Lobster Party!
Every passenger on the island will find themselves whisked away to Big Lou's Lollapalooza, seated comfortably around the stage area, which has been removed to make way for a large dirt ring.
Unfortunately the passengers have been seated very far back, all the front row seats have little "Reserved" tags on them. As the denizens of the island take their seats in the large coliseum and the show flickers to brilliant colour on all the comms (ensuring everyone gets a front row seat to this remarkable competition), a man and woman comment from a box above. "-- citement is really palpable in this arena. Three riders remain in a dead heat for the glory of hanging that wreathe around their lobster's chelipeds. I haven't seen such a fine display of lobster dressage in quite some time, and it's sure to really stand out as an event to be talked about.”
"Quite right, Mr Pimbletopper. First, the contenders will take to the ring-a nice, pedestrian touch we introduced last year, and helps us connect with the young folk the beauty of the bond between rider and lobster-"
"And nothing is more important than our future, Mrs Spinks, the children. But not our children's children because children really shouldn't be getting each other pregnant.”
"Exactly so, Mr Pimbletopper. All children in the audience, please do not impregnate your peers, no matter how much fun it may seem at the time.”
"I think it's about to begin and... yes, here comes the nine year old Norweigan orange-tail ridden by Tront Roznor. Quite a slim breed, but we'll see how it holds up to the rigorous championship course. Second is the eight year old Atlantic pincer with Woll Smoth riding, and whuff-look at that canter. You can really see the breeding in the barrel and the stifle, all the way back to how it fully extends the hock and ursopods."
"Truly, a gorgeous specimen with a very skilled rider from the north shore of the island. Last but certainly not least is Quon Olozoboth atop her Pacific long-whisker, quite a spritely young thing of only four years. It has a truly splendid carapace, very shiny, and all these competitors look to be in tip-top form."
A very orange looking lobster skitters out with a very angry young man in the saddle, a silk top hat at a jaunty angle on his long-haired head. There is a pause and the music starts up. Immediately the two in the booth begin chattering, totally ruining the experience.
"Tront Roznor is first and he told us that we could expect something quite dramatic, so here we go. Mm, yes, is that-"
"Yes, I believe that is a double-canter pirouette and in one-tempo, Mrs Spinks-"
"Very dramatic indeed. Just a repeat there... very, very good pirouette.”
"Almost picking the left hind legs dead up on the spot.”
"Fantastic reach with the pincers, Mrs Spinks, but I don't know if he's kept a proper angle in that half-pass...”
The orange lobster's legs are just whirring around, a complicated blur as Tront Roznor dances with his lobster in time to the cheery, upbeat music playing through tinny loudspeakers. He glowers at the cameras. You can feel his deep loathing for all vertebrates.
"Ohh, and this is really his forte, isn't it, Mr Pimbletopper. Just look at the height and freedom. Really, it's like viewing a bird on the wing.”
After about twenty more seconds of dainty claw-work, Tront Roznor skitters off the ring to thunderous applause from the audience. Another young man enters the ring, and this lobster is enormous and a deep blue, one claw absolutely mammoth.
"Next is Woll Smoth with that beast of an Atlantic pincer.”
"Next is Woll Smoth with that beast of an Atlantic pincer.”
"I think Tront Roznor has really shocked the competition into another gear, so Woll Smoth will really have to show some excellent spirit if he wants to win, Mrs Spings. I believe Smoth's music choice is something called... Lody Mormolode?”
Lady Marmalade explodes through the speakers, the volume much too high and the audience shrieks in delight as the massive blue lobster wags its fanlike tail in time with the beat.
"That's a spectacular half-pass in a canter, and it looks like-Oh my God!”
The Atlantic blue suddenly reaches back and grabs Woll Smoth in its mammoth claw and rips him from the saddle, waving him about as it gallops in circles, absolutely out of time to the music. Immediately stewards rush to calm the panicking lobster, and Woll Smoth cries out in shock.
"FRONK!” he screams. "NO! GOD DOMMOT, FROOOOONK!”
Fronk the Lobster is escorted from the ring, and Woll Smoth leaps down from the massive claw, unharmed, but badly shaken up.
"Mr Pimpletopper, are we quite ready for Quon Olozoboth?”
"Yes, Mrs Spinks, we are.”
Out rides...
The crowd gasps in shock, then the announcers and everyone in attendance rises to their feet, throwing their arms to the sky in a massive, adoring, thundering roar of surprise and joy.
"Captain Redd! Captain Redd has taken Quon Olozoboth's place, Mrs Tinglebottom!”
"Oh, happy day, Mr Spinks! This truly is an honour for us all! Will he be freestyling or adhering to Quon Olozoboth's music selection?”
The speakers start to play Morning Musume's Onna Ni Sachi Are and the crowd starts to go into hysterics. The commentators are both sobbing helplessly as Redd effortlessly performs a flawless pattern of tempi changes, passages, piafes, extended canters and pirouettes. He's only stopped when the youth and denizens cannot withhold their joy any longer and as one they mob the arena floor.
The camera cuts out, reading "Temporary Difficulties Please Stand By! Back in ten minutes!”
Exactly ten minutes later order has been restored and the arena floor is cleared except for a winner's stand with first, second and third places with spaces for the lobsters behind the riders. Woll Smoth stands in third place, Fronk's bridle in his grip, and Tront Roznor stands slightly higher at second place. Redd, of course, stands in the champion's spot, but instead of a lobster...
Kage stands there, arms folded over his chest. He looks utterly unamused and he glares murderously towards the camera, only staying where he is by sheer force of will. His jaw is clearly grinding as Redd lowers the traditional wreathe around his shoulders and starts to spray him with a bottle of champagne while laughing.
Cameras flash and Kage seethes, and Redd waves gaily to the cameras in the middle of a sea of complete adoration. After a few moments Kage turns and stalks away, the tips of his ears bright red, a camera following until Kage looks back with hell in his eyes and punches an interviewer straight in the mouth. One step and a raised fist, and the camera man decides to focus on Redd instead.
The camera swings back to look at the commentators' box, and... well, they're giant, talking plants, their tentacles flailing madly and uncontrollably in their joy. Redd winks at the camera, and the feed shuts off.
Now wasn't that special.
After that exciting display of the finest lobster riders on the island, the passengers will find themselves transported yet again, to Fa Wang's Lobster Ranch! A large area has been cleared, and tables covered with finger food, candy, punch, and all number of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages have been lined up neatly. Beside the tables is a robust grill and all manner of meat, seafood and vegetables ready to be grilled. Barrels of hay are scattered around the edges of the fenced area for people to use as seating. Fa Wang himself is offering lobster rides and petting, and is also DJing the music! What a multitasker.
Once they are whisked to the party, passengers may come and go as they please.
(( OOC: SORRY SORRY SORRY I got home late just pretend this was posted an hour and a half ago ;A;))
Unfortunately the passengers have been seated very far back, all the front row seats have little "Reserved" tags on them. As the denizens of the island take their seats in the large coliseum and the show flickers to brilliant colour on all the comms (ensuring everyone gets a front row seat to this remarkable competition), a man and woman comment from a box above. "-- citement is really palpable in this arena. Three riders remain in a dead heat for the glory of hanging that wreathe around their lobster's chelipeds. I haven't seen such a fine display of lobster dressage in quite some time, and it's sure to really stand out as an event to be talked about.”
"Quite right, Mr Pimbletopper. First, the contenders will take to the ring-a nice, pedestrian touch we introduced last year, and helps us connect with the young folk the beauty of the bond between rider and lobster-"
"And nothing is more important than our future, Mrs Spinks, the children. But not our children's children because children really shouldn't be getting each other pregnant.”
"Exactly so, Mr Pimbletopper. All children in the audience, please do not impregnate your peers, no matter how much fun it may seem at the time.”
"I think it's about to begin and... yes, here comes the nine year old Norweigan orange-tail ridden by Tront Roznor. Quite a slim breed, but we'll see how it holds up to the rigorous championship course. Second is the eight year old Atlantic pincer with Woll Smoth riding, and whuff-look at that canter. You can really see the breeding in the barrel and the stifle, all the way back to how it fully extends the hock and ursopods."
"Truly, a gorgeous specimen with a very skilled rider from the north shore of the island. Last but certainly not least is Quon Olozoboth atop her Pacific long-whisker, quite a spritely young thing of only four years. It has a truly splendid carapace, very shiny, and all these competitors look to be in tip-top form."
A very orange looking lobster skitters out with a very angry young man in the saddle, a silk top hat at a jaunty angle on his long-haired head. There is a pause and the music starts up. Immediately the two in the booth begin chattering, totally ruining the experience.
"Tront Roznor is first and he told us that we could expect something quite dramatic, so here we go. Mm, yes, is that-"
"Yes, I believe that is a double-canter pirouette and in one-tempo, Mrs Spinks-"
"Very dramatic indeed. Just a repeat there... very, very good pirouette.”
"Almost picking the left hind legs dead up on the spot.”
"Fantastic reach with the pincers, Mrs Spinks, but I don't know if he's kept a proper angle in that half-pass...”
The orange lobster's legs are just whirring around, a complicated blur as Tront Roznor dances with his lobster in time to the cheery, upbeat music playing through tinny loudspeakers. He glowers at the cameras. You can feel his deep loathing for all vertebrates.
"Ohh, and this is really his forte, isn't it, Mr Pimbletopper. Just look at the height and freedom. Really, it's like viewing a bird on the wing.”
After about twenty more seconds of dainty claw-work, Tront Roznor skitters off the ring to thunderous applause from the audience. Another young man enters the ring, and this lobster is enormous and a deep blue, one claw absolutely mammoth.
"Next is Woll Smoth with that beast of an Atlantic pincer.”
"Next is Woll Smoth with that beast of an Atlantic pincer.”
"I think Tront Roznor has really shocked the competition into another gear, so Woll Smoth will really have to show some excellent spirit if he wants to win, Mrs Spings. I believe Smoth's music choice is something called... Lody Mormolode?”
Lady Marmalade explodes through the speakers, the volume much too high and the audience shrieks in delight as the massive blue lobster wags its fanlike tail in time with the beat.
"That's a spectacular half-pass in a canter, and it looks like-Oh my God!”
The Atlantic blue suddenly reaches back and grabs Woll Smoth in its mammoth claw and rips him from the saddle, waving him about as it gallops in circles, absolutely out of time to the music. Immediately stewards rush to calm the panicking lobster, and Woll Smoth cries out in shock.
"FRONK!” he screams. "NO! GOD DOMMOT, FROOOOONK!”
Fronk the Lobster is escorted from the ring, and Woll Smoth leaps down from the massive claw, unharmed, but badly shaken up.
"Mr Pimpletopper, are we quite ready for Quon Olozoboth?”
"Yes, Mrs Spinks, we are.”
Out rides...
The crowd gasps in shock, then the announcers and everyone in attendance rises to their feet, throwing their arms to the sky in a massive, adoring, thundering roar of surprise and joy.
"Captain Redd! Captain Redd has taken Quon Olozoboth's place, Mrs Tinglebottom!”
"Oh, happy day, Mr Spinks! This truly is an honour for us all! Will he be freestyling or adhering to Quon Olozoboth's music selection?”
The speakers start to play Morning Musume's Onna Ni Sachi Are and the crowd starts to go into hysterics. The commentators are both sobbing helplessly as Redd effortlessly performs a flawless pattern of tempi changes, passages, piafes, extended canters and pirouettes. He's only stopped when the youth and denizens cannot withhold their joy any longer and as one they mob the arena floor.
The camera cuts out, reading "Temporary Difficulties Please Stand By! Back in ten minutes!”
Exactly ten minutes later order has been restored and the arena floor is cleared except for a winner's stand with first, second and third places with spaces for the lobsters behind the riders. Woll Smoth stands in third place, Fronk's bridle in his grip, and Tront Roznor stands slightly higher at second place. Redd, of course, stands in the champion's spot, but instead of a lobster...
Kage stands there, arms folded over his chest. He looks utterly unamused and he glares murderously towards the camera, only staying where he is by sheer force of will. His jaw is clearly grinding as Redd lowers the traditional wreathe around his shoulders and starts to spray him with a bottle of champagne while laughing.
Cameras flash and Kage seethes, and Redd waves gaily to the cameras in the middle of a sea of complete adoration. After a few moments Kage turns and stalks away, the tips of his ears bright red, a camera following until Kage looks back with hell in his eyes and punches an interviewer straight in the mouth. One step and a raised fist, and the camera man decides to focus on Redd instead.
The camera swings back to look at the commentators' box, and... well, they're giant, talking plants, their tentacles flailing madly and uncontrollably in their joy. Redd winks at the camera, and the feed shuts off.
Now wasn't that special.
After that exciting display of the finest lobster riders on the island, the passengers will find themselves transported yet again, to Fa Wang's Lobster Ranch! A large area has been cleared, and tables covered with finger food, candy, punch, and all number of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages have been lined up neatly. Beside the tables is a robust grill and all manner of meat, seafood and vegetables ready to be grilled. Barrels of hay are scattered around the edges of the fenced area for people to use as seating. Fa Wang himself is offering lobster rides and petting, and is also DJing the music! What a multitasker.
Once they are whisked to the party, passengers may come and go as they please.
(( OOC: SORRY SORRY SORRY I got home late just pretend this was posted an hour and a half ago ;A;))