More Barry than you can handle [Open log]
Who: Barry the Chopper happytochop, any fellow dancers or anyone who wants to stop by Uranus for any reason.
What: Barry getting into the swing of things as the ships newest exotic dancer.
When: Anytime this month.
Where: Uranus gentleman's club.
Why: Because I can.
How: Prose is preferred but Action Brakets if you want.
Warning: BARRY IN DRAG. THIS IS THE ONLY WARNING YOU WILL RECEIVE.
There were many dancers who performed their trade in Uranus from all walks of life. Some danced because it was the only thing they knew how to do, others danced because it was the only thing the wanted to do. Some of the dancers were slender blue skinned aliens, others were lobster women. It was the clubs policy to hire a variety of dancers to meet it's customers needs. However, there was one dancer who stood out among the rest. One dancer who reeived more stares than any other. Some were full of lust, some were full of disgust. Most were full of sheer unadulterated horror.
There stood Barry, a blonde curly wig replacing the white furry plume that normally donned the top of his helmet. Fake eyelashes looked like they had been put onto place by liberal use of a hot glue-gun. The reddish tint of his normally pearly white bone mask suggested someone taking a tub of blush and just hurling the powdery substance onto his face. The outline of his jagged maw had also been scrawled upon with lipstick. His usual brown poncho had been replaced by a lacy red bra and G-string, both of which were stretched so taught around Barry's massive metal frame that they looked like they were practically drawn on. On his feet were incredibly large red stiletto heels that looked like they were on the verge of collapsing underneath his considerable weight. Finally, a red feather boa completed his outfit. He had it draped across his neck and was playing with one end. Flirtatiously.
What: Barry getting into the swing of things as the ships newest exotic dancer.
When: Anytime this month.
Where: Uranus gentleman's club.
Why: Because I can.
How: Prose is preferred but Action Brakets if you want.
Warning: BARRY IN DRAG. THIS IS THE ONLY WARNING YOU WILL RECEIVE.
There were many dancers who performed their trade in Uranus from all walks of life. Some danced because it was the only thing they knew how to do, others danced because it was the only thing the wanted to do. Some of the dancers were slender blue skinned aliens, others were lobster women. It was the clubs policy to hire a variety of dancers to meet it's customers needs. However, there was one dancer who stood out among the rest. One dancer who reeived more stares than any other. Some were full of lust, some were full of disgust. Most were full of sheer unadulterated horror.
There stood Barry, a blonde curly wig replacing the white furry plume that normally donned the top of his helmet. Fake eyelashes looked like they had been put onto place by liberal use of a hot glue-gun. The reddish tint of his normally pearly white bone mask suggested someone taking a tub of blush and just hurling the powdery substance onto his face. The outline of his jagged maw had also been scrawled upon with lipstick. His usual brown poncho had been replaced by a lacy red bra and G-string, both of which were stretched so taught around Barry's massive metal frame that they looked like they were practically drawn on. On his feet were incredibly large red stiletto heels that looked like they were on the verge of collapsing underneath his considerable weight. Finally, a red feather boa completed his outfit. He had it draped across his neck and was playing with one end. Flirtatiously.