OOM: Suite 134
Not that any of them tend to choose the destination or the modus operandi, but it is a fact that beings arrive at the Bar at the End of the Universe in all manner of different ways. Sometimes they walk through the front door; sometimes they apparate spectacularly into the middle of the bar; and sometimes they materialize in the bath tubs of certain upstairs rooms during an attempt to use a 'new' hi-tech toaster. The visitor in this case is unfortunate enough to fit into the latter category.
It is around mid-morning when the shower curtain of the Suite 134 guest bathroom billows out and flares in a momentary blaze of purple light. From behind it there is a thud, an oof and the clatter of wood on porcelain.
Silence follows. However, if one were to listen very carefully, one might pick up the sound of head fur being scratched confusedly.
Then out drifts a dazed voice. It is a voice that holds as much wisdom as it does bemusement. And it is a voice that escalates in pitch to convey an annoyed accusation and the imminent threat of walking stick-related repercussions.
"Donatello!"
It is around mid-morning when the shower curtain of the Suite 134 guest bathroom billows out and flares in a momentary blaze of purple light. From behind it there is a thud, an oof and the clatter of wood on porcelain.
Silence follows. However, if one were to listen very carefully, one might pick up the sound of head fur being scratched confusedly.
Then out drifts a dazed voice. It is a voice that holds as much wisdom as it does bemusement. And it is a voice that escalates in pitch to convey an annoyed accusation and the imminent threat of walking stick-related repercussions.
"Donatello!"