He waited, but alas, in vain, for the rest of the roles to fill up. He'd made the proper additions to his sign and rehung it in its old place.

( New Cast List )

Geoffrey had gotten the idea into his head that he needed something to do. And that something was Hamlet. So there is a large notice posted in the main lobby, with a slightly twitchy Geoffrey hovering near by.

( AUDITIONS! )

And in walks in a small furry red monster.

"Hello? Dorothy? Big Bird? ... Maria?"

He looks around some.

"Elmo thinks that Elmo is lost."

Typist: .... I've lost my mind. Elmo. If you don't know, he's from Sesame Street. Of course, if you don't know, I'm inclined to ask what ROCK you've been living under...

Enter Monica. She's in jeans and a sweater and gloves.

That's right. Gloves. She's on a mission. She appears to have been cleaning not moments before and now she pauses, because this is not her kitchen.

"...Okay. This isn't funny. And also? When was the last time someone dusted these tables? My God."

As we've established, Ray always trusted his gut. And right now, his gut was telling him it wanted to be fed. So he did what any hungry man would do. He found the kitchen and raided the fridge ( Read more... )

Stanley Raymond Kowalski had been a lot of weird situations before. Most of them involving a certain mountie. But this was entirely new. He'd somehow ended up in a completely unfamiliar hotel lobby, not a soul in sight ( Read more... )

*blinks* I've just found myself in a strange hotel on a beach that is definitely not Manhattan's. *waves skyward* Thanks, guys! At least they skipped the rectal probes, huh?

So, what does a-- frighteningly average, vanilla guy do for fun around here?

Typist: Introducing the incredible, the amazing, the unrelentingly quippy and insecure and ( Read more... )

*wanders in, laden down with shopping bags, and glances around, rather confused*

...Um. This isn't Bloomingdale's. What am I doing here?

Typist: Rachel from Friends. Have fun with her.

*and here's a rather handsome youngish sort of man, walking in and flopping on a chair in the lobby*

....Hey. This isn't Rosita. ...*blinkblink* This isn't my apartment, either. Where the hell is Rosita?

Typist: Joey, from Friends. Be nice to him. XD

*wanders in and sits by the window with her guitar*

*begins strumming a seemingly random tune*

*sings, in a mediocre yet charming enough voice* Smelly cat... smelly cat...

*doesn't seem to realize that this isn't a place she's never been before, and definitely not Central Perk*

Typist: Phoebe Buffay of Friends. Enjoy.