/me lobs a sack of dried pinto beans and watches as six people skid on the beans and land on their butts.
slips a bucketload of greased banana peels onto the floor, squirts chocolate sauce everywhere, slimes everyone with a big pot of pea soup
shrieks as Anaamika’s Jello tips out over her head
Eyeing Kythereia covered with grape syrup and jello.
Scrambles on the floor for not-quite-empty cans of whipped cream.
Which I adroitly duck, and begin flinging chili back at Harborwolf…oooh, too bad about that nice white shirt!
::walks in and stares horrified::
:eek: :eek: :eek: :eek:
::turns to leave and slips on greased banana peels, slamming into Mr Bus Guy as he scrabbles for the whipped cream cans::
::Chanteuse and Mr Bus Guy land in crumpled heap against the far wall::
Ok folks…sorry about the coconuts. I’ve been instructed on the “no rock-hard food throwing” rule, and will try to be a more careful participant in the future.
starts whipping around generous portions of Cherries Flambé
In a rare, spontaneous act of bravery, shoves Chanteuse before the Flambe hurts someone.
Empties the vending machine and starts lobbing stale Twinkies at Idle Thoughts and juice boxes randomly around the room like so many cardboard grenades.
intercepts one of the twinkies, and munches on it while pouring coffee down Hal Briston’s back
Walks in with watermelons and a sledgehammer and starts imitating Gallegher…
(not to worry. the coffee is kind of luke warm, it’s been sitting on my desk all day)
3 large onions
2 cans beef stock
1 tbs dry sherry
1 tbs worchestershire sauce
1 Tbs butter
French bread
Gruyere cheese, grated
Peel and thinly slice onions. Sweat over low heat with butter in large fry pan until carmelized. Add wet ingredients and bring to a simmer. Place a slice of bread in a heatproof bowl and fill with soup. Top with cheese and broil until cheese is golden brown. Pour down ivylass’s blouse.
:: Runs in with a large sausage and starts flailing away ::
Hey, no fair flailing! The Official Guide Of Food Fights says you must toss, dump or fling. Flailing was prohibited in the Madagascar Covenant, back in’55.
- Ducks a flying sausage, and empties the ice tray onto the floor*
::rises, grabs two pitchers of beer from table, using one to douse small flame in Mr Bus Guy’s hair::
::hurls beer from second pitcher at Hal Briston::
::drops to slippery banana-peel-and pinto-bean-covered floor and crawls toward the door in desperate bid to escape::
:: wearing a string of sausages like a bandoleer ::
Heh. Heh.
:: Tosses sausages in every direction ::
While this is the best action I’ve had since lunch, a food fight is a bit too game-ish and pointless for this forum. (Plus, you know, you get all sticky and stuff and have to explain it to the missus when you get home.)