Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Oh. Lordy.

First contact with (crazy people) restaurant starter-upper-people:
Woman comes around the counter, hugs me. Becomes frustrated when I don't hug back hard enough, goes in for hug #2, saps a little piece of my soul. And tore it to pieces. And threw every piece, into, a fire.

Next contact. Crazy people stay up drinking, partying, and running around the hotel until 5 AM, past when people start waking up and using the gym.

Next contact. Crazy people go to bed early, but let themselves behind the counter while I'm gone for LESS THAN A MINUTE to retrieve booze from the fridge. Thankfully, it is their booze. Heart attack averted.

Next contact. Begin to notice effects of contact with crazy people. Fairly certain soul is being sapped longterm, I shall call it soul poison, -2 hp per round. Crazy people come in drunk, juggle oranges, dropping and hurling them across lobby, try to place them back in basket. When asked for them to be handed back, crazy people instead run them across the lobby and hide them in the breakfast fruit basket, citing that now I can't possibly determine which oranges were horribly maimed.

Most recent contact. Fear for life, only need to survive 4.25 more hours of exposure. One crazy person, accompanied by two crazy people peers, sits on chair in lobby and squishes face matter into a pout. Refuses to move until she gets what she wants. Eventually is convinced to go to room, but peers return. Whispering ensues, and one begins to sob, covered in ritualistically decorative glowsticks, beads, and a feather boa. Peer #2 escorts peer #1 outside to presumably relieve the sprinklers of their tasks for the night. Four more crazy people have inhabited the lobby and are exponentially increasing Soul Poison's effect.

If I don't make it, tell my dog I love her, my cat where the catnip is, and my fiance that he owes me a barbeque chicken pizza.

Signing off.

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