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: lol forget this switching to past tense, i can't write in present to save myself

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Why did they hire servers then if this was going to happen. Like Mac would complain really. It's a job he's done before. His smile didn't fade.

"Well, we could still help you out if there's somethin' else ya need."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"I am a man of many needs." Mac was offered full on eye contact with the giant, scarred Russian, "and varying tastes.

"You ought to be specific, boy."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

What did he mean by that...? Uh, he will think up an answer? Nope, smile's still there. Admittedly...those scars looked kinda cool. Wow. This man must've gone through a lot. But he won't say that in fear of offending his table guy at any way.

"Need somethin' specific to eat?"

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"Get me a menu." A bark, but it was not completely harsh; he had some eye candy and he was not picky about it. "Unless you are looking to orally recite it to me."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

...Upon further inspection, for a couple seconds...he realized finally who he was talking to. Oh gosh, it was him. Mr. Raikov's boyfriend who stripped in art class. The guy who's the size of a darn tank. All the more reason to not tick him off. "Yessir, right away!" And he quickly left. And quickly came back.

"Here you go, sir!"

[colonelcrotchgrab]

Yep, the guy that stripped in art class in a fit of adoration for his Ivan. But let's not talk about that, now that he was feeling that overwhelming adoration misplaced.

A distant growl: "Don't be long."

(And Mac got his assets checked out. The old man was semi-flirtatious through bitterness; guess he could give the school's offerings another look.)

...

Hn?

Oh, he was back again. He curtly slipped the menu away from Mac's hands and took his time.

"Good boy. So prompt of you." His normally gruff snarl was unusually velvety. "Now, will what I order float?"

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

At least he was being pretty nice!...No Mac, you have no idea who you are dealing with. You are pretty dense sometimes. And also, has no idea what Volgin could possibly be thinking, pretty obviously.

"Good to know, sir," he replied. "Well, we got cooks in the back and I could bring ya food the normal way if you'd prefer it like that..."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

Oh, Mac. Yeah... Yeah. Seriously.

"Call me more... conservative then," the Soviet continued with that purr, reaching into his pockets for his reading glasses and taking a suggestively long time doing so. "Combat experience: Don't eat anything that behaves unusually."

And Mac, Mac was not behaving unusually at all.

Hm.

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

He waited patiently for the smelly old man Volgin to finish looking.

He figured Volgin would know combat stuff. Raikov said himself he was in an army. Volgin probably was too.

Unfortunately, Mac would eat food as long it was edible food. And he's seen Bob's floating food trick before last Thanksgiving.

"Good stuff, sir, good stuff. I box, but I dunno if that's the same as the combat you probably do!" Mac assumed. He paused a moment and continued. "If ya want somethin' else to drink, I could go fetch that while ya decide."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"What is floating around will suit me," the giant, setting his menu down, smoothly purred (although with what he saw in Hell and what happened here, he might have been taking the potential dangers of causally swigging questionable floating containers of liquor all too lightly). He gestured to a chair. "Seat yourself; for now, your services will be humoring me."

He narrowed his eyes in interest.

"You said you boxed."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Humoring, huh? What a weird way to put a seat invitation. Oh well, Mac could wait a couple minutes just talking to Mr. Raikov's boyfriend; Volgin was his only table at the moment.

"Sure, I think I can take a little break," he said as he took the chair.

His face brightened up, boxing was Mac's calling after all. "Sure do! I'm in a league for it too!"

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"Good boy." Volgin looked down at Mac, considering him again as his predatory eyes carefully roved. Certainly quite a handsome, young man. He almost might hesitate to crack his knuckles across that jaw in a match...

"A league, eh? Interesting. On what level? Locally, nationally, internationally...?"

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

Not suspecting those eyes doing anything, Mac continued talking. "International. Lots of guys from all over the world are in it."

[colonelcrotchgrab]

"I was in a local league, a champion of the proletariat." A dry chuckle. A thin film of distance clouded Volgin's eyes. "I spent most of my career in Moscow, but at the height of it, I was invited to the United States for an international exhibition.

"They billed me as 'The Beast from the East'. Heeeh. Beautiful."

[boxingmidget.livejournal.com]

"Wow...Beast from the East?"

That was so cool to him Volgin. His face was showing real interest. DOC WHY COULDN'T YOU COME UP WITH SOMETHING THAT COOL. He almost asked if he knew Soda, but stopped himself because he remembered Volgin was from a different Moscow...yeah, that stuff still didn't make too much sense.

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

[colonelcrotchgrab]

Macaroni and cheese I mean.

"The Americans needed a monster." An unphased chuckle. The creeping nostalgia nibbled at his steely, acerbic demeanor; his boxing career had been one of the few times he had been truly happy in his life, he knew that much. The alcohol had loosened his tongue a bit too. Made opening to this kid a little easier (not that self-interrogation while sober was out of his character). "Them and their fascination with that... Bible story. What was it. David and... "

He motioned, the name on the tip of his tongue.

"David and... Nhn. It escapes me." When Volgin was a boy, growing up during the Revolution, the Bible had served as fine kindling for the long, dark Russian winters. Desperate, idiot preachers that he captured had tried to reach them with the hollow, stupid promises of their imaginary deity, but his fists made short work of their faith and bones all the same.

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..."