[015] Video

[to_rebel]

[Because everyone needs a tribble post. Also, action for anyone near willing lend a hand.]

[The video feeds comes on, only to immediately be darkened by a mass of dark-brown fur. It's with an impatient move that the fluff-lump is brushed away and the Underworld is treated to an angel stalwartly ignoring the cooing and trilling while he tries --

Comments

[roadhouse_mama]

[Have a harried, and very angry bar owner. Ellen is standing damn near knee-deep in balls of fur in the Roadhouse kitchen. She is clearly furious, as they've eaten everything that could possibly be consumed in the entire establishment. Food, condiments, even the goddamn salt and limes.]

No. But let me know if you figure somethin' out Cas. The damn things are going to stack to the ceiling at this rate.

[The tribbles are wrecking her bar. Her bar. Sharktopi were bad enough. These? They were worse because they shed. They shed all over everything.]

[to_rebel]

[He understands that anger completely. He sets a few broken pieces of glass in the sink -- after shoveling handfuls of the things out of said sink -- and turns back toward the video.]

Short of expending energy on something that most likely would not work, I find myself scrambling to keep up with them.

[Mass teleportation certainly is looking more and more like an option, though.]

[roadhouse_mama]

[She wades through the tribbles and nearly faceplants into a pile of them. They might be soothing to some, but their trilling is just rankling her nerves as it gets louder. Swearing colorfully, she rights herself by hanging on to a barstool.]

I'm a might bit tempted to call Crowley to see if he's got a flame thrower. There's hair everywhere.

[Yes, she knows then the bar would smell like burnt hair, but she's desperate.]

I think they stop breeding once the food runs out.

[to_rebel]

[The sound is definitely somewhat soothing; what they are doing is beyond irritating.]

And what do those here who need food do then?

[roadhouse_mama]

[It might be soothing to some, but it's jangling her nerves something awful. She snorts and kicks a pile of tribbles out of the way.]

Barbeque the little bastards?

[to_rebel]

I see no flaw in that plan.

[roadhouse_mama]

I'll call Crowley. Provided he's got one, I'll get the Roadhouse cleaned out, then I'll come by and see to the house.

[to_rebel]

Bring shovels.