old man mcgucket, local kook (
gobblewonked) wrote in
victory_road2018-02-12 07:05 pm
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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.
no subject
SEE!
SEE HOW GOOD HE IS AT DANCING.
HE COULDN'T POSSIBLY HAVE DONE ANYTHING WRONG.
IF YOU'RE GOOD AT A THING, IT MEANS YOU ARE NEVER GUILTY OF ANYTHING.
no subject
Then, he turns to the Ditto. "Now, why don't you--" Mmm, this critter sure is wobbly. "Hey--you--" It's hard to hear himself think at the best of times over the music and the air-raid sirens, but the laminated-paper-wobble is one noise too much. "--you stop your wigglin' for a minute, jelly critter, you and I gotta have words!"
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HE IS TOO POWERFUL!!
Well, actually, the power of disapproval has immense sway over the Ditto, and the wiggles do begin to slow.
Oh no... this wasn't supposed to happen! He wasn't supposed to get in trouble!
Jelly finally wobbles to a semi-halt and turns his eyes, which he makes as large and innocent as possible, up to the party host. Who, him? How could you ever suspect Jelly of doing anything bad?
no subject
"That's better. Now, go on an' tell me what happened."
He says this like he fully expects the Ditto to use human words.
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THIS! THIS IS INTIMIDATION!
Intimidation tactics!
That's so low!
How dare you jangle, keys?!
The Ditto makes a babbling noise, gesturing to Gulliver angrily.
HOW can you expect him to be honest under these conditions?! He is being menaced.
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Just you wait until he's out of here, Ditto... just you wait!
no subject
It would seem that he had been dancing peacefully for a delighted audience when the Klefki came up and MALICIOUSLY attempted to upstage him, dancing so recklessly that he even endangered the watchers with flying keys! A thing that Jello would NEVER do! Never, ever!
He would. Jello does not care about anybody's personal safety.no subject
Any other time, he'd break into wild laughter, say something about how that sounds believable, and move on to something else.
But he really, really doesn't like the Ditto. He can't put his finger on why.
"Eh...I...I didn't catch that. What was it you said happened?"