Caritas, Thursday

[wrongkindofsith]

Whatever insanity had infected the island last week, seemed to have worn off, so Cara was anticipating a less damp shift. What she wasn't anticipating was that all the bottles in the various fridges would have vanished and been replaced with tray after tray of shot-glasses filled with blue jelly and shark gummies.

After glaring at Tino and receiving protestations that these weren't his handiwork, and a dubious taste-test to see if there was actually alcohol in them, Cara sighed and got out the specials board.

Special
Shark shots

[Open, no OCD.]

The Devil's Nest, Friday Evening

[allie-vamp.livejournal.com]

Tiny and the DJ were both in the DJ booth complaining about their sunburns.

Allie was cleaning behind the bar, as far as she could get from the scent of aloe.

Wonka's Candy Shoppe, Friday

[locointhecoco]

The little candy shop appeared to be desserted* for much of the morning. But then, around noon, a resounding crash echoed from the store room, and Pinkie came zipping out, covered in little blobs of candy goop, wearing a pair of safety goggles.

"THE GUMMY BEARS ARE RESTLESS!" she shrieked, unconcerned with the fact that there was no one there to hear her, and then she zipped back into the back room.

Then zipped out with a comically large bell, then zipped back in again. And zipped out one last time with a little "ring bell for service" sign, which she set next to the bell.

"GIDDY-UP!" she yelled, and reared back, circling her front hooves in the air, and dashed once more into the gummy breach.

[*I ain't even sorry. Open!]

Caritas, Friday, 7/10

[living_endless]

Didi was having a perfectly passable day at the bar, though not without a few Fandom diversions. There was the seaweed she kept picking out of her hair for no apparent reason, and the shark gummies swimming laps in the shots in the bar fridge ... oh, and the pile of sand on the karaoke stage. That was new.

She didn't remember the zombies wearing Hawaiian shirts before, either.

She was starting to get the feeling the whole bar wanted to be at the beach, and she couldn't blame it. She loaded up the margarita machine, asked the zombies to play a Beach Boys medley, and pretended she was close enough to smell the ocean.

[OOC: Open bar, no OCD!]