The new moon. It begins.

[wurstoftheworst]

Hot dogs are a traditional summer food in many parts of North America.

Of course, not all of the people in Milliways are from North America. It may not even be summer wherever they come from.

The Landlord, however, seems to be a fan of American summer pastimes, because as patrons enter the bar today, they find a platter of hot dogs, in buns, on each and every table in the Bar. There's even a bottle of mustard and relish next to each platter.

There's no indication of who put them there, and most people know it's not a good idea to eat food in Milliways that's just sitting out. But they smell so good (despite being a slightly off-putting shade of bright red)... what could it hurt, really?

[ooc: Thus begins the Were-Wiener plot! Please read the plot Q&A post for details on how things work, and send leeshajoy a ping or a PM if you have any questions or concerns. This post is open through the end of the month or until it scrolls off the front page, whichever comes last.]

Comments

[guppy_sandhu]

Hm, sausages out on the bar for hours? That's a food hygiene risk.

After a while, Guppy becomes curious and comes over. He's not daft enough to eat free food (far from it, after nearly seven years in Milliways), but he does decide to stick a temparature probe in one.

[wurstoftheworst]

The wiener is still piping hot--clearly, it hasn't been out long enough to be a health hazard.

[guppy_sandhu]

Huh, fair enough then.

Guppy returns the probe to Bar, and turns away, meaning to keep an eye on them anyway. Free food has something of a reputation around here.

[wurstoftheworst]

CHOMP.

A set of tiny but sharp teeth close on Guppy's free hand.

[guppy_sandhu]

"Ow!"

Guppy withdraws his hand, looking around for what that was. Not seeing anything, he peers at the wound and wraps a tissue around it.

[electro_kinetic]

Dude. Hot dogs.

Enter Noriko: blue hair, X-uniform and all, she's Japanese by birth, but considers herself an American--and as an American, hot dogs on plates (though the setting of pandimensional bar does give her pause) demand to be eaten.

And seriously, she's nineteen. She'll eat pretty much anything if it stands still long enough.

[wurstoftheworst]

And they will stand still. They're just there, in the middle of the table, looking delicious.

[electro_kinetic]

She's normally not very ladylike--it's not exactly high on her list of priorites, considering the top three are don't die, don't let your teammates die and don't forget the ethics paper due Thursday--but she tries for all of a minute or so to consider the consequences.

But it's food. And food is good after having not eaten in several hours.

[wurstoftheworst]

Just an ordinary, delicious hot dog. Not a conductor of ancient evil at all. Nope.

Go on, eat it. You know you want to.

[electro_kinetic]

Nori picks up the hot dog, and takes a bite--and shrugs when it doesn't appear she's changed gender, or gotten some miraculously ridiculous outfit foisted on her, and remembers who she is, what year it is, and the rest.

Just a hot dog. Maybe there are still decent people in the bar who will leave recognizable food out for hungry young people. Either way, Nori's happy, munching away on the hot dog with a vague look of contentment.

[all_er_nothin]

Mmm, hot dogs.

Will picks one up and looks for a price. He needs all the free food he can get.

[wurstoftheworst]

No price! It's free! Have all you want!

[all_er_nothin]

Will eats two, contentedly.

Mmm, hot dogs.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

One doesn't often see food lying around the base back home. Either Herr Scout eats it, or Herr Heavy does. This... this is unusual.

The Medic is quite naturally going to examine one of the sausages very closely.

[wurstoftheworst]

To all appearances, it's a perfectly normal (albeit cheap) hot dog. The only thing that stands out is its unusual hue.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

Yes. That is a very suspicious color, to someone who works for BLU.

Someone who should have put his gloves on before poking at the hot dog with one finger. Honestly, now.

[wurstoftheworst]

Yes. Yes, he should have. And he's paying the price now.

CHOMP.

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

"Hosenscheisser!"

He yanks his hand back from the vile RED boobytrap as swiftly as he can, but let's face it, the damage has already been done... he's gonna need some bandage time for that, isn't he.

[wurstoftheworst]

The wiener's mouth closes again, becoming virtually invisible among the folds and puckers at the end of the sausage. It betrays no sign of its unusual nature.

...yet.

[forgoodorforawesome]

Nothing goes with hot dogs like cold ones, which is why Strong Bad takes heaping relish only an already-mustarded wiener to call out to a passing waitrat. "Hey, garçon ratón! Some onions and a cold one, s'il vous favor!"

The rat squeaks and heads off to fill the request. The Cheat makes some squeaks of his own, but those sound a lot less sanguine.

"You worry too much, The Cheat. It's free food! What's the downside there?"

The Cheat shrugs and makes a sort of "Ma woo" noise. Diggy's told him about the hazards of free food; if he didn't drop said science on Strong Bad, there must've been a reason.

[ilko_skevuld]

The waitrat obviously knows the On Point Kings' habits; when it returns with Strong Bad's requested items, it's also brought a blue drink, some fries and a bottle of QFC. "Thanks," says The Cheat and starts eating and drinking.

He is not, however, distracted from watching Strong Bad apply onions and broken grammar* to that red hot. As the wrestleman raises dat dawg to his mouth, The Cheat throws caution to the wind and attempts to fling himself across the table.

He falls considerably short of his goal, landing on the remaining wieners. He could've sworn something bit him, but that's impossible; the waitrat's nowhere near him. And Strong Bad's eaten the wiener. Oh well, at least he tried.

* "takes heaping relish only an already-mustarded wiener"? The narration no longer remembers precisely what it was trying to say, but it's pretty sure it wasn't that.

[evil_koala_626]

Snuffle.

Snufflesnuffle.


"Oooh...."

Slowly, ever so slowly, a pair of glittering black eyes rise over the rim ofthe table. What have we here?

[wurstoftheworst]

We have some extremely tasty-looking, fresh-off-the-grill hot dogs, is what we have!

[evil_koala_626]

Why, so we do!

"Tukibowaba!" exclams a gleeful alien as he begins to haul himself the rest of the way on to the table's surface. The alien pauses breifly to casually glance around for any would be obstacles. He's been caught before, after all.

And by "casually" we of course mean "As shiftily as possible". Subelty has never been Stitch's strong suit.

[wurstoftheworst]

No obstacles in sight. No one is going to stop you. Least of all the wieners themselves. Why would they? They're inanimate objects.

[evil_koala_626]

Weiners? What wieners?

Stitch blinks mutely down at the incriminating empty plate. After a moment's consideration, he eats that too.