The Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut

[TerranC]

*TerranC surveys the extent of the destruction, sighs, kneels down for dramatic effect and begins to say:*

You bastards! You blew it up! Damn you! Damn you all to hell!

*TerranC then gets up and proceeds to wander this desolate planet of the destroyed taverns and eateries all by himself.*

[NullAshton]

The starbases in orbit use their yards, and create a new Won-Ton Violence Take-Out hut. Yay!

[RudyHuxtable]

Hey Hut Fans!

I'm taking quite a pounding here in the Hut! People are getting pokers in their naughty bits, blisters are forming on places that shouldn't be blistered and people in general are running in terror! What better time than now to introduce our very own Kid's Menu!

So far it's only got Xiatiburger and Phong Fries, but we're working in the lab to come up with other great malnutritious treats for the little beasties!



And hey, it's ungroovy to stick pokers in people. Blow up the Hut all you want, but no pokers in my bum, 'kay? I just had it lifted.



Coming Soon:

The WTVTOH Floor Plan and Tourist Map
Extradimensional Rollercoaster
Bumper Dreadnoughts
Pin the Tail on Atrocities


Check here for details!

Bon Appetit!

[NullAshton]

The starbases in orbit is capable of precision strikes on the planet. If you're outside the hut, my starbases can vaporize you The starbases are also making items for the bar as well, supplying them.

[General Woundwort]

[OOC - Woundwort logs back on and spends 10+ minutes tracking what happened between 9AM and 4PM PST...]

[OOC - Obviously, a lot of people here have a lot more spare surf time than I do...]

Ten glowing torpedo-shaped objects materialize next to the ten bases, and...

[OOC - who am I kidding? I don't have time for this nonsense! If Growltigger wants this bar, let him come get it himself!

Sorry to be cranky, class isn't going well and I'm not in the mood for this!]

[NullAshton]

The torpedo-shaped objects are promptly vaporized. Go target practice!

[mac5732]

unnoticed by all the mayhem around the hut, small ghostly creatures are missed by all the defenders of the "Hut", unbeknownest by the defenders, the minions of the inner sanctum have washed up into the new?/Old/? Hut and used their uncanny and ghastly talents to insert their inner sanctum concoctions within all the food stored not only in the Hut but also in all the Ships flying protection above it. In addition, they slowly pour an unknown liquid into all the beer kegs and bottles, the tops are put carefully back so they are unable to be seen as being tampered with. After their diabolical raid, the tt worshiping minions depart, flushed back to their haunting grounds. Within a short time all the patrons, defenders outside and above, are grabbing their stomachs and behinds, rolling around on the ground, while up in the ships, all screens are covered with a film exparated from their crews. Ambulances soon arrive and begin transporting all of them to MiPartsr4sale, which turns out to be a medical research facility dealing in providing various articles to needy recepients. The screams of the defenders were heard for miles around as they were slowly wheeled into the inniards of this formidable establishment.....

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

I thought no more "my COMCA is bigger than your COMCS" but cartoon violence instead... I know, it's been said by a B&G person, but it's much more fun this way.

Angel pops in, mourns her team of fluffy rabid killer rabbits, and sets up a new cloning chamber with a new team of fluffy rabid killer rabbits.

[Jack Simth]

Jack "Barkeep, how do you expect just-cloned critters to pay off their tab at the end of the night?"
The bartender consideres this for a moment.
Barkeep "You know, I don't rightly know. Well, I suppose we'll see - I'll just demand everyone in the bar settle their tabs; can't be racist, after all."

Bartender "Everybody - it's time to settle your tab!"

Jack pulls out a single copper coin, and the bartender looks at him disgustedly.

Bartender "You haven't actually ordered anything we charge for, you know. Why do you sit in a bar and drink water, of all things?"

Jack "Well, I haven't been able to feel the effects of alchol since the first time I escaped the reaper. I can drink as much as I like, but I don't feel any of the effects - good or bad. So I just take water. Here, at least, you name them nicely."

The bartender goes around collecting payment. In the case of the cloned legs (as they don't have cash), he charges each an arm and a leg - as they don't have an arm, he substitutes another leg, charging each pair a leg and a leg. This leaves them rather put out, as all they are is a leg and a leg. He then places a few phone calls, and sells the separated cloned legs to a medical facility, which pays for them extravagantly, and grafts them to those unfortunates who were missing legs.

For some reason, this makes the legs that hadn't ordered yet very, very hesitant to order drinks, and they keep whispering of the event for as long as they stay, so the incoming legs hear, and leg it out of there as fast as possible.

The bartender uses the funds to order more materials, of course, and restocks. He then starts asking the more intact patrons to cover their tabs.

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

meanwhile, cloned legs of Strategia keep hopping into the take-out at a rate of two per minute. Soon, the legs begin to consume more alcoholic beverages than the patrons - something deemed absolutely impossible...

Hank: "Er, guys, shouln't we do somethin' 'bout the leggies? I've almost no Speetial Rifds left in sdorage... somebo'y shoo' the damn legs!"

Jack pulls a pocket universe out of his vest and flicks it to the legs. He then fills it with Spatial Rifts. The legs hop towards it and disappear. Jack then lets the pocket universe experience its end.

Legs still hop in at a rate of two per minute, though.