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Cafeteria | Afternoon | Thursday | November 25

It was Thanksgiving Day. It was time for parades, football and food. Currently, Alex was leaning against one of the walls in the kitchen, watching the catering company set up for dinner. There was a shitload of food and his stomach growled just watching.

It was good to be president. He got to delegate everything.

When one of the caterers stepped forward and thrust a plastic wrapped garment bag in his hand, Alex frowned.

"What?"

"Outfits for the dinner," the caterer said. "The contract states that we make and you serve the food. No fulfillment of the contract, no food."

Confused, Alex unzipped the bag and peeked inside. The costume was not cool at all.

"Are you serious?" Alex asked, glaring. "No way!"

"No costumes," the caterer said, already signaling his workers to get ready to package the food up, "no food."

Alex continued glaring at the caterer and the costume. He hated his life.

[OCD is up and this is posted early for SP, of course!]

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Could it possibly be the guy who didn't eat, standing there with a full plate in one hand, and empty spoon in the other, looking at her with a smirk in his eyes?

Oh, yes. There was a good chance of that.

Oh. Oh, it was on.

Because George had snagged some candied yams, only to discover that she really didn't like candied yams. But they certainly seemed to be a nice combination of mushy and firm that would make for a good projectile, if aimed at the bridge of her roommate's nose.

... Were those sweet potatoes, flying at Jono at high velocity? Why yes, yes they were! And dear lord, they had marshmallows in them, didn't they?

Jonothon did all that he could do, really. He ducked, though barely fast enough. The gloop in question streaked through his hair, which he was now regretting wearing up today, and then splatted against a well.

Oh, George. You had better believe that it was on. Because this piece of turkey, smeared with gravy as it was? Flew rather nicely when thrown like a Frisbee.

The problem with ducking was that you missed out on a prime chance to retaliate, and that gave your opponent the advantage. At least if you overthought food fights, anyway, and why not?

George moved slightly out of the way, though not nearly far enough. She didn't mind the thump of turkey hitting her shirt, just below the shoulder. Not when she could load up cranberry sauce and fire!

Silly George! Fire was Jono's specialty!

Not that he was going to use that to his advantage here, though that would certainly give him a bit of an edge here, wouldn't it? No, he was going to take the cranberry sauce to his chest like a man.

Which translated, more or less, to 'Jonothon had given up on slinging things with a spoon, and had now just grabbed more potato by the handful to throw George's way.'

Enjoy that!

Silly Jono. Spoons gave better range. Flinging by hand resulted in too much being left in a trail along the floor.

And now she had to get creative. She'd thrown yams, she'd gone for cranberry sauce, and she wasn't about to give up any of her stuffing. That happened to be really good, and would probably run out quick, so she was saving it for eating, thanks.

Corn, however? Corn was all kinds of fun to load up and let fly. Sure, plenty of it also went onto the floor, but it made such a fun arc getting there!

She absolutely needed to dump some candied yams into his bed, later. The perils of having a food fight with your roommate: the food fight didn't have to end when dinner did ...

Oh, George. If he ended up with food in his bed, it would be your own fault when the room started to smell like somebody burned dinner.

Her corn barrage bounced off his jacket with a bunch of little piff sounds, and he gave his hand a shake to dislodge some of the potato that was clinging to his fingers.

Well. If she was going to be that way, then he was going to sacrifice some stuffing. After all, he wasn't going to be eating any of it.

It was kind of fascinating, the way it managed to cling together in a blob like that while it sailed through the air toward her.

"Hey!" she said, with an attempt at sounding stern. The giggling probably undermined that, George. "No using the good food."

Which was why she was going for the green beans. No one would miss those. Although they weren't all that satisfying in a food fight, either.

Way to suck, green beans.

//Well, if I'm throwing it at you, yer more than welcome to try and rescue it,// Jono shot back, because that seemed like a better thing to point out than the fact that he had no idea which of this food was good, and which wasn't. He didn't even know whether or not the turkey was dry, and that was sad.

...

Oh well! More peas for George!

George had meant in the more general sense, in the way that gravy was good and vegetables were bad. But her train of thought was derailed by the opportunities that presented.

"I doubt you could hit my mouth from here," George dared, sticking it wide open.

... after the peas went past, naturally. No use getting a mouthful of peas for science.

//Mmm, I think I could,// Jonothon mused.

Really, all he had to do was throw something that had a decent splatter zone, in the general direction of her face. That shouldn't be too difficult.

//Any requests?//

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Cafeteria | Afternoon | Thursday | November 25

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