They call me 'Tundra Boy' cause I move like an artic lizard
Who: Vince Noir and the welcoming committee
Where: Lobby
When: Mid-morning
What: Vince stumbles upon the hotel. Idiocy ensues.
Vince Noir was in a place he thought he'd never find himself, the stockroom of the Nabootique. It was dark, cold, and Vince was quite sure something was moving around not far from his left elbow. He hated this. He hated every bleeding moment spent--"Ooh. I'm havin' them!" he exclaimed, pulling a pair of plain black boots from a box. If he ever made it out of Stockroom Hell, he'd customize those puppies and wear them out. Vince dove into another box, in hopes of finding more discarded treasures. So what if they happened to belong to his boss and flat mate, Naboo? He was sure the tiny shaman wouldn't mind.
After twenty solid minutes of rummaging, Vince happened upon a small door in the back wall. What in the name of Mick Jagger was this? He pulled open the door and stuck his head through. Before him lay a vast, snowy white plain. "Leave it to Naboo to have a frozen tundra in the stockroom." Vince sighed, pulling the rest of his body through. He climbed to his white platformed feet, dusting off his favorite sequined bodysuit.
Yep. Lots of snow. Not a thing in sight, really, except that ramshackle hotel.
Vince turned around to crawl back through the little door, only to find that it was nowhere in sight. Not again! This was just like the time he and Howard stranded themselves on the planet Xooberon, only much, much colder. He supposed there was nothing he could do except take shelter in the hotel, and wait for someone to rescue him.
"Good morning Mr. Noir. Welcome to the Hotel California." said a nondescript man behind the immaculate counter. Vince couldn't believe his eyes! The inside of this hotel was warm and inviting, and not filled with little blue Xooberonian men.
"Alright?" He replied, moving across the marble floor towards the man. "What did you say this place is called?"
The man half smiled at Vince, "The Hotel California, sir."
Vince giggled a bit. "Like that Eagles song, then? Is this a theme hotel, like those ones in Las Vegas? Cool..."
"Here's your key, sir. Please enjoy your stay." The concierge slid a room key across the countertop to Vince before disappearing into thin air.
Where: Lobby
When: Mid-morning
What: Vince stumbles upon the hotel. Idiocy ensues.
Vince Noir was in a place he thought he'd never find himself, the stockroom of the Nabootique. It was dark, cold, and Vince was quite sure something was moving around not far from his left elbow. He hated this. He hated every bleeding moment spent--"Ooh. I'm havin' them!" he exclaimed, pulling a pair of plain black boots from a box. If he ever made it out of Stockroom Hell, he'd customize those puppies and wear them out. Vince dove into another box, in hopes of finding more discarded treasures. So what if they happened to belong to his boss and flat mate, Naboo? He was sure the tiny shaman wouldn't mind.
After twenty solid minutes of rummaging, Vince happened upon a small door in the back wall. What in the name of Mick Jagger was this? He pulled open the door and stuck his head through. Before him lay a vast, snowy white plain. "Leave it to Naboo to have a frozen tundra in the stockroom." Vince sighed, pulling the rest of his body through. He climbed to his white platformed feet, dusting off his favorite sequined bodysuit.
Yep. Lots of snow. Not a thing in sight, really, except that ramshackle hotel.
Vince turned around to crawl back through the little door, only to find that it was nowhere in sight. Not again! This was just like the time he and Howard stranded themselves on the planet Xooberon, only much, much colder. He supposed there was nothing he could do except take shelter in the hotel, and wait for someone to rescue him.
"Good morning Mr. Noir. Welcome to the Hotel California." said a nondescript man behind the immaculate counter. Vince couldn't believe his eyes! The inside of this hotel was warm and inviting, and not filled with little blue Xooberonian men.
"Alright?" He replied, moving across the marble floor towards the man. "What did you say this place is called?"
The man half smiled at Vince, "The Hotel California, sir."
Vince giggled a bit. "Like that Eagles song, then? Is this a theme hotel, like those ones in Las Vegas? Cool..."
"Here's your key, sir. Please enjoy your stay." The concierge slid a room key across the countertop to Vince before disappearing into thin air.