Who: OPEN TO ANYONE ON THE SS THOR
What: Thanksgiving at Hill House!
When: NOV 25th
Where: In Hill House, in the Residential Sector of the SS Thor.
Warnings: Hideousness, hilarity, and who knows someone might manage to be srs. Random haunted activity.
Notes: Action threading suggested. Individual Thread Headings for some activities; feel free
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The maid pauses to size up the building. It looks like she'll have her work cut out for her. But there's plenty of time before the party, and it's not as if there's anything else she's planning to do for the next two days.
She walks up to the door and knocks politely.]
Please excuse me! Is there anyone in? I am here to provide cleaning service!
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[straightening her "cleaning and decorating and ultimately NOT party cloths", Renge takes the time to smooth down her hair in a random mirror - assuring she looks presentable - before rushing over to answer the door. with a creak, she pulls the front door open and beams at the woman standing there.]
A cleaning service? I didn't know Sakura-chan hired a cleaning service... But no matter~! Come on in~!
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Instead, she bows politely.]
Thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Tama.
[And then she enters, immediately calculating the level of-- oh good lord, does anyone here know the first thing about dusting? Halloween was last month, guys. It's time to take down those cobwebs.]
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[she has found some cleaning gloves underneath the sink and has donned the latex yellow rubbers in preparation for cooking the turkey. but now, it seems as if the raw bird's backside is staring her down and the blond progressively turns paler and paler.]
[she doesn't want to sodomize the bird. no even to stuff it.]
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Did we decide it was safe to cook the stuffing inside the bird? Half the things I read said it was better to do it outside.
[ pay no mind as she comes over to look up the evacuated chest cavity. ]
Everything's out, right? The neck, the giblets?
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[ugh why did you have to remind her that she's supposed to be fistfucking and taking the insides out of this turkey, woman?]
[Renge, appeasingly, holds up both her gloved hands and pouts.]
I can't....do it. It's - it's...
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[she doesn't have the willpower to look yet.]
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[not bleeding from a dozen cuts, just flecked with the aftermath of a cranberry sauce incident]
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[that pesky cranberry sauce.]
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... Beware the mints. They may or may not help induce good will and/or heighten appetites.
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Too bad he's not hungry and not touching any of it. Why did he agree to this, again?]
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[ stuffs a roll in his own mouth ]
[ ... belatedly notices the stranger next to him is not eating ]
[ stalks through his delicious buttery yeastness; ]
Schumatta?
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[It takes him just a second to decipher what was spoken] What makes you think there's a problem?
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