fandomhigh | School Assembly, Friday afternoon, The Auditorium

Before the assembly, The Tick used the same mysterious process that chooses students for the detention lottery for another purpose.

He had written a play. Destiny told him that all the world was a stage and he was but a player, meaning that he was playing the part of someone that got people to play parts that he created. It was very meta.

Anyway, the curtains opened to start the assembly. It was time for The Tick's first play: A Time for Bagpipes.

[OOC: Cast, please handwave getting roped into this as a result of the announcements this morning. It may be a good idea to look at the plottery post to see what I told different people just so you can be better prepared.

Again, I'm very sorry about the last minuteness and the general WTFery of this. Feel free to go nuts, though. This is a play by The Tick that you had at best a couple hours to look over. Things need not make sense have fun. And thank you for volunteering and attempting to make this work!

Oh, and people in the later acts, don't feel obliged to wait for people in earlier acts. Jump in whenever.]

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"Did not!" Yeah, so, what of it? Totally an accident. Totally. She was sticking to that too!

"I was trying to get you off stage before further things got ripped! ANd then they did!"

"Hah! And I am supposed to believe that from an ogling John? Hah! Look at me will you? Just look at me! What are people going to think?"

"That you fill that out nicely?"

She cocked her head, "Are you calling me fatty?"

"Nope. Curvy. That or voluptuous. Whichever one won't get me beat."

Annette looked down and herself. "Oh. I see. Maybe. Uh-huh."

"Yep. Totally. Not that I'm complaining. Cuz I'm not. Just... didn't want you up on stage like that when you had an out. Hell, I didn't want ME up on stage like that."

She giggled a little, "Well it was sort of fun, wasn't it?"

"Oh yah, if you consider being naked on stage in front of the school fun." He managed a grin.

"I wasn't naked. My specific parts were covered thank you very much." She might be showing a little leg, a little cleavage, but that was about it. "And it's so not my fault - whoever made these costumes obviously was in a hurry."

"I think it's just age. Yours didn't rip, the seams just gave way. Hell, the thing's probably fixable, if you know someone who can sew. Mine's atrocious."

She gave him a look, "Like I care about fixing it. Geeze." She did try to pull the bodice more tightly together in front though, if you could imagine that picture.

"Well, I must agree that it's an attractive costume," John said, giving her the once over now that he's not afraid of being mortified or killed by Annette.

She didn't pay attention to the once-over, she was looking down at what was left of her costume mumbling as she fluffed some of the lace on her knickers. "Knickers are a strange piece of clothing."

"They are. You look cute in 'em. Good thing they didn't rip and show your panties underneath. That'd be bad." John scratched his side where the branch tried to get him... and noticed his boxers were torn.

"Did you know that British women call their panties knickers? I knew this. I knew this before I changed into my costume." She gave him a cheeky grin. "Thanks. I just might keep the knickers. And is your side okay and ohhhhhh, you uh, there, right there..." Annette pointed to his boxers, sort of close to his uh, private area. "...it's uh, torn."

"Yeah, if you can't find your clothes, you might be wearing that home. Be a bit cold, though." He grinned, not thinking about what would happen if his own clothes had disappeared.

He looked down. "YEah. I know. Stupid tree. Got snagged. Got my ribs, too." He lifted the side of the costume to reveal some scratches and what would be nice bruises later.

"Yeah, well, I am going to find my clothes. They've got to be here somewhere. I made a nice neat pile of them..."

"Yeah, not sure what happened to mine. Ow." He was poking at the scratches, seeing how bad they were. He couldn't really tell, as the costume was constricting.

"Stop doing that! You're going to make a mess of yourself."

"I'm already a mess. Torn boxers, half a costume, and that stupid tree tried to get me."

Annette plopped herself down in a chair. "I think I'm tired."

"Me too. Being chased by a giant who talks like John Wayne tuckers ya out." He pulls up some errant fabric from... a curtain or something, and makes a nest. "Tired, sore, tired, and sore."

"Dead." Annette lay back. "Wake me when it's over."

Re: After the Show

apocalypsesoon.livejournal.com - 2007-04-07 04:13 (UTC) - Expand