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C#... CSharpa... C#...
Oh I get it...
C# programming language and C# musical note. lol.
Anyway, could I have some root beer?
Here you go: A fermented mix of carrots, garlic, ginger, taro, and ... I think that might be a kudzu tuber? Anyway, it's made with a lot of different kinds of roots, so drink up. Chances are it won't kill you ... but it might clean out your intestines.
Brocklandia, Elite leomonade, and Reuters nation
Eh, I'll be fine. Thanks for the drink.
Brocklandia and Reuters nation
G'day
Brocklandia, Elite leomonade, and Reuters nation
Polishes the tables.
Yikes, what's with my region's embassy office being flooded? In fact I think I- gets crushed by huge boxes filled with embassy requests
Aren't you lucky! Your region must be packed with stuff everyone wants, like valuable uranium, platinum, or Miley Cyrus CDs.
No, wait--Cyrus is Canadian. Must be the uranium or platinum.
But since you're incapacitated under all those boxes, I'm sure you won't mind if I root through your regional treasury, just while we wait for the rescue workers to arrive.
No words, since I'm already dead
Being "vitality challenged" never stops anyone here. We have dozens of dead and undead things loitering around the premises, maybe even hundreds depending on how many Zombie ducks and Zombie Penguins are here at any given time. You'll fit right in.
We have around 500 ghost zombie ducks and Danielle decaying on the table.
Do you, uhm, need more Pine-Sol to deal with the smell?
Update: the poetry contest prompt thing was a joke.
The prompt is "whatever you want" and "a ballad".
And it always was. Good day.
No, I like the smell. Mm, decomposition!
*Getting a .44*
Be it man or demon. Let god decide.
*B A N G*
Of course.
The shadow silently slides the tip over to Zombie Penguins.
Wheels a trolley through with 10 gallons (US) of Brain bleach from the truck outside, and puts them in the supply cupboard.
Sprays, cleans, and polishes the RMB.
Hey!--Don't kill our staff or customers. We have only so much room in the meat locker, and so far their natural death rate has been fast enough to keep Cheffy happy, without you speeding up the supply rate. It's the logistics, dammit!
I’m sorry, but I am a ghost. That went right through me. I hope it didn’t hit anyone…
Hmm. Looks like it ricocheted off the cash register, barely missed an escaped lunch special, and embedded in the wall next to the sign-up sheet for the stomach pumps. So, no one was hit. We'll have to wait and see whether the special decides to sue you two for psychological trauma.
Hmm, what's that noise?
Only 10 gallons? That's hardly enough to get us through the next hour. Where did you put the rest of the shipment? Don't tell me we've used it already.
Uhm, nothing. Certainly not a hungry Spaghetti Monster sneaking up behind you, or the souls of the damned practicing in the supply closet for their next Eurovision appearance. Nope, not those things at all. By the way, are you a tenor?
Zany Zanes, Elite leomonade, Thick-Billed Longspur, and The cantina band
Welcome to the Bar, Miss Chief. Sit anywhere you like. Our bartenders, if you can ever get their attention, can make you pretty much anything you want, so just shout out your order. Here's a complimentary bowl of pretzels for you to munch in the meantime.
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