip. But Larry refuses. Always refuses. The aforementioned man's pool cleaning business still services the Grande residence's mega-pool to this day as well. Larry suspects he has had fiscal complications in recent years, however.
Larry couldn't have used the yacht, anyway, even if he wanted to: Despite having moved to Kentucky in June, 2005, to live a quiet life as a plumber, he was not allowed to leave the city of Los Angeles between April 12, 2005, and December 31, 2007. Nobody really knows why, though. But, this one time, one of Larry's long-distance friends from Maryland, allegedly, got the scoop. It wasn't that Larry 'couldn't legally leave' L.A. during these years. He just wasn't allowed to. When asked why he wasn't allowed to, Larry allegedly gave no discernable answer. His roundaboutness wasn't unlike him, however, his friend would go on to say. See, ever since Larry joined some startup programming company in 2004, he'd become much more roundabout in general: The stresses of coding were most likely getting to him--especially because Larry didn't know how to code.
His friend lost touch with him sometime during 2006, though, when Larry was in L.A. And, well, there's no other information about that period of Larry's life at all! Very odd. His Maryland friend did suggest, however, that Larry's Kentucky mortgage (opened in May, 2005), had apparently been paid for the entire time! The entrepreneur from Florida, perhaps? Or, come to think of it, Larry February did indeed make a number of new friends in L.A. They were all British, too. As Larry's friend put it: "Most British people are rich--so that makes sense."
Larry eventually made it to Kentucky, settling in as a maintenance technician and construction worker at Bellarmine in January, 2008. He eventually something-something moved up in faculty-something-something ranks so he could explain why he's the school's only maintenance technician, janitor, plumber, and construction worker, at times, to people.
And that's that! Larry February has taken a few vacations, and such, during his time at Bellarmine, but those are stories for another time.
Now, this said:
No one really knows why Larry February has a picture of himself shaking hands with Jeffrey Skoll while standing next to Timothy Schmit, in his wallet. And no one really knows why they're wearing tuxedos on Hollywood Boulevard, either, as it's an odd place for a black-tie New Year's Eve party. But--suppose it's just one of those things. One of life's many tops-turvy roads--crisscrossed lines, all the way.
And that's all anyone can say, at the end of the day, to sum things up:
Nobody ever really knows. You know?
And they never will.
Last edited:
