8818/Thanksmisgiving
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| Thanksmisgiving | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 25 November 2021 |
| Location: | Chelsea Market |
| Synopsis: | The ghosts of all those dead turkeys haunt Michelangelo. Or Lang's to blame. |
| Cast of Characters: | Scott Lang, Michelangelo
|
- Scott Lang has posed:
"Stupid stupid stupid," Scott repeats to himself over and over as he runs from one crowded grocer to another. Sure he had the turkey, and the potatos, the vegetables...then Cassie had mentioned, "Where's the stuffing Dad?" His car's tires had literally squealed leaving his driveway to get back to the grocery store to find them empty, leading him deeper and deeper into the city trying to find some. "I should call the Avengers. I bet Tony has a way to track breadcrumbs if I ask nice," he mutters as he shoulders through another crowd only to find another bare shelf with only price tags to mock him. "GAH!" he vocalizes, his hands briefly clutching the sides of his head before he turns and looks about the various storefronts in search of the next that might have even a chance of carrying what he's looking for. At least one shopping bag does dangle from his hand. Frozen pizzas were easy enough to find pre-Thanksgiving, no sense letting the trip become a total waste if need be.
- Michelangelo has posed:
Some ways down the street, there is... a literal human-sized walking turtle coming along, looking over a list he holds in one hand. A literal walking turtle wearing an orange bandana, carrying nunchucks. A ninja turtle, one might say. Now, it /could/ be a man in a ninja turtle suit, but... stranger things have happened than 'walking turtle.'
He's looking at the list in his hand, frowning with all the expressiveness his reptilian face can muster. "Stuffing, stuffing... /can't/ be a Thanksgiving pizza without stuffing..." He looks up. Aha! A store he hasn't been to. Maybe this one has stuffing?
- Scott Lang has posed:
Sure home-made was an option, but Scott was a single Dad who knew how to cook burgers on a grill and make sandwiches most of the time. He needed that precious box of Stove Top to get anything close. Closer now, neither himself nor even most of the crowd take notice of a man-sized turtle, everyone wrapped up in their own last second panic before the stores close and won't reopen for an entire DAY. Madness. Scott grits his teeth and pushes forward when a dumpy manager near the front of the open grocer announces loudly, "This is the last of the stuffing we have people. Get it while it lasts." A scared looking stockboy moves up with a grocery cart full of boxes as the crowd surges like a swarm of sharks smelling blood, the cartful dwindling quickly.
"Emergency enough for me!" Scott says as he slaps a button on his glove. Of course he came in costume under his coat, shopping in New York during the holiday season was always going to be dangerous. Suddenly he seems to all but vanish, the crowd filling in his gap, while a bug-sized man begins to hop forward from shoulder to shoulder through the crowd to get closer to the cart.
- Michelangelo has posed:
Michelangelo is... /just/ aware enough of his surroundings to see a guy /vanish/ right in front of him. He blinks at that, rapidly, but then... it's the last of the stuffing!! Guys vanishing (well, shrinking, but he doesn't know that) happens. Ninjas do that too! So it's not weird. Concerning, but not weird.
Stuffing, though, is /far/ more important, so he makes his way through the crowd. "'Scuse me, pardon me, coming through, hey don't shove!"
Frustrated, he decides to show off a bit, because he's /got/ to get one of those boxes. "Cowabunga Carl, comin' through!" he announces, and jumps into the air, flips over a couple of people, lands right next to the cart. "Ha!" He doesn't have a box in hand yet though.
- Scott Lang has posed:
Mascots. Every place had to have a gimmick these days didn't they? It was pretty impressive the way some kid in a costume managed to jump the crowd he had to admit, a smattering of applause from people. But it barely slowed the pace of those boxes vanishing. With his helmet up Scott locked onto one of the final boxes, zipping off another shoulder and through the wire mesh of the cart. He was nearly impossible to see, a gasp from the crowd as the last box of stuffing in the cart suddenly stands itself up and then jumps up onto the edge of the cart, Scott awkwardly holding it over his head. "Yoink!" he can't help but say to himself as he starts leaping away!
- Michelangelo has posed:
Mikey starts to go for the last box of stuffing--and it sarts moving seemingly on its own! What the /heck/?! "Hey! Wh--no, no, you don't have to pay me," Michelangelo's trying to shake off the store manager. "It's fine, it's cool, I just... hey!"
He snatches for the box, trying to grab it and take it away from the tiny man carrying it away from the cart.
- Scott Lang has posed:
The box leaps to a nearby shelf, clearly avoiding Michelangelo, wobbling a bit as if taunting him. Really it was just Scott trying to keep his balance, holding normal sized objects at this size not the easiest thing to grip, making it impossible to also turn on the speakers in his helmet that might make him audible. He still chatters anyway though, impossible to shut up most of the time. "Back off Timmy Tortoise!" The box begins to leap up further shelves and then starts dashing along back into the store, knocking a few things to the ground as it seems to start escaping with a mind of its own. A few in the crowd who have noticed start videoing on their phones, though many more are already moving on to the next store. "Dammit, this is mine! Back off long enough I can pay for it!" Scott huffs as he tries to find a safe place to set the stuffing down and change back to normal.
- Michelangelo has posed:
The problem here is that now Michelangelo /has/ to know why the box is moving on its own. "Is this box /possessed/? Is it a ghost? It's not Halloween anymore!" He makes a flying leap for the box and instead winds up crashing into a display of canned gravy, sending cans rolling everything.
"Aw, /man/," he grumbles, and gets to his feet. The ghost-possessed stuffing box is going to have to get away from him, because Mikey's the kind of guy that's going to stop to pick up the gravy cans he just knocked over. "Sorry!" he calls to a nearby store employee. "Sorry. Do you guys have, like... a ghost problem or something?"
This poor store. Walking turtles claiming their food is possessed.
- Scott Lang has posed:
"This always happens, every freaking time," Scott complains as if somehow this is a commonplace occurence. The next words are a fair bit more vulgar as he throws himself and the box flat on the top shelf as a massive masked turtle goes leaping over, weird three digit hands just barely missing a grip before there's a massive crash on the other side. Scott winces and peeks over, but sees he finally has his chance as he leaps down and scooted around a corner changes back to a normal scale while his helmet folds back up. With a slightly weary sigh he makes his way to the checkout counter to pay, brow furrowed as he looks down at the box. It was just going to be a small Thanksgiving really. "One more thing real quick!" Scott tells the cashier who rolls their eyes as Scott quickly grabs a box of Ziploc bags.
As Michelangelo is putting the last gravy jar back in place, a Ziploc baggie that looks like it has some potential of getting him arrested for carrying drugs comes sailing over the top shelf and lands smack on his head. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on one's point of view it's not reefer, but about 4 servings worth of pre-made stuffing crammed into the Ziploc.
- Michelangelo has posed:
Michelangelo notices the guy go by with the box of stuffing, but who's going to /honestly/ think that was the same thing as the ghost-box. "I'm telling you," he's saying to the stockboy as he oh-so-helpfully doesn't /really/ help fix the barge of stacked gravy cans, "it was moving on its own! Look, I'm not crazy--okay, yeah, turtle suit, hey by the way do you guys need a masc--"
The ziploc bag of stuffing thwaps him in the head, but he catches it deftly. "Ow! What?" He peers around. Then he grins. "Thanks, ghost-stuffing box dude!" he calls. "That's a /perfect/ amount for Thanksgiving pizza."
Yes, Thanksgiving pizza.
Mikey gives the stockboy a thumbs-up and swipes a can of gravy. "Better safe than sorry! My brothers can get hungry."
