Sad Motel Lobby
(Faint, sad smile.)
Sure, sure. It's honestly been a long time since we've had guests here, Trottelville doesn't get a lot of out-of-towners...
(Produces a little key on a ring that has a big, yellow nylon flap with the number 14 on it.)
Room 14 is right down the hall, towards the end and on your right. Two beds and a small futon, coffee pot should still be working, as should the TV... If the remote needs batteries or anything, just let me know and I can change them. You all enjoy your stay, alright...?
Grenade and Shit
(The two manage to get out of the way of the explosion, but the shockwave manages to knock Günther on his face.)
(TROMP. TROMP. TROMP. The heavy boots and the jingle of spurs echo through the empty building. A vision of Hell stands in the building's doorway.)
Them Other Fuckers
(...Shit, guys. Sirens approaching your alley you're next to.)
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-Peter is pleased to get to their room, claiming the bed in front of the TV and tossing his backpack down to the foot of it-
Dibs.
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?Hotel Group
(The room is as dingy and sad as the lobby
◊, with a quaint, stout little TV sitting atop a chest of drawers, its bulky remote sitting in the middle of the bedspread.)
(A book sits on the bedside table, looks the Gideons must have left another hotel Bib—... Oh.
◊ Well THAT'S certainly different.)
Smoke on De Ganja
...Aww shit, man, that's awful!
(The scruffy pothead gives Chris the deepest look of sympathy.)
God, I think I'd, like... jump off a bridge if I couldn't toke up, man, that's like the worst thing ever...
(TOOOOOOOKE)
Giant Scary Son of a Bitch
(Gets up with Demotte's help, giving a cool nod and starting towards the window while still holding her hand.)
(But the gargantuan gunman is right in their way, guns trained on both of them, speaking up in a surprisingly soft, yet hateful and cold voice.)
End of the line, kids. Someone important wants you both dead.
(Sona's scythewavery manages to knock the guns out of his hands, but he pauses only for a moment, then lunges in to grab the two youngsters by their shirt collars with his huge, filthy paws.)
Da Popo Be Fast on Yo Ass
(TOO LATE, the cops have come in their cop car, the windows slowly rolling down.)
(The cop in the driver's seat is a fat, cranky-looking old fart
◊ with a big ol' nose and crooked chiclet teeth. He speaks in a Bluto-esque growl as he scowls down at the party.)
Little close to CURFEW fer these kids t' be out loiterin' around like a buncha QUEERS, don't y' think, Officer Blazes?
(In the passenger's seat is another fat cop(?), a cheerful man who looks like Jack Black
◊, except actually black.)
Gosh, Sheriff Cop, it probably is!
make it through this year if it kills you yet | 2001-2019


-Runs after Gunth-
Nodidju!