Ah, this was the life. Relaxing. No students. No ugly plant. Nothing but sitting out in the garden relaxing with a mint julep and another rollicking roller coaster of a chapter in his novel.

[ooc: Open.]

Edmund stared at the plant.

The plant stared did not stare at Edmund.

He blinked.

The plant remained smirkingly planty.

It gave him the creeps.

Stupid kids.

Edmund was working on his memoirs. Again. This time he'd gotten so far as to use a computer.

Then he was suddenly having what could only be termed a panic attack.

Fingers? All there. He took off his shoes. Toes? All there.

With a huge amount of trepidation, he peeked inside his trousers. All there.

Right. All in his head. He headed to the kitchen to pour himself a bottle of brandy.

Rap, rap, rap.

Edmund glanced up at the door and decided to ignore it.

Rap, rap, rap.

Nope. Not listening.

Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, rap.

Dammit, what?

Edmund slapped his newspaper down and got up to answer the door.

"No. No. No. I do not want a green dog. No."

He shut the door and went to sit back down again.

There was a green dog sitting in his chair.

[ooc: Open to Screwtape, if he so desires. Otherwise, I'll just play with myself.]

Edmund had gone to school long enough to leave a note on his office door.

Then he had gone home, to sit in the garden and drink tea. Interspersed with nips from a flask.

[ooc: Open if you want.]

I play Blackadder and Nanny Ogg sings2hedgehogs. (And Walter, who isn't here yet.)

I am leaving for Sakura-con tomorrow. I won't be available for play or admin-ly type things until Monday. I'll pop in when I can, but Screwtape's on his own for oppressing the village for a few days. Torment him, give pie to his player.

If you need to contact me and would prefer not to bother with email or IM, you may leave me a message here. All posts are screened for your privacy.

You have reached the voicemail for Principal Blackadder. Don't take my not answering my telephone as a sign that I don't care. Take my telling you directly that I don't care as a sign that I don't care.

However, if that fails to dissuade you, leave a message after the beep.

Faculty/Staff
Edmund Blackadder
J.H. Blenner aka Alucard
El Mariachi
John Tregarth
Dr. Harleen Quinzel aka Harley Quinn
Major Montana Max (Hellsing canon, not Tiny Toons)
Greebo

Villagers
Screwtape
Papa Midnite
Famine
John Kramer
The Liquornimals
Aerith Gainsborough
Angela Dodson
Domino
Nathan Dayspring Askani'son aka Nathan Summers aka Cable
Nanny Ogg

Students
Pippi Longstocking
Walter Dornez
Pip Bernadette
Nadia Santos
Cassie Hughs
Allen Francis Doyle
Susan Ivanova
Thelma Bates
Faith
Saki Hanajima
Buffy Summers
Anya Jenkins
Xander Harris
Miyu
Sakurazuka Seishirou
L; Ryuuzaki
Fujiko Mine

Provisional (i.e. we need the "bodies")
Molotov Cocktease

This journal will be used for another game starting soon. Please de-friend if you aren't involved in the other game or interested in watching for whatever reason.

Edmund slowly made his way home. Those two monsters who had knocked him out and duct taped him like a mummy in his own flat were now in the clinic. "Possessed," their friends said. "Not their fault," their friends said. Edmund disgustedly parroted the words to himself.

"Bloody rampaging ruffians," Edmund grumbled to himself. He kicked Baldrick's dog house on his way into the store and noted that at least the store hadn't been vandalized by those two.

"Treasure," he aped. "My dear." Repulsive.

And his flat? Dear mother of all messes.

Muttering imprecations, he began moving and setting all of his furniture that remained in usable condition outside the shop. He left a necklace with a silver St. Jude medallion and a meticulously kept journal sitting on the counter by the cash register. As evidence or to return to their owners, he hadn't decided.

[ooc: Sitting outside the store is a wide selection of genuine pieces stolen liberated stolen from Prince George's living quarters. Yes, Edmund is throwing out priceless antiques with historical value. Granted, the pieces haven't aged that much in subjective time, but they're from the late 1700s. Looking to refurnish? Now would be the time to do it for free.]

Edmund is behind the counter reading Anton Chekhov's Short Stories. No reason. Really. He just likes literature.

Baldrick is restocking the produce and muttering about tomatoes - a cautionary note for those who buy A&S produce, he touches it.

All and Sundries is open.

All and Sundries can and will function as a general store, however, its true purpose is to obtain those special items you just can't get elsewhere. By hook and by crook, Blackadder and his faithful, if rancid, sidekick, Baldrick, will obtain it for you - for a fee, of course.

For purposes of game play. I will endeavor to start an All and Sundries post on a 4 to 5 days a week basis. However, the store will be open seven days a week. If I have not started one and you have need for turnips all or sundry, feel free to kick and mod Baldrick, who sleeps in a doghouse by the front door, and he will open the shop for you. In that case, just don't do any lasting damage to the smelly man or the shop.

It is located at 21 Loon Drive.

For those of you unfamiliar with Blackadder, you can start with wikipedia. The IG Blackadder is Blackadder the Third, former (for the sake of FH) butler to the Prince of Wales. He is caustic, acerbic, sarcastic, and downright mean... unless it serves him to be nice. You'll be able to tell which he has decided about you fairly readily. He is, however, clever and resourceful, with an eye for the ladies.

"What is this thing...?"

Sounds of fumbling and a faint voice in the background.

"Shut up Baldrick. Right..."

Sound of wrinkling paper.

"Right. You have reached All and Sundries. If you have a special request, a deposit is required because I don't trust you. If you're phoning for Baldrick... kill yourself. Now. If you're phoning for me, leave your name, telephone number, and if you are female, a full description, and I shall ring you back if I feel like it."