The docks, early Sunday morning

[superartie]

Sunday morning, the sun rose, as it is wont to do. It eased over the horizon, spreading it's glow over the town of Fandom, lighting the school, the duck pond, Caritas, and yes, the docks.

Were the sun a sentient being, it might have been surprised by the docks.

Because they weren't quite the same as they were when the sun had set the previous evening. Oh, the boat was there, as was the water, and the docks themselves.

But just next to the docks, sitting on the beach was a blue porta-john, appearing, seemingly, from nowhere.

It was the porta-home of one of the newest residents of Fandom: Artie, the strongest man . . . in the world!

[ooc: feel free to stop by and gawk/welcome Artie/attempt to use the porta-home for what it appears to be!]

Comments

[bluth-illusions.livejournal.com]

GOB stepped out onto the deck of his yacht and took a look around when he saw a blue box not far away. "What the hell?" he asked himself.

"Great. Now people are going to be walking past to use the bathroom. I hate this town. Stupid hookers. And mounties. And porta-johns."

[superartie]

The door to the porta-home opened, and out stepped a man in red pants, a red and blue striped shirt, and thick rimmed black glasses.

He struck a ludicrous muscle man pose and laughed.

"Mwuhahaha!" He turned, and seemed to notice GOB for the first time. "Greetings, citizen of Fandom! It's a gloriously pipe morning, isn't it?"

[bluth-illusions.livejournal.com]

"Yeah. Very 'pipe'," GOB said. He was going to get an early start on drinking today. He just knew it.

[superartie]

Artie struck another pose. And another pose. And another.

He seemed quite happy about these poses as he bounced about on the beach.