You are the building's SCATTY TYPIST, and boy are you hungry. You've been in the office for all of five minutes and you've worked up a wicked appetite. You reckon it's about time for your break.
What will you do?
> Check Chalice for contents
> Check under pulpit
You say you'd still rather wear the outfit. He's got nothing to say about that.
> Imbibe the chalice's contents.
-Sincerely, Sharkalien
> Imbibe the chalice's contents.
You're mostly hungry, but you also just noticed how quenched you are too. You take a sip.
Oh gross!
> Check Chalice for contents
Yeah, too little too late. You were REALLY hoping it was wine.
> Stand at the podium
You feel like a regular bible-thumper standing here. You'd speak through the microphone, but you can't think of anything to say just yet. You're about as creative as a piss gag in a sleuthlike.
> Check under pulpit
You find a BRACE DRILL.
Pure lemon juice, how unfortunate.
>Take the brace drill.
-Sincerely, Sharkalien
ST: Squawk like an imbecile and shit in the challice.
Please foward all messages to your mothers house
> ST: Drink Chalice.
Watch Wavelength (1967) by Micheal Snow. Film of the Summer.
> Take the brace drill.
You're the boss. Now would be a good time to look at your inventory. You're carrying one (1) BYRONIC BUSINESS CARD, one (1) BRACE DRILL, you have the DIRK equipped and A COUPLE OF ASPIRIN in your bra. You just know those are going to taste awful.
> examine chalice
Fine, you give the stupid chalice another once-over. Huh, there appears to be a hole where the basin would connect to the stem.
Looks like some party gal has dipped into the janitor's closet for a quick *makes drinky drinky motion with hand*.
Yep, there she goes.
> Check if the chalice has anything in it.
Ignore that, can't seem to delete my own message.
> Find some more booze.
> Spin the chalice like a bored teenager does with a pen.
> Yell through the hole to grab the party gal's attention.
-Sincerely, Sharkalien
> Hold the mop like its your lover. Make out with the mop.
> Yell through the hole to grab the party gal's attention.
Hey, chicken legs!
The party gal wonders who said that. You say you did. Down here. She wonders if this is some kind of solicitation, you say no. You quickly introduce yourself. She says nice to meet you, and tells you she is the BUXOM DIPSO. Yeah, yeah, let's get the pleasantries out of the way, tallstack. You ask her if she's got any food.
She has a couple of cocktail sausages in her bra. You say what bra.
BD tries passing one of the sausages through the hole. Maybe they're not as "cocktail" as she remembers. If only she had a DIRK, then she could cut them up into smaller servings. Looks like your quest for breakfast continues.
You can now command ST and BD at any time. Make sure to specify which!
> BD: Hold the mop like its your lover. Make out with the mop.
You've had worse.
> BD: Find some more booze.
Actually, that was a virgin martini you were drinking, so technically you never had any booze. Much like your scatty bedfellow, you're on your quest to find a decent breakfast. Which in your case, usually entails some kind of alcoholic hangover cure.
You wonder if this bucket has any intoxicating chemicals. If it did, the buckets contents have unfortunately hardened to an undrinkable state. You think you smell paint and fish. This really isn't helping with the hangover.
> ST: Consume the Elixir
> BD: Check under hat
You say you'd still rather wear the outfit. He's got nothing to say about that.
> BD: Check under hat
It's a stick of dynamite!
> BD: Tell ST to back away, stick dynamite into hole as much as possible, and light!
... and, er, find cover.
You say you'd still rather wear the outfit. He's got nothing to say about that.