old man mcgucket, local kook (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gobblewonked) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2018-02-12 07:05 pm
gobblewonked) wrote in victory_road2018-02-12 07:05 pm
Open party log, as promised!
Who: Fiddleford McGucket and anyone in Goldenrod who saw his post -- or hears the ruckus.
Where: The junkyard behind the Goldenrod magnet train station.
When: February 13th!
Summary: A WILD BIRTHDAY HOOTENANNY.
Rating: Moonshine.
Notes: Feel free to treat this like a mingle log and tag around!
When Fiddleford McGucket said party streamers, no one knew that what he meant was dozens and dozens of feet of plastic tape pulled out of old casettes and tied to any high-up piece of old rusty metal McGucket could find.
When Fiddleford McGucket said enough beans for everybody, no one could have known that there would be a bean can mountain over six feet tall piled precariously on a tarp.
When Fiddleford McGucket had said moonshine made from a Ribombee, it might have crossed some more fearful minds that he had meant that literally. Thankfully, he didn't. There are two jugs of the honeystuff going around, and if anyone who's obviously less than sixteen or so gets hold of one of them, they'll find the jar lifted out of their grip by a pair of dirty bandaged hands, possibly while McGucket himself is hanging upside-down above their heads from a garbage edifice. It's good, but don't drink too much of it. There's also nonalcoholic cider that's rather more plentiful. McGucket says it's made from apricorns, but no one is sure how he managed it. It tastes funny but it won't put hair on your chest, unless it does. It also looks not so different from that honeyshine. Be careful not to mix them up.
The banjo music, though, is exactly as promised.
The party is centered around a bonfire with a great big old pot hanging above it, full of cooking beans. The empty cans are being fed to McGucket's Trubbish and a wild one or two around. You might spot a Rattata or a spooked Pidove skittering out of a pile of trash, and McGucket himself has had to chase a Stunky away with his hat more than once.
But he greets every single party guest with a broad smile and a hearty handshake, and you're not leaving this party hungry if he can help it -- as long as you like beans.
Where: The junkyard behind the Goldenrod magnet train station.
When: February 13th!
Summary: A WILD BIRTHDAY HOOTENANNY.
Rating: Moonshine.
Notes: Feel free to treat this like a mingle log and tag around!
When Fiddleford McGucket said party streamers, no one knew that what he meant was dozens and dozens of feet of plastic tape pulled out of old casettes and tied to any high-up piece of old rusty metal McGucket could find.
When Fiddleford McGucket said enough beans for everybody, no one could have known that there would be a bean can mountain over six feet tall piled precariously on a tarp.
When Fiddleford McGucket had said moonshine made from a Ribombee, it might have crossed some more fearful minds that he had meant that literally. Thankfully, he didn't. There are two jugs of the honeystuff going around, and if anyone who's obviously less than sixteen or so gets hold of one of them, they'll find the jar lifted out of their grip by a pair of dirty bandaged hands, possibly while McGucket himself is hanging upside-down above their heads from a garbage edifice. It's good, but don't drink too much of it. There's also nonalcoholic cider that's rather more plentiful. McGucket says it's made from apricorns, but no one is sure how he managed it. It tastes funny but it won't put hair on your chest, unless it does. It also looks not so different from that honeyshine. Be careful not to mix them up.
The banjo music, though, is exactly as promised.
The party is centered around a bonfire with a great big old pot hanging above it, full of cooking beans. The empty cans are being fed to McGucket's Trubbish and a wild one or two around. You might spot a Rattata or a spooked Pidove skittering out of a pile of trash, and McGucket himself has had to chase a Stunky away with his hat more than once.
But he greets every single party guest with a broad smile and a hearty handshake, and you're not leaving this party hungry if he can help it -- as long as you like beans.
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But nope-- Wrath's eyes turned human when he came here, just like the rest of him.
"You're the man in the house," is what he says, cryptically, instead of answering the question.
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Wait.
"The man in....." Well there's only one house he's been in recently. "....do you mean Envy and Lust's house?"
Heather had said it was their house.
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As Harry puts the pieces together in his head, Wrath maintains direct eye contact and an utterly unreadable expression.
But then confirms it with a decisive nod.
"Yes. I've seen you."
From... outside, apparently.
Either that or over the past couple of weeks Wrath has been around exclusively while Harry has slept, which, in addition to being sort of creepy, is entirely within the realm of possibility.
He comes and goes like an alleycat and nothing anybody has done has been able to stop him.
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"You must be Wrath. It's nice to meet you."
He's strange but then again, he's not a faceless grey child thing with a knife trying to kill him. ....Silent Hill will give you really odd standards for creepy.
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The boy doesn't say anything back for a moment-- instead, he visibly concentrates... and then slaps a hand twice to his chest and then once on both knees in quick succession.
And then stomps one foot on the ground.
... He looks proud of himself.
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The kid looks proud of himself though.
"Well...I'm not sure what that means, but hello."
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"It means, it's nice to meet you too. I am very polite."
He pauses, then leans in, a little conspiratorially.
"If you could tell Lust I was polite, that would be very helpful."
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"Well you have been polite, so I'll be sure to pass that along."
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As far as Wrath is concerned, 'manners' are pretty much a human invention, and thus optional.
But now that the pleasantries are dispensed with, he goes right back to trying to taste whatever's in that jug.
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Oh right, that part.
"Do you know what you're trying to drink right now?"
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SOUND LOGIC.
He lifts the jug.
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"I don't enjoy them very much at all. Why?"
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"... I don't believe you. Humans are fools, but even animals don't just drink things that hurt them. That would be stupid."
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"It is stupid. Humans have more imagination then animals and with it they tend to sometimes come up with things to do for enjoyment that have side effects that hurt them. Like that drink you have there. People enjoy drinking it but they'll get a terrible headache from it and if they drink enough of it it can make them sick. It's just like how some humans smoke even though they know it can give them fatal diseases."
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Record scratch noise.
"Smoking gives humans fatal diseases?"
Wrath doesn't smoke himself, obviously. He may have tried to eat a cigarette at one point and that frankly is more than enough to keep him away from them entirely now.
But a lot of his fellow team-mates smoke...
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Hello this is an anti-smoking psa from Harry Mason.
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When the PSA comes to an end, he nods quietly.
"I see. Thank you."
He puts the jug down.
Then he turns around and just... trots away.
He heads all the way out of the dump and to the street.
And then just... keeps jogging.
Goodbye Wrath.
no subject
Goodbye Wrath.
Harry will watch the boy run off and then shake his head before turning back to the party.
Having no idea what he's just done.