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Pub under Seige OR The Toilet Saga - Part I
Calliaphone stumbles blearily out of her room and into the kitchen. there is some earnest discussion with Bruce, and then the bingo hall fills with the aroma of sweet fried dough, and cocoa.
Calliaphone emerges from the kitchen with a plate of sugared churros and a mug of thick hot chocolate. still half-asleep, she dips the churros into the chocolate before munching them all up. yummmm.
Calliaphone spies a CCTV camera, and frowns. It doesn't look like one of the Watcher's ones. Ah well. Leaving her empty cup and plate on Prone Santa's midriff, she brushes the sugar off her hands.
Calliaphone is wide-awake now, and ready to be useful! She fetches a bucket of plumber's tools from her cart, and the stolen plunger. Then, rolling up her sleeves, she heads into the lavs to Make Good.
Calliaphone can be heard whistling, and splashing, and hammering. After a while, she reappears, carrying a degraded rubber doughnut -shaped thing in her hands. She hangs a TOILET NOT IN USE sign on the door.
Calliaphone leaves the clan halls, still whistling.
Calliaphone returns, grey-faced and shivering, with chafe-marks on her wrists. She hunkers down by the fireside and tries to warm herself.
Calliaphone is done brooding. She eyes the padlocked liquor cabinet, and sighs. Time for the pub, maybe. Suddenly, her eyes go wide. “Oh My God! The PUB! Who the hell is defending the BOOZER?”
Calliaphone grabs her cart, jumps on top of it, wolf-whistles a warning to the girls downstairs, and pushes off. Gathering pace, she hurtles down and out and into New Home.
Improbable SteamBot g_rock pulls out a trowel and a bucket, and starts plastering over the broom-holes in the walls, with a substance that both is plaster, and is not a mixture of mayonnaise and flour
Improbable SteamBot g_rock has noticed that QQQ has taken responsibility, apparently, for defending CC404 against an unknown menace, and wonders wether we should prepare one outpost for some GERM warfare?
Improbable SteamBot g_rock points on a map to Pleasantville, New Pitt, and Central as the outposts that could use some shoring up. Nobady cares about New Pitt, but Pleasantville's got food and Central's got booze.
Improbable SteamBot g_rock , for one, will protect the boozing establishment at all cost.
Improbable SteamBot g_rock pins up a map, each outpost labelled:
Santa Bernard comes round, head feeling as heavy and as fuggy as a rhino's fart, “What's all this about IC? We've gotta defend it? How? Are they giving us heavy ordnance?”
Improbable SteamBot g_rock pokes his head in, pointing at a calendar to the date a week from today. He then hands over a copy of the Watcher's MoTD, and would point SB to page 450 of the CG echoes
* * * some time later* * *
Rifleman calliaphone returns from Improbable Central. Defences have come on beeyootifully. She turns her attention to the flooded lavs. Troops need working latrines. The hammering and whistling re-commences.
Rifleman calliaphone applies a plunger, a good-as-new rubber seal (courtesy of Asa Comeno), several lengths of pipe, and some colourful language, to the toilets. Soon she is wading about knee-deep in water.
Rifleman calliaphone takes a hammer, and starts hitting random bits of the toilet. The pipes CLANG musically at her. Cordy perks up and starts to harmonise.
Rifleman calliaphone hushes Cordy. “This is no time for singing! We've got an invasion pending and the loos keep flooding.” Vexed, she wallops the pipe with the hammer once more. There is a single, ominous CLANG.
Rifleman calliaphone looks alarmed, her head still ringing. She backs up a pace or two, sploshily. And then, quite suddenly, the toilet flushes. Ever so civilised. And quits leaking.
Rifleman calliaphone 's look of alarm turns to baffled confusion - particularly when the sound of the water rushing through the pipes produces uncanny echoes of Handel's Water Music. Cordy squeaks, delightedly.
Rifleman calliaphone quits trying to figure it out. She mops the water down the stairs, and takes down the TOILET OUT OF USE sign. Mission Accomplished, hurrah!
Logistic Elf 1st Class SinkOrSwim takes the opportunity to deploy his 'special item'. Callia's cart is duly wheelclamped, the evil yellow clamp bright in the gloom of the hall corner. Sink strides off. . .
Improbable SteamBot g_rock continues “plastering” the cracks and holes in the walls left by the broomings. He shudders occasionally.
Generalissimo Santa Bernard stands and points at the bottom bit of the message of the day. “COME ON, SNAP TO IT SOLDIERS!”
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