TFOS Mux Log
8-ish Sat July 24, 2004 TFOS Time. span>
200 Elm Street
One side of 200 Elm Street is taken up by the large Darley Havidson Jet Bike Dealership. Known for their great jet bikes and boogey boards, it's outdone all of the competition and is the only place in Pebble Beach to buy them. The rest of the area consists of some nice homes. Some cars drive to and fro during the day and at night the ACO and police patrol regularly looking for teenagers that are causing trouble.
Hilly and Quincy are chatting innocently, just about to depart the area... It’s a Saturday night, around 8pm. It’s from Vern’s point of view, and his player is doing most of the emitting. However, he blames Quincy and possibly one of the others for the kitten sound effects.
A 6'4", 130 LB Skinny Kid with a lightly freckled face, semi pale skin, and black hair that has been 'gelled' into little anime spikes. His white t-shirt bears a little 'potion bottle' patch on the front. He wears white jeans and over all of this, a white trench coat. His sneakers are black with little random colorful speckles. He smells like... One of those specially made burgers from Al's.
She's tall. Not, like Goliatha tall, but like Xena Warrior Princess tall. Standing at about 6'1", Hilly has the build of an Amazonian, sans humungoid boobies. She possesses a fair among of thigh and calf muscles, making her lower half more substantial than the upper, which has an attractive effect. Her usual posture, thumbs linked in belt loops, shoulders slightly drooped, doesn't reflect her intimidating build.
Hilly's face is that of a normal human at 16 1/2 years. Brown freckles are scattered across the tanned face, especially the bridge of the nose. Hazel eyes match her wheat colored hair, which hangs somewhat tumble-weedy to her back, almost perfectly, giving her the look of toast. Her lips are usually curled at one ending a lopsided smile complete with one dimple.
Today Hilly wears a pair of tight, low rise, worn in blue jeans complete with a leather belt/holster, including the obvious Zap gun, lasso, and oversized silver buckle. On her upper half is a white and red plaid man's work shirt, rolled up to the elbows, tied above the belly button, and unbuttoned strategically at the neck. On her feet are a fair of worn in brown leather cowboy boots complete with rusted spurs. On her head is the same old cowboy hat a la Tony Alpalca's. Yippy...kai...yay.
Vern is an extremely striking example of the human species. Blue eyes that always seem to sparkle are set in his chiselled features that speak of European ancestry. His cheeks dimple when he smiles, lending him an air of youthful exuberance. His hair is a jet black color, parted in the middle so that the strands frame his features, falling just short of touching his ears. The strands that form the front edge of the curtain have been dyed a deep, ruby red. All of his five feet 10 inches can pass for being well defined, going well with his bronze skin.
Vern's outfit seems rather dark today. From his simple black sneakers, all the way up the slightly faded but mostly retraining the deep blue coloring, to his (again) black long sleeved T-shirt. The only pattern of note is a dragon, etched across his chest in varying shades of purple and highlighted boldly with white. His trademark glasses sit either above his head or covering his eyes, the expensive but useless looking gold frames filled with rose-tinted, half-moon lenses.
Sleek and futuristic, Frasier is a positronic robot. Yay! He stands at a height of about 6 feet, maybe a little less. His frame isn't too large, frail perhaps. His entire body is basically a black/grey steel skeleton-type frame underneath semi-transparent casing. His face is made of a translucent pliable gel-type substance, exposing the gears, gizmos, chips, and circuits within. There are two eye-sockets with human-style eyes, blue pupils, inside. A nose is formed in the gel-type face, as well as lips and a mouth. As the gears and workings inside the head move, they push and pull on the gel-face, causing the mouth to open and close, the eyelids to open and close, the nose to wiggle, the lips to frown, ect., ect. Basically, this robot can show facial expressions. Creepy.
Steel shoulders jet from ball-and-socket shoulder joints and meet up with a grey forearm and metal hands. The digits are thin and skeleton-reminiscent. Frasier's chest plate is light grey and otherwise boring. A thin torso of metal jets from it and meets up with a steel pelvis. Black steel tights extend from that, meeting up with grey shins and feet. Frasier is like a metal Calista Flockheart. If he had a stomach, someone would probably insist that he eats. Soon.
And now the log!
Quincy blinks at Hilly. "But that's not true! I like you alot! I’m just shy, that’s all... Um... Slice of Life?"
Hilly nods. "Raght. You lahk me fer mah /mahnd/. Ah got it... Let's git goin'...”
There's the sound of booted feet running, approaching from the East. Behind that... There's the sound of squishing. Lots of squishing.
Quincy blinks! "Wait! What!? No! Really! What do I gotta do to prove otherwise?"
Hilly shrugs. "Doesn't matter, sugah... What's that?" She looks eastward.
Vern enters the scene, running at his highest speed, managing to keep just ahead of the horde of gigantic meatballs bouncing behind him, leaving a trail of sauce splatters leading all the way back to the Grill. Each meatball is about the size of a fully inflated beach ball, and there seems to be thirty or forty of them. "Get back here, you useless sack of fluids!" the lead ball cries, from a mouth that stays pointing forwards, despite its rolling. Vern looks over his shoulder for a moment, "Um... No!" He fails to see Quincy dead ahead.
Quincy blinks... and tries to move Hilly and him out of the way. >.>
Quincy does this how? Standard TACKLE to the side. "Look out!"
Vern looks forwards again. In a direct effort to avoid hitting the teenagers, he scoots around to the side, but catches his toe on a conveniently placed banana peel of all things. Doesn't this scene runner have any sense of originality? The answer... No. Vern spills to the ground, just a few feet away from the others.
Hilly's eyes widen. "What're those?!"
And she points the stampede of food following Vern.
Quincy has tackled hilly then. >.> HE blinks. ".. Um... Giant meatballs with mouths?"
The horde of meatballs lets out a collective laugh, encircling the three humans. "So," the lead ball begins, silencing the others with a commanding bounce, "You seek shelter amongst your tribe. How cowardly." He looks as thoughtful as a giant ball of meat can, his mouth twirling in circles.
Quincy sweatdrops. He gets up, helping Hilly up. "...Hilly? I think I'm going to do something crazy now."
Hilly blinks. "Kill this here cowpoke over here fer runnin' down this here street?" She gestures to Vern.
The lead ball bursts out, "They shalt not save you! You ate the innocent babies, and now you must pay..." The circle begins to tighten around them. Glancing briefly at the two innocent teenagers, he rumbles, "This one ate at the food store known as the Grill." Vern stands, dusting himself off for a moment, and clearing his throat. "Ahem. I believe I have the right to a fair trial." The lead ball shakes briefly. "... Then I believe I have the right to defend myself." The ball shakes again. "... Do I have any rights?" The ball grins.
Quincy sighs. "Oh dear. And I thought I could avoid doing this again... I guess old habits die hard...” He reaches into his pockets... and pulls out... Two... handfuls... of glowing... glass... vials... "...Face the wrath of science!"
Hilly raises a finger. "Umm... Ahbeleive Ah am exempt... Ah have a beloved cow at home named Bessie, and Ah would never, ever eat any biproducts of her or her kahnd... And this fellow was prolly eatin'... tofu balls... not /meat/balls..."
"... Then I believe I have weapons. They sound like a good defence." The lead ball blinks as Vern reaches in his backpack, yelling out a moment later, "Get 'im!" Some of the meat balls bounce forward, tackling the teenager in a spray of sauce. But none go for Hilly and Quincy just yet.
"So," one of the watchers says to the other, "Catch the game the other night?" The second meatball chuckles, "Yeah. Sixteen humans to seven, they got pounded." The first nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's gotta be some kind of record for one nights work..."
The lead meat ball eyes Hilly and Quincy. "Tofu balls are an abomination, a poor imitation of our kind." He leans towards Hilly, but then quickly backs away again when Quincy pulls out the vials. "Oh no! It's a scientist! Get 'im!" The balls bounce for Quincy now.
Quincy Blinks. He raises an eyebrow? "Get him? Get this!" He LOBS both hand fulls of potions, at the Meatballs.
Hilly sighs. "Where's my Zap gun when Ah need it..." She then watches the potions fly through the air, and ducks for cover...
The potions crash against the ground... mix... and then... Explode. Violently. With fiery force. In a bad way. But rather than subject you to a Sound effect of such a magnitude, enough to blow a nearby car sideways, we'll substitute it with this kitten. "Myaaaaw-"*KATTHOOOOOOOOM!*
Vern cries out, "Ew! They're all icky and stuff!" He keeps reaching for his weapons, managing to pull out his gun this time round. He starts firing, still reaching deeper for his sword.
Then the explosion happens. Bits of flying meat go everywhere, and no surface escapes a liberal splattering of sauce. A kitten will land somewhere in the Artic, after it failed to dodge the sound effect it was attempting to provide for. Only the lead ball and the two watcher balls are left, blinking in surprise. "Darn humans," the leader mutters. "Reform! Reform!" he cries out, as pieces of meat slowly start to clump together. Vern lies still, as one does when they've just been given a healthy dose of boom. About five meters away from where he was originally, but still.
Hilly calls out. "Umm... Mister? Could Ah bah any chance borrow that gun again? Ah jist feel so nekkid, and seein' as we formed a bond last naght..?"
Hilly is also splattered generously with sauce.
The gun isn't in Vern's unmoving, sauce splattered hands. In fact, it's just coming down right about now... It misses Quincy by a fraction, landing in front of him with a clatter and a blast of zap. After all, it's been modified to have a super sensitive trigger. The blast flies out and catches the second watcher, making him explode in a smaller version of what happened to the rest. Clumps of meat continue to join together, making a very quickly growing ball.
Hilly watches with disgust as little bits of meat crawl towards the large bit of meat... "That's more disturbin' than a puppy eatin' cactus..." She groans and sits up. She spots the gun! "Baby!" she cries, and crawls frantically towards the gun...
The lead ball and the first ball share a look, and quickly bounce onto the pile of expanding meat products, which they sink into. A giant mouth forms, booming, "Who dares to disturb the slumber of the great Meatysaurus!" It pauses for a moment, then continues is a shrill voice, "Come on, own up, I haven't got all day you know!" Meatysaurus huffs, bouncing with barely restrained impatience.
Vern groans quietly, his fingers twitching. "... I'm gonna be reeking of meat for months..."
Quincy sweatdrops. He looks at Hilly. "I suppose you don’t have a can of juice or something on you, do you?"
Hilly, who was in the process of reaching for her second beloved, is frozen on her hands and knees, her mouth and eyes wide open as she stares at the Meatysaurus. "Wow... Ah wanna... barbecue... you..." At the sound of Quincy's voice, she snaps back. "Juice? O' course not...wait..." She reaches around in her holster and plucks a toddler cup from it. It's filled with lukewarm orange juice. "Will this do? It's a day old, Ah think...”
Quincy blinks, and GRINS. He takes the cup. "Perfect. Um...” He sweatdrops... "Keep it busy... for a moment?"
Meatysaurus rolls forwards to stop directly in front of Hilly. "... Barbeque? Did you say barbeque? Oh, I love them!" he says in a nostalgic voice, "All the people, running a screaming in terror!" He sighs happily, but turns serious a moment later. "Now, about the crushing, death and destruction part..."
Hilly blinks and grins. "Yeah... Us Texans looove crushin' and destruction an' such... Whoo-wee... Say, you never lived near Dallas, have ya?"
Vern sits up, finally grabbing his sword out of his back. He surveys the areas with dazed eyes, and climbs to his feet. He totters towards Meatysaurus.
Meatysaurus grumbles quietly, "Humans, no respect... Texan did you say? I swear, I've heard of them for some reason... Here, lemme just ingest you, and I might be able to tell you why..." He attempts to roll over Hilly, trying out his bluff.
Quincy BLINKS. He mixes his potion... and GLARES at the Meatysaurus. "Stay away from my girlfriend, or DIE!"
Hilly attempts to back away from the Meatysaurus, but slips on the /same/ banana peel Vern did. "Slagdabbit!! Listen, Mr. Meat thing, Ah'm sure Ah can hear yer story from out sahd of you jist... Eeep?"
Meatysaurus swivels to look at Quincy. Well, he swivels, but his mouth stays hovering over Hilly. So you can't really tell if he's turned or not. "Do I have to?" he says smugly. After savouring the moment, he rolls over Hilly. Or where she was. She could've moved by now.
Vern flicks his zap sword on, releasing the hot pink blade from within. He shambles into a run towards Meatysaurus.
Quincy GLARES at the Meatysaurus. "That’s it!" He THROWS the potion... and.... it pops open... and starts to...... Does anybody smell burning mustard?
Hilly was rolled over, by the way...
Quincy runs over, and attempts to pull Hilly away, before it’s too late, but of course it’s going to be too late. :P
Meatysaurus laughs in triumph. "Meatysaurus triumphs again! Triumph, triumph, triumph!" he yells. Apparently, he's rather happy with himself. A pair of nostrils opens wide above his mouth. "... Burning... Mustard?" it says in puzzlement. His mouth rolls around to the top of his head, and he lets out an unholy screech. "My hair is on fire, my hair is on fire!" It rolls around randomly, trying to put the flames out.
Vern chases after the meat ball, swinging his sword and taking small chucks out of his hide. "Get back here you giant... um... Ball of meat!"
Hilly can be seen smooshed into the meat, whenever the ball rolls, revealing that side. She looks angered and meaty.
With as sickening squishing noise, Quincy manages to... Get himself attached to Hilly. Meatysaurus rolls around a few more times, still no closer to putting out his hair, but loosing a considerable amount of mass to the fire. After a revolution or three, Quincy comes free with a suckling noise, as does Hilly.
Vern tries to dodge the pair, but he was following too close.
Hilly dry heaves repeatedly. "So...much... cooked...beeef..."
Quincy blinks, having gotten hilly loose... he turns, and tries to run with her... and if possible, tries to drag Vern with him... "Run! Run run run run run...”
Frasier comes in from the west.
Frasier has arrived.
Quincy and Hilly are covered in bits of meat, and Quincy has a hold of Hilly, and is trying to run, at the same time, trying to grab for nearby Vern... "RUN! RUN AWAY!"
Meatysaurus (think big hunk of circular meat with a large mouth) rolls to a stop, about half his previous gigantic size. Wheezing heavily, his top half blackened, he gives off the stench of cooked meat. "... Oh, that does it, humans. You're all going to pa--" BOOM! Quincy's mustard napalm finally detonates, sending the second wave of splattering meat and sauce everywhere. There's a large circular crater where the monster departed from this world. Vern and Hilly, being carried along by Quincy, are fleeing. Quickly.
Frasier happens to be walking opposite the direction the group is fleeing. So, they're bound to meet at some point. Frasier is walking. That's basically it, kiddos.
Hilly is dry heaving and running and screaming repeatedly, "Ah hate barbecue, Ah hate barbecue, Ah hate barbecue!"
Quincy keeps running... He rubs past Frasier. "No time to explain! RUN! EXPLODING!"
Frasier stops, looking puzzled. Quincy told him to run. Quincy's human. Gotta run. Frasier turns around and begins to run with the group. "Hello there..."
Vern manages to get his own feet under him, and starts carrying his own weight. "Where are we-- What are we-- Who are we-- Hi!" he says cheerfully to Frasier.
Quincy looks back at Frasier. "Hi!" He looks at Vern. "It’s all my fault! It’s my Mustard Napalm!"
Hilly looks at the boys incredulously. "Can we greet at the next block over? Bagsnabbit, we're about t'git blown t'smitherines!"
Actually, the explosions' already happened. Hasn't it? I mean, the kitten is still making its way back from the Artic after the first explosion, so this next secondary explosion can't be as bad, can it? The background lights up briefly, outlining the naive narrator. Apparently, it can.
Quincy dives behind a car, in an attempt to cover hilly. He also tries to drag Vern with him. >.>
Frasier follows in suit with Quincy, making all sorts of clangy-clang type noises as he impacts.
Hilly in the process, also dives (Desperado style).
Vern starts to reply to Quincy, but the words are snatched out of his mouth by the loud rush of displaced air. He shakes off Quincy's hand, turning to look at what could be the cause. He starts to cry out in horror when a flying kitten catches him in the chest. Yay! Our sound effect kitty made it back from the Artic in record time!
No no no. It’s... "MYaaaaawwww...”
Vern just sort of lies on his back, his stunned eyes fixed on the kitten. "... I don't care what you think of yourself. Get off. Now."
"Myaaaw." Open your mouth wider, Kitty. Myawwww...
Hilly says, "Ah reckon we should git down now?"
Quincy blink blinks, and looks down at hilly, who he is lying on. "..Uh... Are you okay?"
Frasier sits up, "Are we finished fleeing?"
Hilly blinks. "When...how? ...Well, Ah... Ah'm jist fahn, mahself... you?"
You say, "No, seriously." He lifts the kitten off, and sits up. A moment later the kitten jumps back into his lap. He sighs, and waves his sword in front of the feline. "I'm warning you..." His threats earn him a hand-licking. "Dagnabbit..."
Hilly frowns. "Hey that's mah lahn... Whah hasn't that thand blown up yet... And... You’re still on me, Quince, sugah...”
Quincy BLINKS. He shakes his head. "Uh... Wha-... EEP!" He sits up, and gets off of hilly. "Sorry!" Sweatdrop.
Frasier sits up and ask, "Are we finished fleeing?"
Vern passes the kitten across to Frasier. "Ask him," Vern mumbles, taking a few moments to straighten out his meat-sauced clothing.
Frasier holds the cat for a moment before placing it on the ground and giving it a gentle tap to make it scurry away.
"....Nyow?" ...The sad, sad cat, walks away... Before it gets hit by a car...... What? ... Don’t look at me that way. I was only kidding. A bunch of girls scouts carry it away for 'dress up' ... Hmm. Maybe the car would have been better for it. "NyooooW!" Poor little sod.
Hilly leans against Quincy. "Well... Ah think Ah'ma vegetarian fer about two weeks...”
Quincy blinks, and smirks. "Really? Because I could really go for a hotdog right now." ^_^
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