Devil's Nest, Monday, 3/18

[bitten_notshy]

There was still no rum on the island, which meant Jack had to cross a squirrel picket line to make it into the club today. It also meant the DJ was playing only sad reggae music, and Tiny was paging sorrowfully through a handbook of tropical drinks.

Jack ignored it all and settled in with a pile of paperwork. He didn't even like rum, but he was hoping it would come back soon. Some of the squirrels with signs were starting to look unkempt and feral, and the teal deer who kept peeking in the club windows were creepy.

[OOC: Open club, no OCD.]

Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Monday

[gdiumbrella.livejournal.com]

After having a (in Alice terms) good string of mildly scarring nightmares, Alice had wound up with a pretty detailed, pretty extensive one that had left her awake just a mere couple of hours after she had made sure to drink everything that had turned green in her stash.

So excuse her if she's not moving much behind the counter. She's very much awake though.

[ OCD-free! ]

Stark Industries [Monday afternoon]

[makemyownway.livejournal.com]

After not killing all the fake people in a jet aircraft during Flight class (always a good start?), Cade was ready to be a pleasant and helpful employee to anyone coming into the shop!

Ahahahaha not really.

But he was there and probably wouldn't make you cry?

Outside the radio station- Monday evening

[fates_jaye]

The picket line had ended for the night, but the squirrels were still outside, sitting on the ground around what looked to be a very small trash barrel that they were burning for heat. A couple had even set up small tents outside (those would be the ones who'd made their own "Occupy WTFH" signs, natch), and a few of them had begun doing something that sounded a bit like singing protest songs in Squirrel.

Just another long night here on the picket line.


[Idek. Open for reaction or interaction!]

Town Hall, Monday Afternoon

[nomeatvirgin.livejournal.com]

"Hello," Ron said to the government stooge manning the front desk, "I ran across a gentleman in the woods who left me some papers that upon further examination appear to belong to your office. I will be leaving your town today, and so I wish to return them."

The government stooge took the papers without another word and looked them over. Then looked Ron over. Then looked the papers over again. Ron turned around to go, since he had not come here to deal with bureaucracy.

"The man who gave these to you," the stooge said, "was he tall and made out of metal?"

Ron paused. "Yes," he said, "He looked like a decent sort. Now, if you don't mind--"

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave yet," the stooge said respectfully. "You appear to be our new mayor."

Ron turned around. "...Excuse me?"

"You're our new mayor," the stooge repeated. "It says so both on this form and in our files. Mister Ron Swanson. Former director of the Department of Parks and Recreation of Pawnee, Illinois."

Ron started giggling. "Mayor?" he said. "Mayor." Hee hee hee hee hee. "Mayor."

"He said my first duty would be to point you to our collection of classified files on the town's populace, so that you can prepare yourself properly--"

Ron stopped giggling.

"Point me to these files," he said, barging past the stooge. "And the shredder!"

[[ open! but slow. because face ow. ]]