20119/Manor Patrol

Manor Patrol
Date of Scene:	23 February 2025
Location:	The Kitchen
Synopsis:	Cliff hunts rats at Doom Manor, has a close encounter of the cookie kind. Jane is unconvinced as she eats the last of the lunch meat.
Cast of Characters:	Cliff Steele, Kay Challis
Tinyplot:	Threads

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Cliff Steele has posed:
Doom Manor. Saturday night, 11 PM.

At the central kitchen island slouches a golden golem, lantern jaw open stupidly as it sets on a tattered tee declaring allegiance to a band named Death. He sits awkwardly, like a broken doll, his apelike claws cradled in an open lap, carelessly perched atop a reinforced metal stool.

A squeak.

"C'mon, you little fucker. Get the cookie. I know you want it."

A murine snout twitches mischeviously from the back burner of the midcentury stove.

"That's it, just a little bit further. You can do it."

A fat rat darts atop the stove, greedily snatching a large peanut butter cookie between teeth and forefeet, testing it with a nibble.

The buttery treat leaps away in protest, sending its devourer skittering back into the stove and clattering to the floor.

"What in the fuck?"

Cliff rises in confused disbelief, his head cocked as if questioning his own sanity.

SLAM!

The Cliffster spins on his heel at the sound of the door, a pair of clomping feet almost certainly meaning...

"Jane! You've got to get in here! The cookies are rising!"

Kay Challis has posed:
It had been awhile - Jane wasn't one to keep absolute track of days. In fact it was simpler if she told time as today, sometime yesterday, sometime in the past couple of weekmonthish, to sometime *you best not dig too deep*.

She was hungry - really hungry - so she figured now was as good any time to waltz on into the Doom mansion as though nothing had been amiss.

"What? Are you in pain? I don't do well being a sympathetic listener." As she entered the kitchen proper, she snorted. "Come on. Can't you make friends with the wildlife? It is simpler than rolling my eyes everytime you get a bee in your bonnet about.. this."

This was the current contraption Cliff was trying to get the rats out.

Current statistics? Rats 1: Cliff 0

Cliff Steele has posed:
"No! No! Really! I know it sounds crazy, but the cookies are--and I swear to God, Jane--they're alive and they're rising up!"

An agitated Cliffster hurries his housemate into the kitchen.

"Look! Look! Right there! The cookie was right there in the middle of the floor when I left! And where is it now?"

A jabbing finger points to an empty spot in front of the stove, a plate of fresh, delicious-smelling cookies on the counter nearby.

"It's gone! It got up and ran off and its scurried off to God knows where."

The addled automaton leans in conspiratorially.

"They're everywhere. Check your pursue. I'll bet you $50 there's a cookie in there right now."

Kay Challis has posed:
Jane just shakes her head and opens the fridge door, looking for pickles, and something to make a sandwich out of.

"You know that people are going to declare you crazier than I am. That's a lot. Who ate all the cold meat?" As if she wasn't gone for long enough to be out. "Come on. That suc.. oh! Baloney?" She sniffs it and shrugs. "Are you sure that you haven't been eating special cookies?" With quotes around the 'special'.

Cliff Steele has posed:
The Cliffster crosses his arms defensively, turning a jutting chin away in an outright pout.

"Fine! Don't believe me! But when you wake up in the middle of the night with something scurrying around in the bed and there's a plate of cookies on your nightstand that you can't account for, don't come crying to me!"

Grumpily, the golem sits back on his stool, arms still crossed, as he goes back to watching the stove, muttering.

"Nice to see you, Cliff. Gosh, I am so sorry about dropping you off in a warzone, Cliff. Completely uncalled for. And you're right about the cookies, definitely weird."

He maintains his sour composure for about a minute before he sighs it out.

"Anyways... Welcome home, I guess. We missed you."

An unseen women's voice cries out from atop the flight of stairs, sounding quite tipsy.

"Speak for yourself, Clifford!"

"Heh. Yeah, well, not everyone, I guess. But what else is new?"

Kay Challis has posed:
"Ha!" Closing the door to the fridge, nibbling on the baloney. "I wouldn't mind having a special cookie waking me up! I'd eat it!"

She stands there listening to him vetch. "You aren't dead. I would say in the realm of things, you got off lightly. Besides, you know you liked it. Big guns. Big kabooms. You should be thanking me from where I sit."

Jane could be twisting it around so that she doesn't feel guilty. But, then again, she could be serious. It's Jane, after all.

When he welcomes her, she smiles for a moment. "See? Was that so hard?" Then her normal face returns. Sarcastic. Anti-social to a degree. After all, it is Cliff.

Cliff Steele has posed:
"Yeah? Well, so would I--if I had a mouth, Jane! But no, there's cookies everywhere and I can't fucking eat them!"

Cliffy jams a corroded claw into his exterior pocket of his leather jacket angrily, pulling up the smashed remnants of chocolate chip and buttscotch chips. He waves the crumbled confection in front of him as evidence.

"Why do I have cookies in my pocket when I can't eat, Jane? Huh? Explain that to me. Here, you want a 'special' cookie? Help yourself. There's a whole plate of the little buggers that I caught next to the stove."

Our irritated idiot turns to grab the plate, but only crumbs remain. Cliff jumps in excitement.

"Okay! Okay! Tell me you saw those cookies on the counter! They were definitely, 100% there when we came into the kitchen. Back me up here, Jane. I am /not/ crazy!"

Kay Challis has posed:
Jane sighs, and rolls her eyes.

"How do I know why you put cookies in your pocket? I was on vacation. For all I know this was an ulterior move to get sympathy from me. Listen, I can pat you on the back, but do you really want me to? I mean, we both know that it would be false. Right?"

Still, Jane was fast becoming aware of the easiest way to get Cliff off of her back with his nonsense was to play along with him.

"Right. Tell me again what is going on?" At least he wasn't going off on a tangent about the rats!