Hoboken Start 2
From Create Your Own Story
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"Lemme see this!" you shout back, sticking your head out the window into the restaurant. | "Lemme see this!" you shout back, sticking your head out the window into the restaurant. | ||
| - | "He's right, uh..." Ruth trails off, not seeing the unhappy customer at his seat. As she turns back to you to say something else, a bestial figure rolls over the counter and seizes the waitress, dragging her to the floor. It's the man without a jaw! | + | "He's right, uh..." Ruth trails off, not seeing the unhappy customer at his seat. As she turns back to you to say something else, a bestial figure rolls over the counter and seizes the waitress, dragging her to the floor. It's the [[Jimbo Pointytoe|man without a jaw]]! |
What the Hell now? | What the Hell now? | ||
Current revision as of 03:49, 7 August 2010
"TWO PANCAKE NO SYRUP FORTY-SEVEN BACON ½ OMELET DU FROMAGE!" orders the head chef, Big Gordy Reamass. It's breakfast rush time at the Pungent Mussel Diner, and you're lagging sorely behind. You toss an order of pork sausages into a pan of boiling water, almost ready to send out the meal from ten tickets ago.
You're Steve 'Backflip' Legras, a 27-year-old line cook renting a ratty-ass apartment in downtown Hoboken. At the age of 18, you signed up for a 6-year hitch in the Marines and ended up as a sniper in Afghanistan, where you were tarred and feathered by poppy farmers after you tried to make off with the harvest. Though you escaped with your life, your once-beautiful complexion has been suffering ever since.
"Goddammit, Steve!" shouts a waitress into the kitchen. It's Ruth Silver, a grudging aquaintance of yours. Since you met her at a temp job working at the dock, you've been put-off by the fact that she's a short, bitchy know-it-all. "Your scallops just made some guy's jaw fall off!"
You've never seen scallops cause anyone's jaw to fall off, but, having lived in Hoboken for a couple years now, you'd expect that this is the place for it to happen. Still, the scallops are fresh, and you're pretty sure you cooked them well.
"Lemme see this!" you shout back, sticking your head out the window into the restaurant.
"He's right, uh..." Ruth trails off, not seeing the unhappy customer at his seat. As she turns back to you to say something else, a bestial figure rolls over the counter and seizes the waitress, dragging her to the floor. It's the man without a jaw!
What the Hell now?
