(no subject)
"Oh, hardy har har."
Of all the nights to get a sense of humor on him, Bar, this is not the one. Between the steady march of progress at home, the ruckus out by the lake, and the deeply unnerving vibe inside the bar, a guy just wants to sit down, eat his waffles with extra syrup in peace, and then do a truly magnificent runner toward someplace less apocalypse-y.
Instead? He gets a trumpet-shaped kazoo with his food.
Giving the instrument a look of disgust, he plucks it off the bartop and turns an incredulous glare down to Bar. "Seriously?" he demands under his breath. Bar keeps her placid silence.
Whatever. It has to be a joke, right? He can go along with a joke, especially if the alternative's making it obvious how much said joke gets to him. So, rolling his eyes -- maybe a little defiantly, definitely a lot sarcastically -- he buzzes out a tiny ta-daaaaa! on the kazoo.
Ka-CRACK.
Anybody sitting at the bar? Sorry. You've got a bunch of granite rubble in your food and/or drink now.
Anybody looking up? You'll get a nice view of a new crack in the ceiling, which goes the whole length of the bar and is almost a foot wide in some spots.
As for the guy who caused it...yeah. He's just gonna get a to-go box for those waffles and wink out of plain view ASAP, leaving the trumpet kazoo behind.
HE DIDN'T DO NOTHIN'. IT WAS THE ONE-ARMED MAN.
[open for reactions, but the Trickster has officially blown this popstand until after the Allpocalypse. See you on the flip side!]
Of all the nights to get a sense of humor on him, Bar, this is not the one. Between the steady march of progress at home, the ruckus out by the lake, and the deeply unnerving vibe inside the bar, a guy just wants to sit down, eat his waffles with extra syrup in peace, and then do a truly magnificent runner toward someplace less apocalypse-y.
Instead? He gets a trumpet-shaped kazoo with his food.
Giving the instrument a look of disgust, he plucks it off the bartop and turns an incredulous glare down to Bar. "Seriously?" he demands under his breath. Bar keeps her placid silence.
Whatever. It has to be a joke, right? He can go along with a joke, especially if the alternative's making it obvious how much said joke gets to him. So, rolling his eyes -- maybe a little defiantly, definitely a lot sarcastically -- he buzzes out a tiny ta-daaaaa! on the kazoo.
Ka-CRACK.
Anybody sitting at the bar? Sorry. You've got a bunch of granite rubble in your food and/or drink now.
Anybody looking up? You'll get a nice view of a new crack in the ceiling, which goes the whole length of the bar and is almost a foot wide in some spots.
As for the guy who caused it...yeah. He's just gonna get a to-go box for those waffles and wink out of plain view ASAP, leaving the trumpet kazoo behind.
HE DIDN'T DO NOTHIN'. IT WAS THE ONE-ARMED MAN.
[open for reactions, but the Trickster has officially blown this popstand until after the Allpocalypse. See you on the flip side!]