HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR & OKTOBERFEST? BEER AND PUMPKINS GALORE!

[rockinthrutime.livejournal.com]

Who: EVERYONE!
What: Journal Cafe Log.
Where: The Cafe!
When: October 29th.
Warnings: DRUKEN PEOPLE, DEAR READER.

Ahh Friday the 29th! It's not quite like Friday the 13th, but it's the perfect day to have a festival of spookiness and one celebrating German sausages and beer, right? Bob is looking for an excuse to get wasted going to celebrate with a traditional feast!

The destination? The quaint little place that just happened to be owned by Arceus and Kyle also known as 'Monsier Kyle's Cupcakes'. The theater turned cafe, turned theater again for this night, where the stage stood proudly behind black and orange curtains. Candles floated in the air everywhere instead of the usual lights. The tables arranged with tasteful cloth sheets and huge chandeliers hanging from the ceiling (which you couldn't see thanks to a smoke machine (or at least it was hopefully a smoke machine) right above your head. Be careful not to bump your head!

Yet let's not forget that not only is it Halloween Spooktacular, it's also an homage to Oktoberfest! And while you'd think that the thousand of candles would make this place unbelievable hot, it's rather comfortable and cold. In fact that's not what's hot. It's the sausages! The thousands of them! Sausages as far as the eye can see, of all sizes, shapes and varieties from sour to spicy to bacon-filled. Cabbages, sauerkraut and sauces! Knödel (potato or bread dumplings), Kasspatzn (cheese noodles), Reiberdatschi (potato pancakes what do you mean I stole these from wikipedia) exploding from all sides of the kitchen. Oh and Bretzels they're made with real Brets bigger than your fist or even your HEAD! And the Beer. There is beer. EVERYWHERE. BEER. For those who are under the age of 19, we have non-alcohol beverages available (okay okay, it's juice). Grape, Pear, Strawberry, Cherry, you can drink them and pretend you're having an awesome time as the adults and some even almost taste like wine and beer! But really, don't you wish you were 19 like the rest? Hahahaha too bad.

Your waiters are dressed appropriately. But due to the nature of the game, sometime they come out to serve you dressed like this, sometimes, the building gets tired of that and they suddenly have a Halloween costume! You never know what might happen (...and neither do they, admittedly).

MAGICAL THINGS ARE AFOOT. For you see, the minute you enter the building, a fog envelopes you and suddenly! Poof! You're in a Halloween costume! What is it? It's MAGIC! Handy right? Forget having to spend hours for that perfect hairdo, at least tonight you'll be a perfect costume, without regards to budget. It is merely what your imagination. Besides, even someone like Bob is mischievous this time of the year.

There is music playing that changes between traditional German Songs and something a little more Halloweeeny.

Bob herself is dressed up appropriately. Well, you think? She seems to change costumes everytime she talks to someone else or she moves behind a well concealed pole or door. How does she do that? And Kyle seems to be dressed up as some sort of cook. A rather simple costume, it almost fits in the fact they are in a kitchen. What's odd is there are red peppers floating all around him..

As for Flurrie? She is prepared for the night in the only way she knows how. Boobs.

Come on in! Be merry! Enjoy your new costume! Get Drunk! Eat Sausages! Tell Scary Stories! Celebrate! Have Pumpkin Pie!

[OOC - Feel free to start out threads with your dudes doing things if you'd like. Mingle with each other, sometimes there will be special threads like Flurrie's stories to tell after dark, or bobbing for apples, or sausage feasts. Take a seat, let the waiters come to you, Imagine your dudes in the most terrible of costumes!]

Comments

Re: ((SORRY FOR BEING MIA, I AM HERE NOW AH AH AH))

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Ignoring the fact that Mac was himself an American. Well, with a lot of Italian heritage. Must be a foreign thing, foreign competition. He's seen a lot of it. As long as it wasn't out of bitterness, he didn't mind competition between people of any ethnic.

But...hmm, now he was wondering the name himself. "Golli...Naw...uh....Goliath! Yeah, Goliath! That's the guy." His mom had a bible hanging around even though they weren't huge church goers. He had read it sometimes...but not enough to make any dent of religion inside Mac.

[colonelcrotchgrab]

A shame Volgin was a man of many grudges, and he was one to remember even the tiniest of slights (but he needed no justification to satisfy his bloodlust; it was just something more for the prey's ears, if there was one).

"Nh, right. Right. Good boy." He had forgotten if he had a cigar lit or not now, his fingers mindlessly going for a new one whether there was one smoldering away in his ashtray or not. His mumbling continued (perfectly unaware of the bizarre boxer and his name, nevermind that he had a secret fondness himself for the fizzy drink that he would never admit to ever):

"They said 'Go easy on'em'. Don't tell'em I pretended I didn't ever hear a word of spoken English in my life and broke his face. I had a more innocent face then."

He puffed a long stream of smoke, regardless of how Mac felt about it.

"Got me shipped back over, but I would do it again. New York." His voice then edged back down into that perpetual, gruff snarl at the returning creep of his political dogma: "I would go back there, nevermind it is a pit of disgusting Capitalist filth."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Maybe it was the alcohol, Mac wondered. Or maybe the regret of losing a career. New York was him home afterall. Even though city life can be intimidating, it WAS his home and he loved it. Then again, he never told Volgin where he was from. Sounds like Volgin got into a lot of trouble with the big boys...huh.

"I lived in New York all my life, it ain't that bad. Least right now, I dunno when the last time it was you went. But city life can be pretty awesome. But there can be dirtbags in the city, I guess I can understand how you felt...?"

Maybe...but how can you respond well to "broke a face"?

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"It is not what is in the city." The snarl had completely overtaken the nostalgic fondness, if his darkened, narrowed gaze was any indication. "It is what the city stands for, where it is. I despite your country; your country wants to destroy me and my people, and what we have fought for. It wants to continue breaking the backs of the good worker and cast him aside like a rind when he is spent."

Volgin leaned in, his breath hot and heavy with the reek of strong tobacco:

"When I broke his face, I was breaking the face of precious America.

"A beautiful triumph."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Either he was just talking to someone bitter or just someone under the influence. Either way, Mac had zero idea how to respond to this. Volgin looked like a war guy, been through wars and had a bunch of horror stories to tell. And Mac didn't want to hear any of them. What turned out to be a conversation between boxers turned into an awkward one about war and bitter country rivalry.

"W-well...I don't wanna do that. Destroy anyone....And no other person I knew would either. I swear on that..."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

Maybe it was both. Two World Wars and a lifetime of instability while dancing mad through a predatory political climate that almost had him in its teeth (among other things) could do that to you.

Volgin was willing to dominate the conversation, as was his drive to hear himself as relentless as his brutality. He enjoyed hearing himself. He was powerful. It kept him powerful.

A harsh snort.

"Boy, when you finally learn about this world..." A chuckle. "When you learn how to destroy your opposition, you will know the purest victory.

"The only language a wolf can understand is splitting its head open."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Mac didn't like this conversation at all now. In fact, he kind of wanted out of it before it got ugly. He was determined to believe Volgin was just very, very drunk. He went to try to stand up. "Well, I better get back to work before they have my hide. See ya later, Mr..."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

A large hand grabbed Mac's wrist. It was a hard grip.

"Not done. Sit." The cigar bounced as he spoke. "I'm doing you a service. Elders, respect."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Mac probably yelped a little as he was forced back down again. It came from dislike to totally hate in terms of this encounter. "S-sorry, sir, but I just gotta job to do...and..."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"This is your job, boy, and you're doing it." He pulled his cigar out with his free hand to remove the band. His other hand remained firm. "If anyone wants to complain, I will break them in two for you.

"Is that understood?"

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Mac, for some reason, felt like some sort of hostage. He wanted out. So bad. HE WAS DRUNK, HE HAD TO REMEMBER HE WAS PROBABLY DRUNK. Part of the job, yeah. Bars have this thing a lot. But. Maybe to just go along and get it all over with so he could finish the night on a happy note.

"Y-yessir..."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

Poor Mac! Luckily, the younger boxer was allowed the tiniest note of mercy when the battered Soviet creature released him. His predatory gaze spoke for him, that Volgin would not act further physically if Mac did not try to flee. His mind might have been buzzed, but his movements were not. And not everyone here was familiar with military protocol. Some flanks still needed to be nipped to keep the sheep in line. Hm.

"Good."

He eyed him for a moment, as if sizing him up again. Up, and down. His studying motions were not too different from a reptile's. He looked at the menu, then at Mac.

Puff. So small, so under his control now. Volgin was smiling like a crocodile. The smoke and lazy posture might have suggested something draconian instead. It was not pleasant either way.

"Now, your own career... How did you start?"

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Thankfully, Mac didn't think of running away again. While his hand was free, Mac still felt trapped; forced to stay here until Volgin was satisfied with their conversation. Mac didn't look very intimidated anymore as he sat in place relatively quiet until he was spoken to again. For the moment, Mac felt that the boxing kinship was now gone and now he was just trying to be a good waiter and overall person by not causing a problem in the cafe because he didn't feel like conversing with an over seven foot tall man. When he was asked a question, he spoke once more.

That was a tough thing to talk about though considering. Only people he trusts completely are told his life story (unless if you could the accident he made on the journal network when more people figured it out); he hated to talk about it. He didn't feel like spilling the whole story now. So, you get the abridged version. Without all the real sadness and death.

"I was interested in the sport since I was real little. I wanted to be a strong guy who could fight for himself and the folks around 'im, y'know. Growin' up, I saw guys like that on TV and I looked up to 'em. My folks hated the idea and did everythin' they could to make sure I didn't do nothin' with it. But I did. And it took a long time to find a coach but I did that too," he paused. "Started in the league at 17. Youngest guy who joined and I climbed to Rank #3 in the World Circuit...real close to champ. So...I guess you could say I'm nearly there."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

Volgin could sense the aversion, the fear.

Good.

He spent all of his life that he could remember forcing himself on others, domination through terror. That was how he preferred it; it was the purest form of control. Security. Willingness suggested a knife behind the back.

Some people were champions of love and forgiveness. Volgin had decided long ago that he was pure hatred.

He took his cigar, rolling it between his fingers as a thoughtful purr rolled in his large chest. His spit had soaked well into the end.

"Quite impressive.

"I wish to extend an invitation to you to fight me. I'm bored. Not many men can stand up to me. Too many piss themselves before I even raise a finger." A dark chuckle. "Maybe you could make my life interesting again."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Mac was generally a brave and courageous soul, living alone at a young age in the city does that to you. Not too much really terrifies him (his fanclub scares him) and usually runs into things with gusto. But that's not saying Mac couldn't be taken advantage of. He was a nice guy who was eager to please and tries to not cause as many issues as possible. And Mac was giving Volgin that pleasure of control, and he was horribly unaware of that. Mac doesn't know the extent of Volgin's monstrosity either. But you have to be an overloaded idiot to not think by this point Volgin was a terrifying person. Mac just didn't want to cause an issue.

But the sound of a spar perked him up again. He doesn't care how big you are Volgin, he will take up any challenge. "I won't be one of those guys. I'll be happy to take ya on, sir."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

That was just what Volgin wanted. Bravery was a certain cure for boredom; enough cowards already had tried hiding behind the scope of a sniper rifle. He seemed very visibly pleased when Mac sounded his acceptance.

"Good boy. I expect you to demonstrate your international rank. You better not disappoint me."

He sat back then, and motioned with a single wave of his hand.

"Now take my order and you can go."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Phew, Mac felt like he dodged a million bullets. It felt so much better. "I promise ya I won't."

Mac felt it finally safe to get up and reach into his back pocket to get his notebook to write down orders. "Alright, done deal. Whaddya wanna have?"

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"One of your steaks then. The 12 ounce, rare. Let it bleed a little. Forget the fries."

His voice was aged and dismissive now. He needed the satisfaction of pushing his fork into something and watching the cold, old blood seep out.

that's funny because that's how I like my steak

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Well, Mac can appreciate someone who appreciates their meat. Mac was a meat guy himself, though he was very much an omnivore.

"You got it, sir. Twelve ounce steak still mooing. If ya need anythin' else, gimme a holler. Name's Mac."

He will come as long as you won't force a conversation anyway.

I MUST CURIOUSLY ASK: rllly? *does not eat meat! |'3*

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"Bring the damn cow here and I'll make your night interesting."

Volgin was a carnivore, a predator in every way, and he enjoyed the whole process of acquiring it and preparing it. Bought meat could be boring; cold refrigeration and a little foam tray (in a "modern" land of bloated plenty), missing the pulsing warmth and traces of adrenaline of a fresh, steaming kill staining the snow. He had sworn off the strict diet of his childhood, some watery grain paste and whatever char they had supplemented it with, for as long his living state would demand him to eat, piss, and shit. An almost vegetarian diet he later found out, the very word in either language whitening his knuckles from the clenching of his fists. Vegetarianism. What a stupid concept, by people who made themselves more cow-like and docile by such deprivation.

Re: I MUST CURIOUSLY ASK: rllly? *does not eat meat! |'3*

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

((Moving it here to not crowd the subject line ^^: Yes, I like my steak rare. I totally hate it well done. I eat meat but I prefer leaner meat like seafood and chicken; overall, not a humongous fan of beef.))

Mac didn't really respond to that, he just smiled his way and hurried to the kitchen to get his order in. He can probably imagine what it would be like if he really brought a cow but he couldn't do that Volgin, sorry.

He couldn't afford good meat in his early days alone before his career, he got a hold of anything he could. He never starved but since money was so tight, costs were mainly on either his apartment or food. With him being far in his career, home living became easier. Even though Mac wasn't a fan of the fame and the stuff that got out of it. That wasn't why he had a career afterall.