Who needs crack when you've got TOAST?

[mmm_yum_toast]

As things so often do, a table has appeared in a corner of a frequently-visited room of the mansion. This table is covered in toast and the necessary accoutrements, courtesy of the Toast Marketing Board

Comments

[mancalledspade]

Spade, after having wandered the mansion for several days unable to answer any of his many questions, stumbled on to the table of assorted toast. Though he had managed liquid refreshment, he hadn't eaten much, and his stomach reminded him of the fact. On the other hand, he had no way of knowing where the toast was from or who it belonged to.

He stood, debating, for a moment, taking long, thoughtful drags on his cigarette. Finally, he muttered "Leaving poisoned toast around is an idiotic way to murder someone," and moved to spread strawberry jam on a slice of rye.

[revmother_livia]

"Are you expecting to be murdered, Mr. Spade?" Livia asked wryly, having heard his comment in passing.

Bemused, she peered around him at the table. "Toast? It's like an hors d'oeuvre table catered by my mother..." But she was quite hungry herself and picked up a slice of white bread with butter.

[mancalledspade]

Spade swallowed his mouthful of toast. What he meant to say was: "I'm sure people have better things to do than murder me, sweetheart." However, by the time it reached Livia's ears, it had become:

"I'm certain someone may begin
A cunning plan to do me in."

Spade blinked several times, as if trying to reconcile what had just happened with his expectations for reality. Clearly, these expectations could stand revision.

[revmother_livia]

Livia nibbled on her toast and applauded his poetry with an amused little golf clap. 'That was lovely. Shakespeare, perhaps? Or did you compose it yourself?' she means to say, but instead of her usual Irish drawl, it comes out likes something from a bad western.

"Ooo-eee, that thar was the purdiest rhyming I dun heard in my life. You make that up yerself or was it that thar Shakey-speare fella?"

She fumbled her toast in surprise, dropping it butter-side down on the carpet.

"Well, shieet."

[creatorofgods]

Conradin loves toast, so his face lights up upon seeing a whole table of it.

He drags up a chair, and makes himself comfortable, as he samples everything. Except cheese, cheese doesn't go on toast, really.

Typist: IT HAD TO BE TOAST, DIDN'T IT?

[mmm_yum_toast]

The Toast Marketing Board has taken a likening toward this boy--though if everyone's face lit up like that at the sight of toast, the Board wouldn't have much of a job.

From some hiding place, a camera has zoomed in on Conradin's face as he makes known to the world the Goodness Of Toast.

[ari_v_2_0]

...Toast!

Despite Catlin's strict ban on everything not prepared by her or Florian, Ari wavers, weakens, and reaches for a slice of wheat.

[catlin_7892]

"...Sera."

[ari_v_2_0]

Caught. "It's only toast, Catlin," Ari says, her hand staying suspended in midair, neither returning the toast, nor putting anything on it.

[catlin_7892]

"There's a lot," Catlin says. Meaning setup. "Please, sera."

[theblondgypsy]

If there's free food around, Gringoire will take it. He hasn't learned to be discriminating with the food here yet. So when he takes a piece of white bread and puts marmalade on it, he says in an Irish brogue for all to hear, "Holy Virgin! I do! I do love her! I love La Esmeralda!"

Typist: Uh oh.

[mhari]

have I mentioned I <3 Gringoire? Because I <3 him. With many 3's.

[theblondgypsy]

As soon as he's made this declaration however, he remembers. "Phoebus! Whoever he is, she worships him! What chance do I have against that? And when did I pick up this rather odd accent? It's not French, that's for certain!"

Typist: Heh. The world needs more Gringoire love. :)

[gypsysorceress]

*and, of course, the woman in question would have to be passing at that very moment, and would just have to hear that statement. She stops in her tracks and just stares, a slightly terrified look on her face*

[clever_weaver]

Normally Penelope would know better than to eat things left on tables. Unfortunately for her, the typist likes this crackplot and her only other puppet is currently an owl. So she picks up a rather delicious looking piece of rye bread and covers it in equally delicious looking jam.
"This snack, I think, is quite divine;
quite sweet, yet sour- 'twould go good with wine."