Bulldrek v3.0

It's pancake day! Yay! Numy numy pancakes!

*Runs round in circles tossing pancakes with his frying pan.*

mmmmmmmmmmm. pancakes. hotcakes. flapjacks. i miss any? doesn't matter, they're all good.

Waffles!

Steak and Cakes man, the pancakes with a skinny ham steak inside!

Billy Bob's Belt Bustin' Breakfast Buffet, there's nothin' Bettah.

Sorry can't go there. No car, no money. Makes me sad. :cry

Cazmonster wheels up in the ELECTRIC MAYHEM a flaring yellow double decker bus loaded with partygoers and weapons.

C'mon LDH, we're goin' to Billy Bobs!

Most excellent! Caz is my hero.

*Hops into the ELECTRIC MAYHEM*

Tosses Caz a bus token.

Yeah! A smoke and a pancake!

Hah! Caught you trying to sneak on the bus!

*Grabs hobbes by the scruff of the neck in his teeth, and drags him inside the bus.*

Nobody sneaks on board the ELECTRIC MAYHEM! You want on, just walk in.

But, as I could go for some pancakes and meat right now, you can come along hobbes.

How weird is this? I'm having waffles for dinner.

*Pulls Sal into the ELECTRIC MAYHEM*

This is a road trip so you're coming too.

Cazmonster and the crew head north, into Lumber Country, looking for that big stretch of I-70 that will take them to Billy Bob's Belt Bustin' Breakfast Buffet, where they keep the gravy in a galvinized tub and cook biscuits the size of plates.

Can't wait for the breakfast!

*In Cazmonster's rear view mirror, you could make a flaming sword chasing in mad rush to catch the bus.*

Chocolate Chip Pancakes, j0!

THE ELECTRIC MAYHEM slows down and Flameblade dashes aboard. Now the bulldrekkers are not far from the North Woods and the lovely food that only Billy Bob can provide for them. But they will have many travails to face before digging into that bountiful repast of griddle cakes, sausage and eggs. For you see, the woods are alive with all manner of fell beasties, like Rogue Canadians, Evil Lumberjacks and the dreaded WEREMOOSE!

Cazmonster is driving along, happily retelling stories of fifty-tall stacks of cakes and buckets of buttered maple syrup when an alert flashes across the tactical display of the bus. It seems that some of the nearby residents have taken note of the Bulldrekker Road Trip and plan to do it harm...

*Hops in really quick as Caz drives by*

So where are we going, again?

"Billy Bob's but first I think we might wind up in a tussle. I hear banjo music in the background."

Quite suddenly, the ELECTRIC MAYHEM comes under savage musket assault by both the Hatfields and the McCoys.

Oh, okay.. OI! Damn hicks!

*Szech starts decapitating hillybillies with his chains*

*Arches his spine, firing hellfire spikes out at the attackers on the left.*

Kwyn, can you keep them occupied up here? I'm going to kick open the back doors and throw stuff at them.

Stink bomb time!

Fun fun fun!

*ducks around and helps Szechuan.*

*Starts tossing old paint cans, Rolling Rock bottles, and other assorted nastiness out of the trunk*

We have a trunk?

*Is so surprised he neglects to provide covering fire.*

ACK!

Kwyn, keep shooting!

You sure are demanding this space/time axis.

*Blasts the attackers with some coldfire napalm.*

That should keep them busy for a while.

Good. Now for PANCAKES!

And Lo, the great and vast Billy Bob's rises from the North Woods like some rough timbered temple to gastronomic events and breakfast enjoyment.

Waffle, waffle.

mmmmmmmmmmm... pancakes.

Okay, think about if you could get the most intense breakfast of your life, the most outrageous food, the finest ingredients, all of those things. That's what's inside Billy Bobs. Now everybody run before the Weremoose stalks and kills us.

Cazmonster high-tails it inside, not wanting to be weremoosechow.

A regular moose is so stupid it'll run ONTO a road to get away from an oncoming car.
How smart is the Weremoose?

*Cracks his knuckles, somehow.*

Time to go hand to hand. All I need to do is make sure it doesn't hit me...

*Dashing with the speed of thousand kittens on crack, Kwyndig charges the weremoose, moving in for the hamstring, then the jugular slash, and finally, the spinal severing...*

*Of course, all of Kwyndig's plans assume the weremoose isn't holding back...*

Kwyndig's plans would have worked perfectly, except for the mighty beasts rack of razor sharp antlers that fairly crackle with natural magic. As the werekitten scrambled toward the beasts neck, it slashed down, catching Kwyndig with more than a dozen spear-like hornlets. The kitty was then thrown aloft as the weremoose roared in pain from a ruined leg. Blinded by one destroyed eye, Kwyndig could not correct before his back smashed against the unmoving timber of a massive fir tree.

The beast leapt for the cover of the other side of the ELECTRIC MAYHEM and channeled its energies into regenerating the wound it recieved from Kwyndig's claws.

Ouchies

*Kwyndig slumps to the ground, his spine broken.*

That thing hits harder than I thought... Time for plan B.

*In a haze of pain as he regenerates his damaged nervous system with spellcraft, Kwyndig activates his link to the Orbiting Volcano Lair.*

Isis online. Warning, physical data exceeds safe damage parameters. Activate clone pod?

Belay that Isis. I've got it under control... *hack* *cough* I want an RRT down here. Get me a regenerator, Isis, somebody good with a weapon. You should have one or two in cold storage, prep them for launch.

Negative, Lord Kwyndig. All regenerators are currently offline due to advanced trial failure. Quantum regeneration field failure occured in all six test subjects. Approximately six hours until Primary Unit recovers, three days for Secondary and Tertiary Unit recovery. Remaining three Units scrapped, unrecoverable.

Shit, get me Frankenchokie...

Confirmed, transporting subject 'Frankenchokie'. Warning, transport target is currently outside of range of control implant, probability of Omega level event is 35%.

Just do it Isis... *cough* That patchwork monster is the only thing I've got left that's operational.

*A shimmering in the air prefaces the arrival of Frankenchokie, who falls from the sky.*

*Dusts self off.*

Huh, who moose? FRANKENCHOKIE KILL!

*With a heave of his mighty thews, Frankenchokie smashes the weremoose in the face with a single massive fist. Headless of the damage he receives, Frankenchokie grabs the momentarily stunned weremoose and tries to crush its throat with both hands.*

Ah's severed head rolls it's eyes at the scene.

Whoa! lookit that! Hey, I have an idea!

AH's severed head chokes out a few alien syllables, and a massive Gay Saber-toothed Dire Moose, standing 6 meters at the shoulder, appears.

Go get 'im boy! Nail that were-moose like you're in a yaoi!

But - as to why you came on this adventure...

Activate Storyteller mode:
There are legends of a breakfast palace beyond compare. It is here that truckers, lumberjacks and longshoremen develop their titanic guts. Even sumo wrestlers and samoan islanders cannot top the gastronomic feats witnessed within these rough-timbered temples to obesity.

A giant of a man owns the first of these places - the mighty Billy Bob Brubaker. Billy Bob carries more than four hundred pounds on his six foot ten frame. He has a belt-buckle in solid gold large enough to put a 24-oz T-Bone steak on. Even in the depths of hellish southern summers, he wears his red-checked flannel shirt, rolled to the elbow and open far enough to display a thicket of greying chest hair over an a-shirt. His dark blue jeans always seem to be on the edge of bursting, held in place by a white flour-sack apron.

These are his words... You can almost hear his thick, cigarette-roughened voice through the scent of baking biscuits and the sound of frying bacon.

"Down here at Billy' Bob's Belt Bustin' Breakfast Buffet, we know how t' treat yeh right. We keep breakfast hot on the griddle twenty four hours a day. You c'mon down and we'll russle ye'up the finest food you've ever clapped eyes on. Y'hear me."

The expanse of Billy Bob's is before you. There are four long buffet bars of food. Behind them are dozens of workers, all dressed in jeans, workshirts, aprons, and baseball caps. The caps read with the logos of pesticide, seed or tractor companies. They fry eggs, roll biscuits, deep-fry and generally try to keep up with the truckers and laborers as they trundle through the lines with a dignity born of two hundred extra pounds of fat.

The tables and booths are all extra-large, for plenty of room for that beergut or spare tire. And none of it is weak either - it's all two by four construction and would probably giggle if a tornado came a knockin'. There's a light blue fog of cigarette smoke through the whole of the place - the ventilators obviously work only well enough to keep people from dying of second hand smoke poisoning.

"Here at Billy Bob’s, we keep the defibrillator charged and warmed up, for those inconvenient arterial blockages. We also have wheelbarrow service. If you can't eat no more, we'll haul your carcass out to your truck at no charge."

"At Billy Bob’s, we will chicken-fry anything you like: Ham, Eggs, Bacon, Canadian Bacon, Potatoes and, of course, fried chicken and steak."

"When you come to Billy Bob’s, try our famous Biscuit Platter. Unlike other restaurants, this is not a platter with a couple o’ teenie-weenie biscuits on it, but rather a single biscuit, the size of a Thanksgiving turkey platter, that we split for you, and you can take through our buffet line to top with anythin’ you please, and then we finish you off with a generous dousing of Auntie Bess’s sausage gravy."

"Here at Billy Bob’s, we serve our gravy out of a galvanized tub!"

"At Billy Bob’s, we serve mah cousin Betty Sue’s four-time Kickapoo County Fair winnin’ grits, made with real, 100% gen-you-ine lard, and Betty Sue’s secret ingredaments."

"Are you feelin’ like a South of the Border breakfast? Try our Ranch-hand Huevos Rancheros. We take scrambled eggs, ham, sausage, bacon, and bits of chicken-fried steak, stuff ‘em all into a extrey-large tor-tiLLa with some onions, green peppa, and some habanyeero peppers, and deep-fry that bad boy. Then it’s presented to you covered in salsa and sausage gravy! Whooo-eee, that’s a treat!"

"Or mebbe you're a'hankerin' some 'Merikin fare. We cook ourselves up a fine steak and cake. That's right - it's a quarter-inch ham steak inside of a doublethick pancake. Perfect for your choice of syrups. We keep Vermont maple on the table alongside RC cola syrup and Green River - for those of you that laik summin' different."

http://pub11.ezboard.com/fbulldrekfrm21 ... =1&stop=20

I love gravy! I bath in gravy! I soak in gravy until my skin turns all pruny.

But this thread is a mockery! Everyone knows that the almighty WAFFLE beats the wimpy pancake anyday! The flat, featureless pancake is no match for a Waffle's squares of doom!

Cazmonster drops sixty pounds of stuffed waffles in Nightsky's lap.

The big man don't do waffles often, but them suckers are stuffed with cheese or bananas or somethin' else amazing. Eat up and then we'll compare.

The cyberfreak is sitting in front of easily eighty pounds of waffles in four stacks.

We need Butter!

One of Billy Bob's flannel and denim and floursack clad minions jounces out of the back area and drops a gravy boat with at least a gallon of melted butter in front of Nightsky. He whispers that the third mystery ingredient is sauted apple with pork sausage and then huffs and puffs back to the kitchen. Cazmonster seems to already be equipped with butter, powerdered sugar and Green River syrup.

Right! Commence the eatin'!

Cazmonster messily devours half a dozen waffles in a single bolting chomp. He's gurgling with pleasure as the fillings mix and combine into perfect breakfasty harmony.

It's Waffle Time!

*Crawls in, painfully.*

Oh, there you are. My monster isn't done with the weremoose, but as Frankenchokie isn't alive to begin with, it can't be killed. *Cough*

Now, I need lots of calories to finish putting myself back together, somebody get me a chicken-fried fried chicken. That's right, fry it twice.

*Limps over to Caz and Nightsky, and takes a seat.*

Um, can I get a booster?

Of course you can have a booster seat! Uhm, you do worship the Waffle, not the pancake, right?

*Scarfs some bacon*