all that glitters is gold [AFTERPARTY]

[sixfingeredstan]

[It's been a very long, and very upsetting morning, and honestly, Ford is feeling goddamn drained. All the events of the day have hit him like a ton of bricks. And as much as he wants nothing more than to sleep for about a week...well. There's work to do.

After talking it over with Fiddleford, his first mission is hitting the kitchen and scraping together all the eggs, potatoes, and onions he can find. It takes him a good few hours, but eventually he's got five big casserole dishes full of kugel, steaming hot, fresh out of the oven. He stacks up a big pile of plates, forks, and serving utensils and carries it all into the lounge in trips.

Next is the business of the still. Between the two of them, the two Fords manage to get it into the lounge and set it up on a table where it's easy to access. Ford also pilfers a big glass jug of apple juice for the kids and puts it nearby. All the adults are free to partake of a cup of Fiddleford's sugar shine. They'll be needing it, tonight.

Lastly, are the notes. Ford writes them all out in his neat, block lettering, and slips one under each door—pausing at the doors of the deceased with a sad frown each time.

The lounge is quiet while they wait for everyone to arrive, save for the sounds of banjo music....

Comments

[whistlenotchirp]

Britishmen al-always hunting people or animals or donkeys or whatever they want. Don't trust 'em. They already got cheetah skin rugs and whatnot.

[why are you telling her this]

[capulion]

E-Excuse me?

There is a species of animal that keeps skin trophies?

[whistlenotchirp]

I know. They're disgusting! Their dumb hats and teeth and [Hic] murder sprees across the world! Makes me sick.

[capulion]

Murder sprees...?

[You are not coherent right now, bug dude.]

[whistlenotchirp]

Th-they take boys and they-they- and when they're done with that they- and THEN....

[I guess he's sitting down and having a drunk breakdown now?]

God I hate the britishmen

[capulion]

Ooohkay Mister Cricket let's take a deep breath and have a sit-down...

[You're getting hysterical and no longer making any sense.]