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Who: Lup (

ohnehalfte), and possibly you!
What: Drunken party of drunkenness and shenanigans
When: Nov 17th, mid-day until everyone passes tf out
Where: Islet #2 aka Trash Island, somewhere out in front of cottage 1 and along the beach
Warnings: Drunk people, swearing, ill-advised people hitting each other with sticks, questionable food, drunken cuddles and crying, etc, etc tbc when there's more

Welcome to Islet 2! There are many reasons for you to be here right now. Maybe you live here. Maybe you're visiting someone who lives here. Maybe you've been invited to this sick party by one of the above idiots. Maybe you were just passing by and got dragged into the festivities. Who cares, really? You're here now!

Out in front of Cottage 1 there's the beautiful banner that you see above hanging on the outside, lovingly crafted by one of the twins. The twins have also lovingly crafted some vodka using magic and potatoes. Potato magic. And hey! There's also stuff that the twins cooked! Like potato tornadoes, fried shark genitals and Fantasy Kentucky Fried Pterax! And other food! And there's a fire! And activities! And drinking!

Mainly drinking. In fact, there is a large cooking pot that, at the moment, is full of the most moonshine-iest vodka you have ever had. There are empty halves of coconut shells to serve as cups, as well as some clay cups that may or may not have come from an interesting source. So help yourself! Who knows how long it'll last, considering the amount of guests. Heck! It might even be repurposed later, after all the vodka is gone! So drink up.

Anyway, feel free to join in on the festivities! There will be several threads for activities where people can mingle, or you can start your own. Have a party, chill out, and/or imbibe ill-advised substances to try and forget that you died. Wheeeee!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Mother of Mew, Mickey, it's still early... Has no one taught you to pace yourself and eat between the hard liquor? I mean, Guzma is a bit concerned, because booze of this caliber could actually do some damage to those that don't know how to, uh...hold it down, but it doesn't look like Mick's in any actual danger. Guzma has been eyeing the mouse after his first mouthful, his own drink and meal in hand.

...No lie, he's sort of into this little dairy-share, though. He knows he should stop the bloke before he spills it all, but. Hey, he consistently tells people he's no where near a good or even a decent individual. They should expect this. With a crooked grin, he gnaws a bit of grilled meat and takes a swig of his drink to wash it down.]

Dang, homie...the prettiest girl? [Do tell.]

[Of course no one has taught him these things! Anyway, Mickey continues to ramble, even flailing a little as he does.]

The PRETTIEST girl! She's got like these big beautiful eyes that are like prettier than any paintings or flowers anywhere! And you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do! I'm gunna tell her that! I'm gunna tell her how pretty she is! Because she deserves to know how pretty she is!

[Guzma snickers softly, handing Mickey some of his food, because lord knows he needs it to dim some of that alcohol racing through his system right now. It'll kill the buzz, and maybe something that's not booze to water it down - poor guy is going to be dehydrated, and have one hell of a hangover tomorrow morning if he's not drinking plenty of uh...not alcohol. Surely there's water or fruit juice or something here.]

Here, to your future marriage, bro!! Congrats! Gotta feast to get up your strength to ask the dame out, yeah? Go 'head and fill up.

Thanks, Guzma!

[And he's not only going to chow down, but also going to speak with his mouth full, because proper manners are also a thing that has not been taught to him.]

I'd ask you to be my best man, but I gotta choose between Donald or Goofy... can a guy have two best men? I already have two best friends.

[By all means, Guzma is no gourmet - he's a slob, a punk, and knows full well Mickey is perhaps one drop away from blacking out in the sand. Guzma's just glad he's got enough coherency to put the food in his mouth and (hopefully) keep it down.

...He's taking a step back, just in case.]

Wha--huh? [Guzma snorts loudly, waving his hand and losing his snarky demeanor for a moment.] Bro, I got no dang clue. Never been to a wedding and never plan to get hitched. But, uh...I'm honored? I guess?

[Was this what it was like when Kukui got the ball and chain? Lord, he could see that big, bleeding heart go goo-goo over his broad like Mickey is.]

Me neither! I don't know anything about weddings... except that I want one! And it's gunna be grand! You're all invited! Except the gorillas. No gorillas unless they play nice.

[He wobbles on his feet, probably a good couple of minutes from blacking out.]

[He barks out a laugh for a moment - oh man, that'd be, uh...a shotgun wedding for sure. Literally, perhaps. Once Mickey starts wobbling, though, Guzma reaches out to steady him, so he doesn't take a spill too hard if he does happen to black out. Easy there, killer, this may be sand, but it's compact and still hurts to smack into.]

Yeah, uh...I think that'd be for the best. Stick to family and friends, yeah? Now tell me more 'bout the broad--I mean, bride.

[Mickey gets his balance back thanks to Guzma... yet doesn't seem to be realizing he was even falling in the first place.]

I'm her bodyguard, so, so, that means I'm supposed to be with her anyway all the time! Some bad guys tried to kidnap her, and we kicked their butts! ... The second time!

[Poor Mickey...Guzma wonders if he should just let the little guy rest, but hoo boy, that hangover is going to be killer, given how blasted he is, so dialing it down is for the best. Get some food and water in him to absorb that alcohol. Then he can pass out all he wants.]

Tch, s'the fate of most princesses... [Guzma grabs a glass from a passing person, sniffing the contents, taking a careful sip, and shoving it at Mickey. It's just juice, thank god - probably for any kids that wander by.] Always in another castle or whatever. Get ready to chase her trousers up through heck and high water, homeboy.

[And Mickey chugs down all the juice in one gulp.

... Which may give Guzma an indication of what Mickey did with all the booze.]

I can do it! Sure, we messed up the first time, but we got it better the second time! So if it happens again, we'll do it perfectly! I'd go through any trousers to find her trousers!

[... wait, even he seems to realize that's not right.]

[Mother of Mew...so that was it. Gods, if there's one way to get plastered real fast, it's taking shots of hard liquor without reservations. Poor Mickey, there's little left Guzma can do to help you other than steer you away from anymore drinks and drag your sorry backside to bed once the dizziness because unconsciousness.

...Wait what. Oh my god. Oh my god.]

Pffft--! [Guzma snorts, then throws his head back and erupts with laughter, smacking his knees as he doubles over with his head between his legs. Wow...wow.] DANG, MAN, DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU!

[Wheezing, Guzma clears his throat and fingerguns at his little friend, a villainous grin on his face.] Get it, homie.

Wait - no, no, that's not what I meant! I meant - I meant some of that other stuff, but this, I didn't...

[OH NOOOOO - he's flailing, spilling whatever food and drink he's got because even as drunk as he is he knows HE JUST SAID THE EXACT WRONG THING TO THE EXACT WRONG PERSON OH GOD]

Guzmaaa! Stop it!

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