Day/time: Tuesday, August 6th, 12:04am
Location: Diane's room at the hospital
NOTE: This is a dream that Diane Echelbarger is having. It has
no basis in virtual reality.
Hallucinatory Time : 11:57pm
The party was really swinging now — literally, actually. It's a good thing the Raven's chains were securly fastened to the ceiling beams, considering the number of people who were hanging from them. Also swinging from them — not to mention falling off them...
"Oof!" Tracy said as she landed — yet again — on her perky little ass. "Those things are harder to hang onto than they look like!" she complained as Screed helped her to her feet.
"Oy, don't you be worryin' yor pretty l'il 'ead 'bout that, sweet-cakes," Screed said, winking mischieviously. "Why don'ts you and I go 'ave a lit'le drinkie, 'ey?" And the two wandered off toward the bar, with Screed's gloved hand firmly planted on Tracy's perky butt. Vachon danced by with Diane draped over him, but he just raised a shaggy eyebrow and said, "Whatever!" as they continued to waltz by. Which was an odd thing, since the music playing was a tango.
Maureen was having a grand old time. Once the Natpackers had found a boutique that the Raisinettes hadn't completely gutted, she'd found the perfect gown. A floor-length, dark green velvet with a scooped neck, it hid the things she wanted hidden, and revealed the things she wanted revealed. What more could one want from a party dress?
She lifted an eyebrow at the bartender, and he obliged by bringing her another glass of red wine. She raised the glass, and the group of people standing around her raised theirs also — Amy aided slightly by Jennie, since she'd started drinking so much earlier than anyone else, and was correspondingly more plastered than the rest — and waited for Maureen to propose her toast.
"To all those who make Forever Knight a thing of beauty and a joy forever: the fans! Long may they wave!" Everyone cheered and drank, then waved. "To all those who sank Forever Knight like a bloated body in the East River: The Powers That Be! Long may they rot!" Everyone cheered louder, drank again, then blew a loud, wet raspberry.
"To all those who think they know how to have a War, but actually have less of a clew than a pink-striped wombat: Everyone but me!" said another voice. The crowd cheered even louder and drank again. So, it was insulting — was that any reason not to drink to it?
Maureen turned and peered blearily at the two figures standing behind her. "Maddog?" One of them smiled at her, and handed her a photo. She looked at it. Oh, yeah, another picture of the NatBear... She blinked, unable to quite make out what the pig was doing to the bear in this photo, then gave it up. She looked at the other woman. "Rastro?"
"Oi!" the Lunatic Lurker(tm) said.
"What are you two doing here?" the dipso redhead said, looking like she was having a hard time focusing on the Lurkers. Finally, she placed one hand over her left eye, and that seemed to help. "You're not supposed to be in this War."
"Wot? Are you daft? It's a dream, you silly git! Of course I can be here!" Rastro powered up her portable tessaract, reached in, and pulled out a glass filled with a flourescent blue liquid. She drank half of it in one swallow, then belched with apparant satisfaction. Maureen shuddered. How anyone could drink awful concoctions like that was beyond her. She took another swig from her large wine glass of Merlot.
"So, how is the War without us, anyway?" Maddog asked, reaching past her fellow Lurker to pull a large glass of something lime-green out of the tessaract.
"Dreadful. Awful. Not nearly enough silliness. Why, not a single person in this war has had anything poured on them! No Ribena, no blood, no tapioca pudding, nothing, nada, zilch." Maureen pouted, then brightened. "But the cotton candy was quite nice."
"Cotton candy? Where?" Maddog said, looking around as if it must be there and she'd just missed it.
"...and not one exploding car," Maureen continued, oblivious. "It's a long-standing War tradition that at least one car gets blown up in each War. How can we (hic!) have a war without an explosion?" Maureen pouted again, and Rastro took pity on her.
"Here," she said, reaching into the handy-dandy-every-home-should-have-one tessaract, and pulling out a large firecracker, handed it to the red-headed Natpacker — something that anyone but a Lurker would know is an extremely dangerous, if not criminally negligent, thing to do.
Maureen held the large bright-red firecracker, wondering how this would help, when she suddenly noticed the party decorations on the tables. Every table had a flower and ballon centerpiece, and at the center of the confection was a miniature replica of The Caddy — six inches long, and the exact shade of teal-turquoise-blue/green/whatever. Her eyes lit up, and so, shortly, did the firecracker...
It made quite a nice explosion in the middle of the dance floor. Little bits of miniature green-blue Caddy sprayed all over the room. Amazingly, not a single person was hit by them. (It's a dream!)
Maureen was so happy she kissed Nick. She enjoyed that so much she then kissed LaCroix. At that point the entire party joined in, and soon everyone was kissing everyone else, and the room resounded with smack after smack. Sadly, this revelry ended abruptly when Vachon kissed Perry, and Tracy, jealous, chased the vamp-dog around the room and out the door.
When the dancing started again, Dianne swung past her on the dance floor, and Maureen called out "goldfish!" to her. Dianne immediately lost 75 IQ points, and started chattering animatedly to her partner, Will. "Like, this is the most rad party! Except, like, those totally grody things over there," she said, blinking at the Ravenettes lounging against the bar, dressed in their customary black. "Like, don't they know that chokers are, like, so past passe? Like, clueless to the max! Totally!"
Maureen smiled happily, and took another drink, then joined the bunny-hop line that was passing her. She inserted herself in the line behind LaCroix, pushing Jill aside easily, as the brunette Natpacker was completely mesmerized by the view of the butt before her. Putting her hands on LaCroix's waist she hopped in time to the music, enjoying the fine view she had of his perfect posterior. Forward, back, hop! hop! hop!
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