Smoking Tequila and Drinking Nicotine [Open 4 potatos]

[Guest]

Once upon a time, there was a sweet merry man named Douglas, who was totally not being active and around because he'll be PUNTED by some evil unnatural force from beyond yonder in which fates have control over the world for an unexplained reason. It were as if madness had presided over the many myriad of world politics to be for wars what were many to be conducted in a VERY strange ass way from actually conventional battles for place of dramas. WELL WHATEVER. He killed those people before, shot them in the face, and also stabbed a few with a banana.

Douglas sat on a chair. That chair was in the middle of the city. He looked upon a mirror. The city was REALLY deserted. THEN AGAIN, this was where the Drachman army marched once before SO.... any not half-retarded beings with a semblance of intelligence WON'T come back. BUT THEN, the fatties came back because of the myriad of free food. Douglas though then resolved that maybe these suspiciously Drachman folks moving in MIGHT be spies as he spotted with his eyes... goggles. Said folks just beards, and Drachman fur hats, and all that jazz. AH WELL, prolly not tourists. This city was said to be PERFECTLY safe. So he had his guns, firearms and machete, sitting in full view without any police officers coming to the cafe by the side of the road to actually ARREST him for brandishing weapons openly. That and his kevlar, grenades among other things.

Also he has a knife named Larissa on his side, and a tank, which broke through the cafe and ruined it. Also a pasted bartender whose remains were smeared and gushing with blood as it ran on the tank treads. Said tank was like behind him. It was one of them abandoned Drachman ones that actually worked. ANYWAYS, he just sat down, and CASUALLY drank his tea, with his mask pulled up and all that jazz.

[Emmelin]

Valeria wasn't exactly sure why she was in Creta again, but it had to be a good reason. It was pure luck (Probably) that she was given a nice basket of wines and a large amount of candies. Weird people were weird and always mistook her for an actress, but hell, who'd turn down free stuff? then again, she didn't really trust free stuff, and so she gave the contents to a few homeless people on her way about the town. They were naturally overly enthused about it and would probably bludgeon one another for the last bottle of wine when it got there. Oh well. Valeria had done her charity work and done something nice. Kind of.

In the distance she could see a rather large tank and some weapons about. Any normal person would probably be worried about approaching a heavily armed man, but Val was not approaching him. Instead she approached the terrified vendor. She was parched and needed a drink after all. Non alcoholic drink of course. A simple strawberry drink was enough to sate her thirsting taste-buds. She caught eyes with the only other person there, but Val didn't speak to him. She simply sat at a table and nursed her beverage.

[Guest]

Douglas glanced upward at the incoming presence of a woman whom looks like a lily flower plucked straight away from its thorns, or perhaps a turnip. Usually these kinds of people are people personally whom are people. Whichever the case, he gulped down the hot beverage in one downing through his throat and unto his stomach, boiling like a cauldron as his tongue was scalded by the hot beverage. The cosmos has granted Doug everlasting power and control over what would be extended onward the power of the tank behind him which he didn't ride at the moment but it remained behind him nonetheless, with the DEAD BARTENDER smeared on it that FOR SOME REASON nobody is noticing. Or the fact it was Drachman, and said man was wielding DRACHMAN firearms. Whichever the case, he merely stared at the girl across him seated on the other table.

In such obviousness it were but a potato sat across him, for such congregation settled unto this café were open to naught but like folks to those of potato demographics such bequeath their invitation onward for but a momentary activity. Such veneer vanity brought forth the downfall of this otherwise sordid city hence brought influx of vast depravity and otherwise solitary lack of populace hence vox populi in lacking such measures forth to implement in great a number of hosts thatw ere abundant now naught but a lacking of such.

The cliché thing to do is for NO COMPREHENSIBLE REASON, Douglas would look at the obviously interesting woman, like some Shounen title guy, pop up to her, say something INTERESTING, try to make a harem, apparently be an 18 year old high school student who is not only the world's deadliest mercenary but also the most interesting generic guy out there, AND maybe get some shit done by having some dramatic battle with an old arch nemesis who is evil. Thing is... Douglas is not that guy, Douglas is JUST a guy, who is sipping his tea, which is gone, and now dipping a strawberry into his mouth. The alluring fruit tangling his tongue with zest as he grinds it up within one fell munch of his teeth upon the fruit. Pulling down his mask, concealing his mysterious face as he now plays the pointless game of SIT THERE, and do absolutely nothing but brandish his guns, caressing them too sensually. Stroking the fine gun surface with his fingers as if he were holding a dame in place. Yep, sitting there, just to pass time. It's not like he is wasting time to actually foster activity or anything so he wouldn't be kicked out.

Douglas's Gun (noun)

1 - a weapon consisting of a metal tube, with mechanical attachments, from which projectiles are shot by the force of an explosive; a piece of ordnance.

2 - an object used to reach high places to pull down what cannot be reached.

3 - A tool oft used to pressing flowers.

4 - A knob knocker.

5 - The greatest magical power our world has ever known, belching fire and brimstone. And offering supreme power to the one that uses it!

6 - Doug's back scratcher.

[Jay Furor]

~BUMP~

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