Surprised yet secretly pleased to discover she's grown to become "vuluptuous" (if only when in character), Tway opens the fridge to check on her most precious posession - the foodstuff that holds the key to answers, the code to the universe. The most destructive yet irrisistable secret weapon there is.
"Ah, Fred didn't get you, my precious," Tway mumbles, taking a bite. "He may have the spy salami, and the secret sardines, but you - he hasn't figured you out yet."
Replacing the cover, Tway doesn't notice she accidently flips the secret switch which kept the spyware asleep. And suddenly it's awake and searching - searching, searching for its rightful owner. The chocolate cake is looking for the one who started it all.
And way down in Arizona, CC stops mid-M&M bag and hears the call she's been waiting on for years...
... "God that was dumb. who the hell goes up to canada from here mid fall?" Evan asks himself, still holding out his thumb. at least im probably most of the way there. im freezing my nuts off though.
"of course, i wouldnt think to get a thicker jacket before i run off, would i? that might require sentient thought." he mutters to himself.
pausing for a moment, he rubs his hands together, blowing warm air into the seemingly frozen extremities. Slowly, He starts to take a half turn, looking around sporadically to take in the area and maybe see if theres any cars coming. nothing here but a cold, blue sky. man, some gloves wouldn't be bad, either.
He chuckles to himself.
"ah well, nothing i can do about it now, just take it as it comes. hell, this is as good a reason as any to go anywhere." he says, smiling.
slowly puts up his thumb, with arm in a kind of halfway raised manner that would give you a sort of apathetic impression if you looked at it.
about a half an hour passes and eventually a car pulls ahead of him. just some random sedan, dirty from a long drive, or disregard. but to Evan, it looked like some kind of solace from the cold and the walk. getting in, he asks,
"thanks alot man, i appreciate it. where are you headed?"
"toronto" the man says, simply.
"it always works out, doesnt it?" Evan says to himself quietly.
"huh?" the man asks,
Sgt Zhang sat in his squad car, contemplating his next course of action. damn, where going after some hippie? what a pain in the ass. id be best off putting a dimebag on a string and dragging it through town. well, better work on whatever this is, if you call it a lead. he looks down at the bologna and the sardine.
...Zhang suddenly notices the small scrap of stamped salami skin trailing from the slice of sausage. "what a goddang minute here" he mutters to himself, this treehuggers got good taste. It's a German sausage! Zhang starts the engine of his car and pulls out and onto the highway to his apartment, it's not much, but a seargent who works 24 seven hasn't much need for home comforts, he boots up his computer and types in sausage+German into google, suddenly his message centre blinks at him "you have one new message", moving the mouse over the link he feels a slight wariness come over him...
If you don't want to end up like the sardine I suggest you meet me at the tp chat room for your instructions at 11 o clock sharp.
The morning was as thick and dark as the night before... The rain continued to pound against the window panes and the thunder would give an low ominous rumble now and again. Isa looked out her window, still hoping for any signs of Fred (remember - her cat), but none were to be found. As she gazed, she contemplated Tway's unusual outburst and hasty retreat during the late hours of last evening. What was up with that?, she thought to herself, It is so unlike Tway to behave so strangely. She's never had a problem with pepperoni before.
Just as Isa decides it was time to brush her teeth and get ready for the day ahead, the postman slips the mail through the slot. "Bills, bills, bills and more bills! Can't someone send me something worth reading? Maybe a post card or letter from some exotic tropical island or even Antarctica?" Muttering to herself as she was known to do frequently, Isa drops the mail on the table in the hall and turns away from her front door. Before she could take her first step, another thud is heard and a manila envelop falls from the mail slot. Isa can't help but look at the envelope in confusion. "The mailman was just here 5 minutes ago. Did he forget this one?" she says aloud. Slowly, she picks it up and opens it. "What the hell?" Inside, she finds several pages from a Lonely Planet guide book (pages 229 - 234) covering the complete section on Madagascar....
Peter could hear Isadora talking to herself inside the house. He walked up slowly and quietly to her door and slipped the package into the mail slot.
Peter chuckled to himself as he ran to his car nearby.
The morning was quiet. Last nights' storm had scoured the air clean. There was a certain familiar fragrance about, a mix of moist foliage and exotic flowers that hung in the warm tropical air, heady and calming. Monkeys and parrots were only just starting to stir after their nights' repose. The aquamarine waters of the lagoon were smooth as glass. There wasn't a sound to be heard, save for the light rustling of a green silk shirt......
The well-chiseled silhouette of....ta da.....BEERMAN.... comes into view, his bare feet gently tippity-tapping in the cool sand. As he sets his 37 liter coffee mug gently in the sand, he slowly removes his trademark green silk shirt. Moving to a rythymn found only in his head, he makes his way to the waters edge. When suddenly......he spies something several hundred yards (3,481 meters) to the north. Tippity-tapping at warp speed toward the object, he begins to realize that the "thing" is a human body, a human "womans" body....Beerman carefully bends over the "woman", pulling bits of seaweed off of her face, and checks for a pulse...."Tippity-tap, tippity-tap...yes, she is alive still...". Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, the woman awakens, screaming "AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH, cough, cough.....Who the hell are you? Where am I? Why are you wearing a green silk Speedo?"
"Excusing me please, wet sandy woman person, I am....ta da....BEERMAN, and you are here where I am finding you on my tropical island hideaway beach place, and I am having my morning swim.....you are not liking green silk Speedo? And who I am asking patiently, are you wet sandy woman you?"
"My name is Samsa......."...but before she could finish, exhaustion overcame her and she fainted face first into the sand.
"Is odd name...Samsa...." Beerman puzzled over why she seemed to be tasting the soft sand.....
(That's great Beerman - now I have an image in my head. I'm trying to work here dammit! )
After a few minutes of thought and a couple litres (45 US Gallons) of coffee BEERMAN gently picked up Samsa and headed inland towards his Chateau El Gato.
Is that really Chateau El Gato?? Or Chateau du Chat... maybe Casa El Gato... Damn, these mixed heritages are confusing... I hope Beerman can figure it out...
...all of the sudden, what else but a dinosaur comes crashing through the tropical brush roaring in a manner enough to soil green silk speedoes. with a look of utter confusion, beerman watches helplessly as the T-Rex comes to a screeching halt in front of him, takes of his monocle, and with an air of importance, says
"Good show old chap! Next time invite Nigel and ill bring the brie." and disappears with a pop.
Beerman stares down at his hilariously oversized mug of coffee for about a minute.
I am never drinking coffee again. ever. he thinks to himself, then looks around, looks down at the passed out samsa, and just walks back to his Gato Chateau.