WW XXXIV - Wolf Island - ISLANDERS WIN

There are worse ways to spend the time, but not many.

Postby hideaki anno's cool world » Thu Mar 23, 2017 9:20 pm

After an evening game of gilded chair croquet, Mr. Poots summons Tabitha and Clarissa.

"Dears, we have a lot of thinking to do. Why don't we stroll down the boardwalk and see if we can't fetch up one of our local favs for dinner?"

As the three move down the boardwalk, Mr. Poots spots a dinghy headed out to the ocean. He has his suspicions, and knows he should resist the urge, but he pulls out his binocs anyway.

"Jizzads! It's that Dumbles. Oh, how I'll miss him. But at least he got his boat. As if a Dogg could wield a club. Fools. I told them."

But Mr. Poots has a sudden realization: "JIZZADS! That means that shady bartender will surely be getting me shitfaced, and probably on the house! Huzzah!"

Mr. Poots gives a stern salute and Tabitha and Clarissa march on, Mr. Poots, high upon his chair, casting a misshapen silhouette against the waning sun.

"Jizzads! My flask!"
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Postby hideaki anno's cool world » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:19 pm

A thunderous fart echoes across the island.
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Postby can't » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:21 pm

Gilded chair croquet is sick
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Postby hideaki anno's cool world » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:29 pm

* Explanatory Note: Gilded chair croquet is identical to regular croquet; however, when one has gout of the sort of Mr. Poots, mobility can be an issue. Thus, in "gilded chair croquet" one's beach bunnies carry the gilded chair to the ball, after which the gentleman may make his play while seated. There is also "normal chair croquet" for poor folk, but they generally are missing limbs and such, and drag their chairs behind on a rope as they pathetically claw their way from one place to another.**



** Editor's Note: It is quite a disgusting sight.
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Postby Casimir » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:35 pm

The journalists don't even bother writing a check tonight. They've been burned so many times before and are frankly running out of cash.

They're at the bar. He sees the local legend, the grom, the bartender serves a beer, a potter, a glass blower, and a few islanders. He sees a creepy guy playing with the wires in the back.

The lights go off and the journalist immediately curses not brining a bag of cash. He acts quickly, runs to the ATM to approach one of the young people at the bar. But he's stopped by an old surf pro.

"My sponsorships are all dried up. I smoked that joint two nights ago with your money but I could use some myself."

The journalists eyes light up. They make an agreement that the magazine will cover the local legend's expenses for the rest of his life.

Can't was bribed. He was the Local Legend.

He continues to surf until this day.

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Postby hideaki anno's cool world » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:36 pm

As Mr. Poots fades into sleep, he sees hazy visions of a Dogg telepathically steering a dinghy.

"The lone and level sands stretch far away."

Mr. Poots heavy lids gently fall, and he does a small tinkle in his pants.
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Postby Geoff » Thu Mar 23, 2017 10:44 pm

pootis
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Postby VHB » Fri Mar 24, 2017 12:12 am

Von Ho Balanced thinks every vote is going to count today. Therefore:

Can't
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Postby Geoff » Fri Mar 24, 2017 3:28 am

kitfox
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Postby bigcat » Fri Mar 24, 2017 8:23 am

Not as a whale: I'm sorry yall. I probably shouldn't have played this game, this week is insane for me workwise.

As a whale: kitfox
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Postby Casimir » Fri Mar 24, 2017 10:07 am

The day is going to be a short one today. Please submit all votes by 4 PM.
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Postby kit fox » Fri Mar 24, 2017 10:11 am

sorry pootis :(
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Postby VHB » Fri Mar 24, 2017 11:43 am

Pootis
galactagogue wrote:i usually just assume no one is into me, it makes it easier to be myself.

Suspension Bridge wrote:Werewolf was the best thing to happen to me in 2015 and that includes my wedding

Kenny wrote:If you can remmeber any conversation with a cashier 30 seconds after you had it you're doing it wrong
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Postby grouchypants » Fri Mar 24, 2017 11:57 am

pootis
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Postby rap and country » Fri Mar 24, 2017 12:49 pm

pootis
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Postby bigcat » Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:48 pm

Whiskey shot for the road, pootis? said the friendly whale sadly, blowing bubbles as she sank back under the dock.
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Postby hideaki anno's cool world » Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:55 pm

Mr. Poots farts loudly at VHB.

Why, I work my ass off to keep this island moving for a fucking week, and you silence me when a decision has already been made? you deny me my final words?

Mr. Poots finishes the very last fish taco left at the Anchor Inn, marches into the ballroom with an eerily regular stride, and mounts the stage in the ballroom.

Time to listen up, fuckos.
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Postby VHB » Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:02 pm

It's more that I didn't want to silence Geoff, because I wanted to see what he did and how quickly he did it.

And now we all have
galactagogue wrote:i usually just assume no one is into me, it makes it easier to be myself.

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Postby hideaki anno's cool world » Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:30 pm

Mr. Poots removes his monocle, wig, make-up, and fat suit. He is obviously not 69 years old.

Motherfuckers, I killed the Captain, but I did not kill the deputy. But I did kill the first mate, you groveling shits. I could give fuck all for your island life. I thought it would be a nice respite from my fintech job in New York, but my first night here - MY VERY FIRST FUCKING NIGHT - Ankh and Jimmy Firecracker, the latter probably hopped up on goofballs ("I'm Jimmy Firecracker and I'm driving a boat - fucked up!"), were speeding through the night in their trawler, their unruly wake snapping the real Mr. Poots' - my great, great-grandfather - longboard, which was bequeathed to me upon reaching puberty.

And then - to treat the Dogg like much less than even an animal when he was clearly innocent. To not even give him a boat, to expect him to doggy paddle across the ocean (where do you think the dinghy came from? My pockets, you poor hippies). You people disgust me, and I am glad that I will return to New York a free man - for not even your deputy cares enough about this shitrock to not run off at the slightest hint of money and fear. Nor your "Local Legend", a man that, if put on the waves with me, would be left choking on brine.

Pootis removes a plastic clown flower from his pants.

I never pissed myself, it was all a ruse. But let it be known that every last fart was genuine, that my shit, the shit of the man that killed your leaders, will forever be wafting through your respiratory systems. Even if it's just a molecule, a single molecule, you will breathe my shit until the last of your days - and may they be many, and may you remember that you carry the ass of the man that killed your pathetic "leaders" in a matter of days, that would still be among you enacting his revenge were it not for a stroke of bad luck in his refusal to accept inferior lodgings, unlike you Woolf Campground and Seafoam trash, inside of you to your very last.

Pootis kicks his gilded chair off the stage

Tabitha, Clarissa, you served me well, and I bear you no ill-will. Keep the chair (it's real) along with your satchels of money. You've earned them, and I am sorry for betraying your trust.

As for the rest of you - rest assured that I'll be fine in my penthouse summoning prostitutes and Whistlepig like a sordid magician, the white face powder replaced by something far more stimulating. And rest assured that you will never step foot on these beaches again without remembering the blood that has fed them.

Pootis farts and scampers off the stage and out to the docks.

So long, fuckos! And remember!

pootis wrote:
VHB wrote:Things sure got easier for the Psycho Killer, ya?


Qu'est-ce que c'est?


Run run run run, run run, run away.

Pootis drops a small origami crane at the end of the dock and hops in his boat

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As the befuddled crowd by the docks tries to process this strange scene, a small boy picks up the meticulously crafted crane, and, brimming with curiosity, unfolds it. There is only a single word upon it, in an impeccable script, drafted with an obviously fine pen.

"Jizzads!"
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Postby VHB » Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:33 pm

So you didn't like the tacos then?
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Postby Casimir » Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:36 pm

The day is over.

Mr. Poots has left the island of his own free will. He was the Psycho Killer.

Please submit all night actions.
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Postby hideaki anno's cool world » Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:37 pm

A series of horn blasts sound from Pootis' boat as he drives away. A veteran recognizes them as Morse Code.

"T-H-E T-A-C-O-S W-E-R-E G-O-O-D A-S H-E-L-L A-N-D I A-T-E E-V-E-R-Y L-A-S-T O-N-E I-N T-H-E I-N-N J-U-S-T I-N T-I-M-E F-O-R S-O-M-E P-A-R-T-I-N-G W-O-R-D-S"
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Postby Casimir » Fri Mar 24, 2017 2:42 pm

Also, it seems that Mr. Poots has eaten this island out of tacos.

The fish tacos are hereby suspended as an item.
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Postby Casimir » Fri Mar 24, 2017 3:57 pm

Dawn is approaching. That would make this pre-dawn. It's pre-dawn and last night we had some action. Stuff happened, like at least one thing happened, and now I'm going to tell you what it is.

Kit Fox was bribed. He was an artisan.

It's day. If you guys vote fast enough we can get another cycle in quickly.
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Postby rap and country » Fri Mar 24, 2017 4:11 pm

Laserblast
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Postby kit fox » Fri Mar 24, 2017 4:23 pm

ooOOooOoooOoo fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, im a sellout oooOoOoOOOOOOooooo
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Postby grouchypants » Fri Mar 24, 2017 4:51 pm

Petal is getting very depressed. Her islands friends are all turning out to be turncoats bribed by the journalists. She doesn't understand why. Don't they like it here? Why would they do that? At least that raving psycho is gone. Petal feels safe going out her front door again.

So safe, in fact, that she thinks it's time to engage in her fourth favourite passtime, behind yoga, sailing Mabel, and deep sea fishing with Jeff probst. Golf. Petal loves golf! She rounds up her clubs and heads out to the range. She starts out on the driving range, then she practices putting, and then she goes for a round a mini golf. And then the big kahuna! She golfs a full 18 holes! She's not very good, but that's not the point. It's relaxing, and cathartic.
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Postby grouchypants » Fri Mar 24, 2017 5:15 pm

Petal is a doofus. She forgot to bring golf balls on her golfing excursion!

Petal heads back to the range after fetching her golf balls. Now shes all ready!

She puts down her tee. She places the golf ball on the tee. She gets her club (driver, an iron, a wood, a putter - she has them all). She swings and......fore!!! It goes sailing overhead! It's a hole in one! Petal even wears her lucky golf hat and funny pants for luck.
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Postby grouchypants » Fri Mar 24, 2017 5:32 pm

Petal is so tired. She doesn't think she is going g to be able to make it through this day. She needs something to perk her up! Something to lift her spirits. Wait! What is that she hears? Island music? Is that....drums?? Kettle drums??? Djembe drums??? Singing??? Dancing??? It is! Petal joins in. She loves music, especially island music andnisland drums. She loves all things about being in the Caribbean.

Petal leaves the drumming. Now she's hungry. Where should she go? I know! The ice cream parlor! It seemed like a perfect spot to people watch. She makes he way there. She buys a huge ice cream cone! Two scoops. One chocolate, one strawberry. She digs in. Delicious.

Once finished her ice cream Petal heads down to the dock in the harbour. She sees all of the fishermen coming in for the day. They've got their fishing nets and all of their prized bluefish. It's been a good day for them. At least it has been for someone.

Last but not least for the day Petal decides to take in some surfing. She's pretty terrible at it, but at least she tries. She paddles out on her board, and tries a few small waves. Success! She feels like she's flying!

Finally Petal heads home in her truck. There is no better way to cruise around the island. Petal plans to cuddle up in her room with a travel magazine, and watch the stars. She loves to gaze out her window at the sound. She also may try to find something on TV. She thinks there's a Bill Paxton movie on. She finds it! This say is looming up! Petal thinks she will have a beer.
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Postby VHB » Fri Mar 24, 2017 7:37 pm

Why didn't the jr. bodyguard protect the vocal artisan and why didn't the bartender block the suspected journalist
galactagogue wrote:i usually just assume no one is into me, it makes it easier to be myself.

Suspension Bridge wrote:Werewolf was the best thing to happen to me in 2015 and that includes my wedding

Kenny wrote:If you can remmeber any conversation with a cashier 30 seconds after you had it you're doing it wrong
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