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Caritas- Saturday

The place was open tonight, and hopefully people had actually heard about or seen the signs for the Over 18 party. Otherwise... this was going to be lame, oops.

The bar was open in case anyone wanted to drink (imagine that), and the floor in the back room had been mostly cleared with the tables pushed back so people could mingle or eventually sleep if they ended up not wanting to trudge home later.

And there was a sign out.

PARTYGOERS GET THE FIRST ROUND FREE!
(Must be over 18)

Hello, incentive.

[So I am off to drive the sidestreets up to LA on a spare tire and will be trying to ping from my phone, LJ permitting. If not, I will ping back as soon as I get back omg.]

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"Next time I'll hang air fresheners from the stage." Total lie.

"If they're the size of the zombies it might help," Eric decided.

"How about just a lot of them?" she asked.

"It would have to be an awful lot of them," Eric declared. "My nose is very sensitive."

Mr. Giant was picky. "Okay, then you can bring what you think is the right amount, how about that?"

"But a truck that large won't fit down the streets of the island," Eric mused.

"Okay, now you're just maligning the poor zombies," she sighed. "Sentence I never thought I'd say."

Ish.

"They're zombies and deserve to be maligned," was Eric's politically correct take on things.

"It's not like they're nomming on the flesh of the living or anything. They've just got... B.O. issues." Stop arguing this, Kitty.

"And are parts-falling-off challenged?" Eric added.

"Okay, there is that," she conceded.

"And are dumber than werewolves, which takes some talent," Eric replied with a nod.

"...I'm going to have to take your word for that," she decided.

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