Oh, thanks! Here is two bits for your troubles. Scott sits and enjoys his coffe, while waiting for capybara to finish his own.
Two bits of what? 
Literal answer: $0.25
Funny(?) answer: a free coupon for a shave, and a haircut.
::plays the riff on his club::
muttermumblepeoplewhohaven’treadCSLewisanddon’tknowthegenderoftheArchonofMarsmumble
Sergeant Krupke, of New York walks up. He doesn’t like me reminding him of the song from West Side Story. Billy-Club versus sword. Who will win?
mumbles about his coding
Whoever doesn’t have a social disease?
Well then-
::Suddenly, a mail courier comes out of nowhere, and delivers mail to everyone, then vanishes offstage. ::
Wu-whoo! My blood donor information came back! I always wanted to say it! ::me speaking to the police officer:: “Right then, fellow-me-lad, you’re nicked.”
Damn it, my letter is just junk mail from the Nature Conservancy again. And they did my name wrong on the labels! I never should have gotten on the Audubon Society’s mailing list. . .
As Scott starts to pour from the thermos, an ancient giant chimichanga drops onto you from the ceiling, making a high pitched noise. It attaches itself to the back of your head and neck and starts chewing. And you take 3 points hot-coffee-damage to your groin.
I search through my pockets for hot sauce to spray on it.
I get Schrodinger’s Cat from my locket and hit the chimichanga with it.
“Hold still, Scott!”
I’ll try to hook the chimichanga off his head with my bill-hook, that well-known precision instrument.
Instead, please try and get the first aide kit ready. Also, anyone with a spell able to over-cook food?
Hot sauce only makes it stronger.
You hit it with Schroedinger’s cat-- this makes it more improbable. Now it is a tasty Finnish chimichanga.
Improbable? Damn it, where is maxwell’s Demon when we need it? Anyone have any sour cream?
Does anyone have any tea?
You have:
no tea
a bit of fluff
You tug at it with the bill-hook, but being deeply deep fried it is not very pliable-- it only sinks its crispy tortilla edges in deeper into Scott’s back. It hisses at you.
Anamiika, Sunspace: Inside the pocket of your bathrobe you find some buffered analgesic.
Why don’t you guys just eat the chimichanga off ScottPlaid?
:: grabs a handful and starts munching ::
Yum!
Dear Og, Anaamika! How do you know that thing isn’t also a face-hugger?
What is this in my pocket? And what’s this letter?
:: rip ::
Dear Sir.
I am Sidney, son and heir of His Dark Majesty Sauron the Great, Lord of Middle-Earth. Recent political events have led to a coup against my father, and my family is now outcast, wandering in the wilderness. Fortunately, the usurpers have not found our family hoard, as sum of 1,200,000 (one million, two hundred thousand) electrum pieces; however, our movements into and out of our ancestral homeland are being watched, and we cannot recover the funds directly.
We need the services of a third party to transfer the funds to friendly hands, and you have been referered to us as a trustworthy intermediary. As a third party, you can receive the funds without suspicion, and then you can transfer them to our agent. For this service we are willing to pay 20% of the total, or 240,000 (two hundred forty thousand) electrum pieces…