DATE: August 29, 2001 CAST: Basil, Enzo, Terry and Walter The Tin Can Bug Bar This rusty can, once used to hold soup, veggies, or something of the sort, is now host to one bug's bar and grill. The insides of the can are spotty, rain obviously taking it's toll on the old can. Furnishings consist of a bar, with stools crafted of bottle caps and matchsticks. A few scattered tables are also patched together sets, made from lids, twigs, matchsticks, and leaves. Flies hover about, seeming to pester many of the other customers. Various bugs sit at tables, or at the bar, where a large brown roach dishes out drinks to those patrons nearby. He gives you a bit of a stare, icy, inquisitive, but soon returns to his business. Upon entering this particular establishment, Enzo takes a look around. This is like a second home to him. Or truth be known, more like this first home. He attempts to place his hands on the shoulders of his two co-worker ants, in a slightly patronizing gesture. "So, I gotta tell ya two. I never figured you'd get the hang of the job. But now that you've survived to this point, I gotta congratulate ya on, well, surviving." He then takes a glance at a Cricket situated at the end of the bar, who passes a glancing expression and a wave, along with a look of mirth, and a shake of the head. Looking around the 'establishment' a wide eyed Basil is rather taken aback by all of the commotion. This looks like quite the rough, and possibly dangerous place as a couple of bugs seem to be getting into a rather heated argument over some unknown incident. "Uh... Yeah. Yeah, thanks Enzo, that's... really nice of you," is expressed in a less than convincing tone, and a look of irritation is made as the hand of the mosquito is placed upon his shoulder. Basil is still less than convinced of his co-worker's unexpected friendliness, but it seems a good idea to make penitence with the individual if he's willing. No response is made to the contact on his shoulder on Walter's part, other than a barely perceptible flinch. This ant shows no sign of trusting the mosquito any further than he can throw Muffin, but it isn't wise to invite the wrath of a bug who has already inflicted damage on you once before. Therefore he plays along as meekly as possible, nodding silently in response to Enzo's 'congratulatory' remarks. That lack of 'respect' as it were seems to only aggravate the mosquito farther, but he's got quite a bit involved in this, and isn't willing to blow it now. "Ah, that's good. I'm glad to hear it." Enzo then gestures to the bar, were there are three empty seats awaiting anyone who would like to take them. Kinda convenient, really seeing how busy and crowded the bar is. A wink and a nod is passed to the cricket, who responds with an expression of doubt and a barely perceptible chuckle, even a slight roll of the eyes. "How about it, my treat okay?" An offer is made as he takes a seat next to the same said cricket. Basil takes a look up to Enzo, and then to the bar, a large large pocket knife. Suddenly a loud comment is heard from the another part of the room. "Hey what are ants doing here!" A loud call is sounded. It's that same kind of derision Basil's come to expect from the city's residents, to which he's barely perceptible to it now. Without another word, a seat is taken by the beige ant, who awaits Walter to accompany him. "What kind of place *is* this?" is inquired in a sincere manner. Walter doesn't trust himself to even glance in the direction the idle comment originated. He feigns an interest in the floor, which, come to think of it, is pretty interesting. He's not necessarily accustomed to hard, ridged, rusty surfaces that curve around to form both the walls and ceiling. A bit like a too-perfectly structure chamber turned into a seedy joint that hands out drinks to grimy patrons. Without a word he follows Enzo and Basil to the bar, and climbs into the remaining empty seat. "Oh, this place?" Is offered in a slightly exagerated tone of fondness, as Enzo no doubt reminisces about the many times and memories he's had here. Not to mention the many night's he'd forgotten, due to his excessive, well, patronization. "This is one of the hottest places in the city. I'm sure you'll come to love it as I have." Enzo awaits, rather impatiently for the bartender to await his service, which is soon attended to. "I'm guessing you'll be having the usual?" a sarcastic question is made, suggesting the frequency of this bug's return visits. "Yeah, and for my friends here!" A enthusiastic addition is made. The bartender gives a blank stare and hands over a drop of dark brown fluid to the mosquito. "Oh," is the only offer given by Basil as he takes a quick look around the location. The rowdiness of the patrons have his main attention, though the construction of the bar has made its way into his mind. It still seems like such a foreign place, all of the strange shapes and materials they are made of. Then as the barkeep passes the drink to Enzo, a look of mild mirth is given to the first ant. "You care for what he's having?" Is thumb pointed to the mosquito, then a boisterous laugh is made as the same colored drop is handed to the source of whit. "Uh, sure." Is muttered as the drop of beverage is handed over, and inspected tenaciously. Poor posturing is adopted as Walter gets acclimated to the seat, dimly resigned to whatever the mosquito has decided to order for them. Most of the commotion has been shut out of his attention, while the strong and often less than pleasant scents dominating the interior of the tin can invade his senses. The drop of brown fluid is accepted with a blank gaze, which soon evolves into a questioning one. As of yet, no move is made to actually *drink* the thing. A side glance is passed to his two companions. Without another word, Enzo places the drink to his lips, and in a sudden backward thrust of his head, he inhales the beverage voraciously. It's been another 'hard day' at work, and he needs to calm his nerves as it were. "Uh, Enzo, you're tab is *way* over due. I hope you have cash to pay for throes drinks, or you'll be working them off. Along with your *friends* here." A look of derision is made by the bartender. "Oh, uh, well. I can take care of my share..." Then he passes a look to Basil and Walter. "But you'll need to get the payment out of them, I ain't got it." This is of little surprise, at least to Basil's point of view. He's heard of Enzo's reputation and it's a good thing they were just paid, because it seems that he'll be paying for this himself. Basil pulls out some money and places it on the counter, and a rolled eyed expression is given as he decides to take a taste of this, what-ever-it-is. Now that he's paid good money, he's not about to let it go to waste. *Cough! Cough! Cough!* is emitted as the strong tasting beverage is in part consumed, and the ant attempts to catch his breath. An even more inquisitive expression is made as he soon recovers. Wow. What a shock. Ordering drinks as a friendly gesture and conveniently being unable to pay for them. With a dispassionate look, Walter follows suit in 'coughing up' some of his money, even though he'd much rather turn the drink back... but it doesn't strike him as a good idea right now. Well, at least Enzo had the courtesy to wait to do this sort of thing until they actually got paid. With that out of the way, Walter suppresses a sigh and practically inhales the drink, blinking rapidly as soon as the liquid has disappeared. His breathing becomes more audible, while some of his face turns very faintly red... is it *that* warm in here? Laughter is emitted from the cricket to the left of Enzo. A really loud, and high pitched laughter at that. Then a nasty glance is given and Enzo taps the counter to deposit some cash and to get another drink. A look of intense irritation is given to no one in particular, but is clearly intended for the bug to the left of him. "Oh, it can't be all that bad, can it Basil?" A smirk is given, and then he passes a glance to Walter. "Your buddy Walter seems to be handling his just fine." Then as the money is taken and another drop handed over, the same action of consumption as before is made again. Then an even louder laugh is made, and again he attempts to pat the beige ant in a condescending manner. Basil has had just about enough of this condescending manner toward him and his kind in general. Then as if to galvanize his current state of ire, he feels the patting on his shoulder and in turn he holds the rest of the drink to his lips and consumes it as quickly as Enzo does. This time it has less of an effect as before, and he's able to keep his wits about him. A triumphant expression is given back to the mosquito. "Nope, not bad at all Enzo! Not bad at all!" He cries out jubilantly, and calls to the bartender for another drop, intent on not being outdone. Kind of a bad time to get into a drinking competition, having never consumed alcohol before. Taking his drink well? Well... yeah, for a first timer. Walter mulls over the peculiarly strong aftertaste in wide-eyed silence, swallowing several times in a futile effort to clear his mouth of the offensive flavor. His eyes adopt a slightly watery sheen, which is remedied with more blinking. He doesn't seem quite as goaded into getting another drink, but, after a moment of recovery, he reluctantly orders another for himself. If they can handle it, well, why not join in? Enzo takes a sideways glance at the cricket whom has suddenly become rather quiet. After the consumption of the third drop of beverage, the effects of the substance do begin to have a mild effect on him as he leans toward the other two ants. "I glottal tell ya guys. I really had my doubts about the two of yous, I mean you surviving da scraounging job. " He sits back and folds his arms in a triumphant manner. He looks happier than he's been in quite a while, and it's not due simply to the alcohol. The cricket grumbles and hands over a couple of bills and orders a drink for himself. "Phew! What is this stuff, anyway!" Is called out as the after taste and rather offensive odor is experienced. Basil then waves a hand back and fourth to signal that he's had quite enough of the fluid. Upon glancing at Enzo, he can't help but notice the lack of comprehensive language he's spewing, and a strange euphoria has made its way to his vision, but its effects are mild, as he rotates his back to the bar and leans against it, with his hands held behind his head. He's feeling a little woozy, and a little dizzy. With any luck this will be his last drink. This second one is taken in much more slowly than the first, but it soon leaves the scene as well. Walter shakes his head to refuse any more of the strange drink, which has an unwelcome effect on his vision, already dulling up to begin with--plus his brain feels like it's swimming in heated water. Or maybe just flopping around. In any event, something feels wrong in some way that Walter can't quite fathom. After a few more seconds, he releases his grip on the ivory-handled bar, leans back slightly, and... spills backwards out of his chair as a result. He probably won't be ordering any more drinks tonight. Enzo lets out a serious guffaw as Walter manages to make his way to the floor. Then as his glance is given to Basil, he notices he's just sitting there. Then a hand is felt rapping against his left arm, as the cricket giggles and mentions softly, "Both ants, or no deal!" Then as the mosquito accepts his third and final serving, he suddenly gets an idea. Holding the shimmering orb of brownish liquid he passes it to Basil, and in a low threatening growl states "Eder drink dis now, or you jhust might finda youself ssssomeplace else.!" Then the emphasis is recapitulated as the drop is nearly forced into the ants mouth. The effects of the liquid consumed has now have been made pretty much in full effect, and in the semi delirious state, the threat that is made to Basil becomes much more of a panic, causing him to imagine all sorts of terrible things that could happen to him, including several that in a clear minded state, would never even occur to him. Then the drink, in the ant's point of view, is violently shoved into his mouth, he chokes it down, and as the heat and dizziness increases, he rolls over and rather roughly slams his head against the bar. *Aaawwwccch!!!* Is called out as the impact only worsens the effects of his delirium. "Nnnnnaaaahhhttt sooo hhaaaaaadddd!" He slurs without moving a muscle. What's this? The ceiling is moving? This is unprecedented! Or maybe that's the floor that's moving, and Walter somehow got stuck on the ceiling. Maybe the world turned upside-down--what a silly thing for it do. Or *maybe* he's smashed... a much more plausible explanation for the way things look from his perspective, skewed by the effects of alcohol. The inebriated ant makes no sign of hearing the others. He makes a pitiful attempt to get back up, without success. He mutters something about not being able to feel his legs anymore, and thinks that 'Shomeone shtole 'emthgh...' Enzo takes a prideful expression at the cricket next to him as several bills are laid out upon the counter. "Oh, ahunnnd eeeets' beeehn a pleeeesure dooin beenees with yaaa." Is slurred by the needle nosed insect as the other bug hops off of the chair, and quickly makes his way out of the bar. "Yeah, sure Enzo." Is called out without looking back. The mosquito plans on pocketing the rest of the case when the bartender grins widely and holds out a hand to receive payment for the extended tab. The bartender thumbs through the cash, muttering, "If this get's the bar bill paid, feel free to bring in ants more often." A light chuckle is emitted an Enzo drops his elbows to the bar, thoroughly defeated. Managing a head roll, Basil notices the entire transaction from the cricket's payoff, to the payment of the bar tab. A sudden, but lethargic hop off the bar stool is made, nearly causing the inebriated ant to fall to the floor. Basil manages to right himself, and in a loud, muffled voice calls out. "Oooohhhh, iz daaat whuut disss is all abaawwt! Cam ann Waahultaa. Leeets geet owtaaa heeaa! Wee'vee behne t-t-t- trrrickt!" Then a hand is offered to help his intoxicated friend off of the floor. Walter blinks slowly. The ceiling--or is that the floor?--appears to have stopped moving, but now there's this beige thing in the way, and--oh, wait. That's an herb, no, wait, an ant he knows... Basil? Yeah, that sounds right. Walter's expression is uncomprehending throughout Basil's words, but he eventually perceives the hand offered to assist him to his feet. He reaches out, accepting, and attempts to re-attain a more vertical position, but no doubt that won't be easy. If anything, he just might end up pulling the other ant down with him. Enzo at this point has completely become oblivious to everything round him. Once again he's been humiliated, and can no longer stand being in this place. He then hops down from the bar, and manages to make his way around the two ants he's been so kind to bring a deep degree of shame and humiliation. A mild smirk is made as he pauses to consider saying something, then keeps going, out the door, well, as best as he can manage without slamming into the side of the can, and into the distance, and great deal away from Terry's apartment. They won't be seeing him for quite a while. An attempt is made to pull Walter, if that truly is Walter off the floor. Basil nearly does slip and fall on top of the other ant, but manages to grab ahold of the barstool, in preventing their collision. "Chuman, Waaalta. I tink it wud be, uh, uh beest to go bock to Teerees plaze!" Hopefully Terry won't be too offended or taken out by two sloshed ants, even though they had no idea what they were getting into. "Eeets a ghood ting we dnt wrk tamarraw!" All too true, considering his deeply confused state. At last, Walter re-discovers how to use his legs. Sort of. Standing as firmly as a wet noodle, he grips at the bar to steady and keep his balance, all the while nodding distractedly to Basil. Whether he truly understands or is agreeing just for the sake of agreement is anyone's guess. Basil manages to get ahold enough of his balance, as well as Walter, don't ask how. Then he makes a couple of staggering steps out toward the entrance to the 'establishment.' Hopefully the two of them will be able to make their way back to Terry's apartment without bashing, crashing, falling over anything, or just plain making a spectacle of themselves. At least they're in good company. Many of the insects who do frequent the infamous Tin Can Bug Bar tend to leave with an unsteadier gait than when they came in, and wake up with really bad headaches the next day. The main difference is that most of these victims of drunkeness come back for more. Walter may make his first couple of drinks his last, if he has any sense -- which he currently lacks. He follows Basil with a wobbly gait, slightly more skilled in walking than a toddler. Terry's Apartment A small, inelegant room of cardboard. Although it's kept relatively clean, its previous occupants must have had less than good hygiene, judging from the various faded stains on the walls and floor. There's very little furniture in sight, apart from shelves made from wafer thin cardboard and a small, equally thin cardboard box for storage. It's been a really long and tipsy trip from the bug bar back to Terry's home. "Oooohh Terrreeee!" Basil calls out in a seriously slurred voice. The alcohol has taken on its full effect by now, and it's causing Basil's walk to simulate something akin to a blindfolded ant, caught in a waterless whirpool. He then slumps against the doorway, not even considering if Walter may or may not be behind him, awaiting his entrance into the living space of their host. Baby step through the hallway, baby step into the apartment, baby step a little further inside--trip, fall, meet the ground face-to-cardboard and moan unintelligibly. Well, at least Walter *did* manage to make it this far before forgetting how to properly use his legs again. Currently, the main section of Terry's apartment is empty. The Kleenex set aside for the guests is still where it usually is, and it probably always will until either a) the ants get a place of their own, or b) they give Terry sufficient reason to kick them out. Hopefully returning to the apartment in an inebriated state won't do the trick. As Basil calls out, though, a sound makes itself known in the next room. Terry soon emerges, eyes squinting at the light, a thoroughly irritated look etched across her face... all of which seems to indicate that she was trying to sleep until they came in. "Oh, weeeereee yooooo sleeeeepiiingg?" Is the response given as Basil wobbles his way into the apartment and he eyes the sleepy grasshopper before him. It's about all he can do to keep his balance, and then he suddenly finds his legs go out from under him causing a direct and probably inevitable meeting with the ground. That is unless someone can prevent his less than casual meeting with the cardboard floor of the room. Walter is certainly in no position to stop Basil from getting up close and personal with the floor, unless it be as as an unwitting obstruction to fall on top of. As it is, he's dealing with a similar problem right now. He makes a laborious effort to push himself to his knees. At the moment, it's all Terry can do to just stare at these ants disbelievingly. She's seen similar behavior more times than she cares to remember, but obviously didn't expect to see it manifest itself in these two. "You're drunk!" she exclaims, half in anger, half in astonishment. "What have you been *doing*?" Well, it's the floor he makes contact with, landing on his back and abdomen. "*Ouch!*" Is called out, but most of the pain he'll be feeling in the morning will no doubt be his head. "Ooooh. Wheeel.. we waaaas inveeeteed by Ennnzzzoaa... Fhunnie ward. Ennnzzzzoooooo! Bahhtt hee ennveeted usss to haaaveee dreenksk weeeth heeem. Suhhhmmmm plleeece callledd a boooogg baaaaa." It'll be interesting to see if Terry can actually decipher that one, despite her experience with drunkenness. Walter offers no further commentary of his own. Not that he's had much to say tonight, aside from a panicked moment of thinking someone ran off with his legs. The ant simply crawls toward one of the Kleenex piles. Terry doesn't even make the effort to interpret what sounds like pure gibberish to her antennae. "On second though, I really don't want to hear it," she concludes, frowning sternly at the ants, arms folded. Not a move is made to help either Basil or Walter. "You can just tell me about it when you sleep it off." It is just as well, now that the room has begun to spin around, and around, and around... it takes all of Basil's effort to make his way to a lump of Kleenex himself, where upon his form makes direct contact with the ground, and the darkness of unconsciousness finally mercifully takes over. At least he should get some good sleep tonight. Walter doesn't need to be told twice. Actually, he probably didn't need to be told at all. Once he finally makes it over to the other Kleenex pile, he flops into it and goes out like a light. Terry glares silently at them as they finally let unconsciousness claim them, and decides to do the same. Rolling her eyes heavenward as if appealing to a higher source, she turns and heads back into the other room, shutting the door firmly. [END LOG] Next Log: Hangover Return to: Muted Identity logs.

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