{ACTION POST :: Locked to Trigun [Sane] Guys & L :: FUTUREDATED TURKEY DAY LOG PPL COMIN' THROUGH}
((ooc: You people owe me money for the pressure this is going to put me under.))
--Emphasis on the LOCKED part; don't crash this shit unless you're a stripper (L, put your clothes back on)... or a member of the CLAMP crew, apparently. You guys have been determined to be as cool as strippers. And Clark. Who isn't as cool as strippers, but is sugary sweet, therefore has to be there.--
They were just very lucky Meryl Stryfe enjoyed cooking for them to some remote degree. They at least appreciated it, and for some reason, come that day, Meryl felt more inclined to help with the Thanksgiving feast than she had the night before. In fact, the idea of keeping busy, even though she had no idea what the holiday really meant beyond lots of food and saying 'thank you' made the (wee) young woman rather pleased. And so, she arrived early in the morning with a cart full of groceries to start. The cart was not hers; in fact, it was quite clearly labeled to belonging to a local grocery store, but Meryl swore, really, she'd take it back. It's not like they'd particularly miss it, she justified, since they had probably a thousand more. But she'd take it back.
Really. Just as soon as she convinced someone it'd be a good idea to ride it down the street like a sled.
Things were going so well, too. Everyone had been respecting Meryl's space, aside from those assisting her (like Miss Rem), and Meryl was taking the time to really get to know the conveniences of the varying appliances. Meryl figured out the microwave (with one small scare from leaving a fork in stabbed through butter needlessly) and everything for what she was doing, and was busily scuttling around the kitchen as she prepared to gut the very, very large turkey sitting in its cooking tray. Of course, that's when she paused to stare at it. Dropping the massive thing into that tray had nearly broken the counter, and how Meryl got the strength to do that was beyond her. But after adding the stuffing and whatever else she was going to need to, it'd be impossible to get into the oven. Rem wouldn't be able to do it, that was for sure.
Tapping her lips carefully, she considered options. Fortunately, she had a number of strong males who could do that for her. So, clucking her tongue, Meryl lived up to her reputation by turning her head and shouting, "I'M GOING TO NEED SOME LIFTING HELP IN HERE!" before moving in on the turkey to begin her work on hollowing it out.
--Emphasis on the LOCKED part; don't crash this shit unless you're a stripper (L, put your clothes back on)... or a member of the CLAMP crew, apparently. You guys have been determined to be as cool as strippers. And Clark. Who isn't as cool as strippers, but is sugary sweet, therefore has to be there.--
They were just very lucky Meryl Stryfe enjoyed cooking for them to some remote degree. They at least appreciated it, and for some reason, come that day, Meryl felt more inclined to help with the Thanksgiving feast than she had the night before. In fact, the idea of keeping busy, even though she had no idea what the holiday really meant beyond lots of food and saying 'thank you' made the (wee) young woman rather pleased. And so, she arrived early in the morning with a cart full of groceries to start. The cart was not hers; in fact, it was quite clearly labeled to belonging to a local grocery store, but Meryl swore, really, she'd take it back. It's not like they'd particularly miss it, she justified, since they had probably a thousand more. But she'd take it back.
Really. Just as soon as she convinced someone it'd be a good idea to ride it down the street like a sled.
Things were going so well, too. Everyone had been respecting Meryl's space, aside from those assisting her (like Miss Rem), and Meryl was taking the time to really get to know the conveniences of the varying appliances. Meryl figured out the microwave (with one small scare from leaving a fork in stabbed through butter needlessly) and everything for what she was doing, and was busily scuttling around the kitchen as she prepared to gut the very, very large turkey sitting in its cooking tray. Of course, that's when she paused to stare at it. Dropping the massive thing into that tray had nearly broken the counter, and how Meryl got the strength to do that was beyond her. But after adding the stuffing and whatever else she was going to need to, it'd be impossible to get into the oven. Rem wouldn't be able to do it, that was for sure.
Tapping her lips carefully, she considered options. Fortunately, she had a number of strong males who could do that for her. So, clucking her tongue, Meryl lived up to her reputation by turning her head and shouting, "I'M GOING TO NEED SOME LIFTING HELP IN HERE!" before moving in on the turkey to begin her work on hollowing it out.