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 The United States of America // Alfred F. Jones

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PostSubject: The United States of America // Alfred F. Jones   Sat Dec 03, 2011 5:47 am

Human Name: Alfred F. Jones

Country's Name: The United States of America

    All right, let’s get the warnings out of the way, shall we? Alfred is loud and, no, not the kind of loud that can be drowned out by covering one’s ears. He has a penchant for constant chatter, sometimes about the most inane things, and his tendency to speak at an indecently high volume can cause many a headache. Yet while his talkative personality can be annoying, one must give him credit for the confidence with which he speaks.

    It is that confidence of his that allows Alfred to bring up his opinions, no matter how controversial they may seem, again and again before his peers. Sure, they may laugh at some of his more outrageous suggestions. However, being laughed at has never really stopped him from doing something he wants or from voicing his thoughts. He knows what he believes in, knows what he wants, and he sticks to that regardless of others’ opinions.

    Of course, given just how long he can go on about his ideas, it has been speculated that Alfred loves to hear himself talk. These speculations are entirely true. What can he say? He’s got a great voice. People should be happy that he decides to bless their eardrums with his dulcet tones. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being self-confident and self-assured of himself, even if Alfred’s confidence sometimes borders on outright narcissism.

    His conceit, however, can get him in trouble. Since Alfred is not a bit ashamed to say whatever comes to his mind, and firmly believes that his opinions are the best ones out there, he has many ‘open mouth, insert foot’ moments. He can make callous remarks, trivialize other people’s thoughts, experiences, or opinions, and otherwise say things that others find offensive or inappropriate for a situation.

    It is not that Alfred cannot read a situation, but rather that he chooses not to. There are times when his oblivious nature is genuine, and other times when he uses it as a shield between himself and the rest of the world. If he acts like he doesn’t read the tension in the room then he doesn’t have to acknowledge it, especially if it’s a tension he caused. His mistakes, too, can be avoided by playing dumb.

    That isn’t to say that Alfred is a bad person just because he can be insensitive to others. In fact, at his core, he has a good heart. He tries to look out for others, even if that means sticking his nose into business that doesn’t concern him, and is quick to defend family or a close friend from perceived slights. In the end, he has good intentions. What Alfred sometimes fails in is the execution of those intentions.

    Then again, execution of anything, be it his intentions or his brilliant schemes, has always been one of his short comings. Alfred loves to plan grand things, but rarely comes out with anything to show for it. Some say he is a man of talk rather than one of action. In truth, he’s just someone so caught up in chasing his dreams and looking for the next best thing that he sometimes loses track of what’s going on in the now.

    Alfred is a dreamer blessed with a nearly endless amount of energy and an enthusiasm for life. Even when sick or tired, he pushes himself to be on the move doing something. Yet in spite of this, he often gives the impression of being lazy or having a poor work ethic. This is because Alfred likes to procrastinate and, when he finally does buckle down to tackle a task, it usually comes to him with an easiness that makes others envious.

    Perhaps that is part of the reason why he struggles with making friends. Though Alfred is often friendly, his tendency to intrude in others’ affairs and his carefree, lackadaisical attitude (along with quite a few of his quirks), can grate on the nerves of those around him. Yet in spite of this, deep down Alfred does crave the acceptance and approval of those around him, especially the ones he most admires.

    It is there that one finds a crack in Alfred’s otherwise confident personality. He may act the contrary, but behind his loud personality Alfred grapples with trying to connect to people. He is always aware that he being watched and judged, and consequently can suffer moments of self-doubt. Is what he doing really the right thing? Can he ever achieve the respect of his peers? Can he be liked and still be true to himself?

    To be honest, Alfred doesn’t know the answers to such questions. He does his best to lead those around him, take care of some of their affairs, and still look after himself. However, in doing so he can make unpopular decisions he sees as being for the best or ‘greater good’ and create enemies. Even when he doesn’t manage that, Alfred’s tendency to seek the praise of those around him only serves to put them off and alienate himself further.

    It is no surprise, then, that sometimes Alfred is burdened with feelings of loneliness. While those times may be strong, they are few and far between. For the most part, Alfred remains true to his optimistic nature and even when he feels down he knows there will be brighter, happier moments ahead of them. As a result of such a belief, Alfred doesn’t just survive the present. He looks forward, plans for, and builds toward a better future.
Roleplay Sample:
    ‘Hey, Mattie,’ Alfred’s fingers punched the words out on the cell phone’s keyboard, his eyes closed as he imagined his brother making that small, disgruntled face of his at the nickname. ‘Remember that time we were supposed to go to one of those hockey games of yours, and I never showed up?’

    In his head, he could hear Matt sigh. ‘Al, you never show up to half the things we have planned together.’

    ‘Yeah, but, this time! This time you called me at my house, wanted to know what I was doing and if I was coming or not. Sounded pretty fussy, too, now that I think about it.’

    ‘You left me standing in front of the stadium in the freezing rain waiting for you to show up. I missed the game.’ In Alfred’s mind, Matt’s voice made the entire event sound just as bad as missing the Super Bowl, and over a year after the fact he wondered just how important that game had been to him.

    He made a face at the box spring underneath the bed. ‘Hey, don’t blame me for that! You should have just gone in once it started instead of—’

    With a soft, disgruntled sound, he tapped his thumb on the backspace key until he felt sure that the message in its entirety was gone, then stretched his legs out a bit. His fingers tapped the keys in thought, not hard enough to create words but hard enough that the letters he touched became ingrained in his mind.

    ‘Look, I…’

    He took a deep inhale, held it as his head swam with the odors of must, human rot and decay, blood, and his own sweat. He’d have to find a place to shower soon if he wanted to be able to keep living with himself. End of the world or not, there was only so much B.O. a guy could get away with. He let out his breath in a slow, steady exhale. Maybe the apartment complex next door had running water. He’d have to lock the bathroom door, of course, and make sure that he had an emergency escape route, but…

    In his mind, he kept reminding himself that he’d weathered wars worse than this.

    ‘Matt,’ his fingers typed, only to pause. After a moment, he deleted the name and mouthed ‘Matthew’ as he spelled it out on the keyboard. That’s the name his brother preferred to go by, wasn’t it? Matthew. Not Mattie or Matt or ‘Who are you agai—ow, Mattie, I was only joking, jeeze!’

    Alfred wrapped the memories as they came to him around his heart like a blanket and continued.

    ‘Matthew, I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I missed all of those games you wanted to go to, I’m sorry for all those times I ignored your calls or said I was sick or working when I really was just playing video games. And… I’m really sorry for that time I missed your birthday, because that was a lousy move on my part, and… Yeah. Don’t really blame you for decking me when I came to pick you up for my birthday.’

    Something shuffled down the hall. He heard it as it dragged its feet over the carpeted floor just by the closed bedroom door, and stopped with a thud against the thin wood to let out horrible retching sound. Seemed the occupant of Room 302 hadn’t been missing at all. Alfred waited for a moment, one of his hands leaving the cell phone to creep toward the handgun he had strapped to his thigh. It sounded as though there was only one thing—not person, his mind argued, not anymore—out there. If he had to, he could get a shot in from beneath the bed, then roll out and finish it off with a headshot.

    The door shook with another thud, then stilled. He braced himself for the moment when that door would fly open and one of the undead would stumble through, prepared himself, even, for the quick draw. Thanks to the bed, he had some coverage; he wouldn’t even be seen until he had already taken the zombie out. All he had to do was twist his body like so, and… After a final shudder, the noise at the door fell silent and, if he held his breath, Alfred could hear the footsteps drag back toward the living room. He was safe, for now.

    He fell back on his shoulders and let out a small sigh of relief, his grip on the cell phone tight. That had been a close one. Sure, he’d have to face the zombie eventually if he wanted to get out of the apartment complex anytime soon, but… He had been fighting off the undead all day, and this wasn’t a video game. He couldn’t just guzzle down a bottle of medicine and keep going forward like an unstoppable killing machine. At some point, he had to rest and since daylight was approaching and visibility would be up—for him and them—it made sense to do it now.

    Almost as though the mere thought of sleep reminded him of just how tired he really was, Alfred found himself biting back a yawn as he loosened his grip on the phone. He’d be needing to get to sleep soon, once the first beams of sunlight stretched across the floor from the window. This time, he did yawn at the thought before he stretched and shifted to get himself comfortable. He propped his hands up, with the cell phone clutched between them, on his chest, and tilted his head back to stare at the box spring of the bed again.

    His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as the words he had typed into the phone marched across the back of his eyelids.

    ‘Matthew, I…’ The words trailed off in his head, and his fingertips hovered over the keys. He struggled with all the things he wanted to say, all the regrets he wanted to voice—everything, really, that had surged up in him when he first found the cell phone discarded on the sidewalk outside. So many things came to his mind, none of which he could put a voice to.

    He heard his brother sigh in that soft way of his before he would reach out and touch Alfred’s shoulder. ‘Go on,’ he encouraged.

    ‘Matthew, I…’ Alfred licked his lips, and mouthed the words as he typed them out with a slow, mechanical precision. ‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you when the world fell apart. I hope you’re okay.’

    The Matthew voice in his head didn’t say anything.

    Alfred let out a sigh and dropped the cell phone over his heart. The joints in his fingers, especially his thumbs, felt stiff and almost numb from how long he had clung to the cell phone. Just how many messages had he typed? How much of his stress and worry and fear—and in the back of his mind, he could admit to himself that he was afraid of just what the world had become—had he pressed into those individual keys? He tried to think of an answer, but all his mind could come up with were all the things he still had left to say.

    His jaw popped when he yawned again. He really needed to be getting to sleep, and yet… Alfred found himself picking up the cell phone again and typing away at the keyboard.

    ‘Yo, Artie! Have I ever told you this pick-up line I heard that actually mentions McDonald’s? I learned it from this guy who was trying to pickup chicks at the grocery store one day, and…’ In his mind, Arthur’s eyebrows bristled in annoyance as he continued typing and twin spots of red started darkening his cheeks until he looked ready to explode. Alfred gave the bed above him a lopsided grin.

    ‘I'll have it my way and you'll be loving it!’ He finished with a small, amused sound—not a snort, heroes didn’t snort, and ‘honestly, Alfred, must you try to sound so much like a barn animal?’

    Alfred closed his eyes to the familiar, almost soothing sound of Arthur scolding him for his ‘inappropriate, tasteless humor’ and cradled the cell phone in his hands as he typed back a few counter jabs just to cause those eyebrows to bristle again.

    ‘You know, you might want to look out, I think those caterpillars on your face are becoming—‘

    ‘Those…?’ Arthur spluttered in outrage. ‘You—!’

    Something warm hit Alfred’s face, but he didn’t have to open his eyes to know that it was sunlight spilling across the floor and reflecting off the blank, dead screen of the cell phone in his hands.

    He gave the bed a dopey grin. ‘I what, Artie?’

Anything Else?: Sorry I wasn't very active as Ukraine, but I promise to try my best this time around.

MSN Account: VikingConqueror [at] msn [dot] com
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Kiku Honda


Posts : 768
Join date : 2011-02-01
Age : 29
Location : Composing poetry among the cherry blossoms.

PostSubject: Re: The United States of America // Alfred F. Jones   Mon Dec 05, 2011 11:53 pm

My apologies for the delay in this! Just wanted to say that you've been accepted as our lovely Alfred F. Jones~! *throws confetti*

Make sure you change your profile pic (though we love Ukraine definitely), post your MSN in the New MSN chat post, and start workin' on those profiles~
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