[Milliways: Waffles in 134]
The sun shines through the windows of Suite 134, unhindered by the usual heavy drapes. This is because the drapes were never shut last night.
The morning light catches in the raindrops on the window pane, and casts a number of pretty coloured spots over the carpet.
The four occupants of the suite are all dressed, and all out of bed. Unfortunately, none of them are awake, as evidenced by the pile of bodies heaped on the couch. Blue hair rests on orange cotton, and someone else has cashed in a permission slip to use a pair of breasts as a pillow. PlayStation 2 controllers dangle uselessly from the boys' hands, and a betutued Stampy snores contentedly on Indy's lap.
From the first person perspective, the TV screen displays the hands and M1-Garand of a dead British soldier laying across the cobblestones of some anonymous European town, with several pairs of jack boots stalking warily - or perhaps triumphantly - around the corpse. The telegraph-style message on the bottom left of the screen reads: Missing in Action
All is quiet.
The morning light catches in the raindrops on the window pane, and casts a number of pretty coloured spots over the carpet.
The four occupants of the suite are all dressed, and all out of bed. Unfortunately, none of them are awake, as evidenced by the pile of bodies heaped on the couch. Blue hair rests on orange cotton, and someone else has cashed in a permission slip to use a pair of breasts as a pillow. PlayStation 2 controllers dangle uselessly from the boys' hands, and a betutued Stampy snores contentedly on Indy's lap.
From the first person perspective, the TV screen displays the hands and M1-Garand of a dead British soldier laying across the cobblestones of some anonymous European town, with several pairs of jack boots stalking warily - or perhaps triumphantly - around the corpse. The telegraph-style message on the bottom left of the screen reads: Missing in Action
All is quiet.