The Wiener Moon is nigh.
Two weeks ago, a batch of strangely-colored hot dogs appeared in Milliways.
Some patrons ate them. Others were inexplicably bitten by the strange sausages. Both groups were afflicted by a strange illness, the symptoms of which included an itchy rash, unusual hair growth, and cravings for condiments. The physical effects of this 'infection,' however, were as nothing compared to the mental effects. There is a presence in the minds of the infected, growing in power with each passing day, pushing them to spread the infection.
But today? Today it's different.
The presence now strikes all the infected simultaneously, with the force of a tidal wave. It's all but impossible to resist, and although the message is wordless, its content is clear:
It is time. Claim my territory.
[ooc: And it's Wiener Uprising time! If you're a Minion, attack your fellow patrons; if you're not a Minion, fight back or just cower under a table somewhere. Party-style tagging, threadhopping is encouraged, open until I say it's not. Have fun, kids!]
Some patrons ate them. Others were inexplicably bitten by the strange sausages. Both groups were afflicted by a strange illness, the symptoms of which included an itchy rash, unusual hair growth, and cravings for condiments. The physical effects of this 'infection,' however, were as nothing compared to the mental effects. There is a presence in the minds of the infected, growing in power with each passing day, pushing them to spread the infection.
But today? Today it's different.
The presence now strikes all the infected simultaneously, with the force of a tidal wave. It's all but impossible to resist, and although the message is wordless, its content is clear:
It is time. Claim my territory.
[ooc: And it's Wiener Uprising time! If you're a Minion, attack your fellow patrons; if you're not a Minion, fight back or just cower under a table somewhere. Party-style tagging, threadhopping is encouraged, open until I say it's not. Have fun, kids!]