[OPEN]
WHO: Morgan the Sandwich King and...YOU? ;D
WHAT: House-hunting!
WHERE: Where ever the houses are. By the Market Place?
WHEN: Late Morning.
It had been one night since Morgan got off the Boat of Hell and onto the land of Evil and No Tacos. One night of roughing it in the wild, untamed lands. Or uh, you know. Climbing into the window of a house and hiding and talking to the people in his book thing, which was so bizarre that he decided not to question it.
Whatever he did last night, he decided he did not want to do it again, and thus, he was here. House-hunting. Like an adult. He strolled idly down what appeared to be the main drag of the joint, not really knowing what he was looking for. Was there like...currency in this crazy game? Did he have to go kill chickens and trade them for room and board? He really wasn't down with the whole chicken sacrifice thing. If that was the deal, he figured he'd have to turn into like, Robin Hood or something, but instead of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, it would be stealing from the rich and giving to the Morgan. Har....har?
The shops along the road were giving off heavenly smells, though not smells of the taco variety. Though, he hadn't eaten since he got here, so even non-taco/sandwich smells smelled appetizing. Oh how the mighty have fallen, he thought glumly, dragging his feet and stuffing his hands inside his pockets. Next thing you know, I'll be eating vegetables or something.
He walked over to the curb, plopping himself down onto the textured ground heavily, leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees and cradle his face in his palms. Something sharp poked him in the backside and he cursed, face slumping down into a pout.
"This place sucks," he announced to no one in particular.
WHAT: House-hunting!
WHERE: Where ever the houses are. By the Market Place?
WHEN: Late Morning.
It had been one night since Morgan got off the Boat of Hell and onto the land of Evil and No Tacos. One night of roughing it in the wild, untamed lands. Or uh, you know. Climbing into the window of a house and hiding and talking to the people in his book thing, which was so bizarre that he decided not to question it.
Whatever he did last night, he decided he did not want to do it again, and thus, he was here. House-hunting. Like an adult. He strolled idly down what appeared to be the main drag of the joint, not really knowing what he was looking for. Was there like...currency in this crazy game? Did he have to go kill chickens and trade them for room and board? He really wasn't down with the whole chicken sacrifice thing. If that was the deal, he figured he'd have to turn into like, Robin Hood or something, but instead of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, it would be stealing from the rich and giving to the Morgan. Har....har?
The shops along the road were giving off heavenly smells, though not smells of the taco variety. Though, he hadn't eaten since he got here, so even non-taco/sandwich smells smelled appetizing. Oh how the mighty have fallen, he thought glumly, dragging his feet and stuffing his hands inside his pockets. Next thing you know, I'll be eating vegetables or something.
He walked over to the curb, plopping himself down onto the textured ground heavily, leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees and cradle his face in his palms. Something sharp poked him in the backside and he cursed, face slumping down into a pout.
"This place sucks," he announced to no one in particular.