Halfway through the night...
ATTENTION PASSENGERS: This is your captain speaking. We will be stopping at Cape Town, South Africa for an unscheduled refuelling stop. Yes, it took us two days to get from Antarctica to South Africa and we need to refuel; this plane sucks.
The captain's midnight message was startling to say the least to all those who had spent a - so far - sleepless night slumped in their seats with bags under their eyes. The plane touched down in Cape Town an hour later and immediately, SilverArrow set about having an argument with the pilots.
"I've told you a billion times, how the hell are we supposed to get any sleep when you kick us off the plane in the middle of the night!?" cried Silver in anguish.
"And I've told you a billion-and-one times, go sleep in the goddamn terminal!" shouted the pilot.
"You're on crack!" yelled Silver, and he stormed off towards the terminal after the other Not606 members (except poor Nazara who refused to leave the bathroom).
They'd be sleeping in a private room reserved for high-ranking passengers such as themselves in similar circumstances. It was roughly the size of a garage, lined with benches to sleep on. This was a relief to the majority of people; they surely wouldn't be killed in such a confined space with so many witnesses would they? One by one, heads drooped and eyelids fluttered rapidly...
Morning came and Julius Caesar woke to a glorious sunrise and birds tweeting and all those other magical things in movies that signal the dawn of a good day. However all was not as well as it seemed at first. Cries and frantic voices were easily audible beyond the room, and in his haste to find out what was going wrong, JC hadn't bothered to check on the well-being of his fellow team members.
Police and medical staff all stood around a closed-off, fairly isolated area with horrified people staring from a distance. JC went up to it and couldn't believe the sight before him.
Paco Montoya was lying on the ground with one side of his head bashed in and a long, cone-shaped yellow object next to him. "Another vuvuzela related death," said one officer to a medic, "These occur four or five times a week. They're so infuriating that people feel a very powerful urge to bash them with their heads as hard as they can whenever they see one,"
However the Not606 team knew the truth. Poor Paco had been murdered in the dead of the night, but who'd believe them if they told anyone? The heat's been turned up another notch...
REMAINING PLAYERS:
- Nazara
- Julius Caesar
- El_Bando
- tomtom94 v2.4 (beta)
- Forza Di Resta
- BrightLampShade
- SilverArrow
- Players, remember to vote (only once!) with a post containing 'Vote: xxxx' nice and obviously. If you wish to change, please edit rather than posting afresh
- I apologise as this isn't a particularly funny story relatively speaking, but I'm too buggered after a big night out to make anything better.
- Nothing in the story is a true reflection of the identity of any individual player and should not be taken seriously with regards to voting.
- I'm scrapping the rule that says the dead are unable to speak in these threads. Just don't say anything revealing or incriminating that may give any clues about the identity of a particular individual.
​- This thread will be locked once a player has been lynched and the night cycle begins.
ATTENTION PASSENGERS: This is your captain speaking. We will be stopping at Cape Town, South Africa for an unscheduled refuelling stop. Yes, it took us two days to get from Antarctica to South Africa and we need to refuel; this plane sucks.
The captain's midnight message was startling to say the least to all those who had spent a - so far - sleepless night slumped in their seats with bags under their eyes. The plane touched down in Cape Town an hour later and immediately, SilverArrow set about having an argument with the pilots.
"I've told you a billion times, how the hell are we supposed to get any sleep when you kick us off the plane in the middle of the night!?" cried Silver in anguish.
"And I've told you a billion-and-one times, go sleep in the goddamn terminal!" shouted the pilot.
"You're on crack!" yelled Silver, and he stormed off towards the terminal after the other Not606 members (except poor Nazara who refused to leave the bathroom).
They'd be sleeping in a private room reserved for high-ranking passengers such as themselves in similar circumstances. It was roughly the size of a garage, lined with benches to sleep on. This was a relief to the majority of people; they surely wouldn't be killed in such a confined space with so many witnesses would they? One by one, heads drooped and eyelids fluttered rapidly...
Morning came and Julius Caesar woke to a glorious sunrise and birds tweeting and all those other magical things in movies that signal the dawn of a good day. However all was not as well as it seemed at first. Cries and frantic voices were easily audible beyond the room, and in his haste to find out what was going wrong, JC hadn't bothered to check on the well-being of his fellow team members.
Police and medical staff all stood around a closed-off, fairly isolated area with horrified people staring from a distance. JC went up to it and couldn't believe the sight before him.
Paco Montoya was lying on the ground with one side of his head bashed in and a long, cone-shaped yellow object next to him. "Another vuvuzela related death," said one officer to a medic, "These occur four or five times a week. They're so infuriating that people feel a very powerful urge to bash them with their heads as hard as they can whenever they see one,"
However the Not606 team knew the truth. Poor Paco had been murdered in the dead of the night, but who'd believe them if they told anyone? The heat's been turned up another notch...
REMAINING PLAYERS:
- Nazara
- Julius Caesar
- El_Bando
- tomtom94 v2.4 (beta)
- Forza Di Resta
- BrightLampShade
- SilverArrow
- Players, remember to vote (only once!) with a post containing 'Vote: xxxx' nice and obviously. If you wish to change, please edit rather than posting afresh
- I apologise as this isn't a particularly funny story relatively speaking, but I'm too buggered after a big night out to make anything better.
- Nothing in the story is a true reflection of the identity of any individual player and should not be taken seriously with regards to voting.
- I'm scrapping the rule that says the dead are unable to speak in these threads. Just don't say anything revealing or incriminating that may give any clues about the identity of a particular individual.
​- This thread will be locked once a player has been lynched and the night cycle begins.
