I scream, you scream, we all scream.... we ALL scream...

[ilovepuppies]

Who: EVERYONE
What: Fourth of July sucked, we're having a make-up ICE CREAM SOCIAL
Where: The ice cream speakeasy
When: RIGHT NOW
Warnings: Food fights? IDK


Everyone finds a slip of paper slid under their door one morning:

ICE CREAM SOCIAL

8 PM

THE PASSWORD IS SWORDFISH

If you come to the speakeasy at the allotted time, and give the very completely top secret password, you're in. If you've never been to the speakeasy before, you'll find it stocked with tons of ice cream flavors and maybe definitely some alcohol. Star is already here and she has an entire table full of every topping imaginable, including, like, 500 different kinds of sprinkles.

...Some of them might just be straight up glitter. This is Star we're talking about after all.

[OOC: IT'S A MINGLE LOG. get in losers we're stuffing our faces]

Comments

[stinkypete]

[Pete hears the grate clatter to the ground. He grunts, trying to put the crumpled scrap of metal back onto the broken vent.]

NOW, I WANTS YA TO OPEN THE DOOR, ALRIGHT? YOU GOT TWO MINUTES!

[He starts lumbering back towards the door, waiting for Beaker. He'll get his ice cream, property damage be damned.]

[flowersonthewall]

[Beaker flinches at the shouting, and scrambles to his feet. Ok, ok, the door. Right. Conveniently, there's an exit sign pointing him in the right direction, and Beaker soon finds himself standing in front of the door.

And he pauses.

... You know what? Beaker's in now. And Pete isn't. And maybe, if he's lucky, he can avoid being seen by Pete juuust long enough for Pete to forget this whole incident. Maybe.

Beaker weighs his options. He lets Pete in and gets bossed around even more, and probably gets injured; he doesn't let Pete in and gets pummeled sometime in the near future; or, he doesn't let Pete in and he avoids getting caught.

... His chances are bad, but he's taking the third option anyway. Beaker heads back into the speakeasy.]

[stinkypete]

[A few minutes pass. Nothing happens. Pete growls, banging on the door.] OPEN UP! TH' HELL HAPPENED, TWIG? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO COME TO THE DOOR A MINUTE AGO! [No response. Frustrated, Pete kicks over a nearby recycling bin, scattering its contents across the street. He storms off, fuming.] Oooh, when I get my hands on that scrawny lil' cheese puff....

[flowersonthewall]

[Meanwhile, Beaker is eating ice cream.]