A sign outside the double-wooden doors, each with a glass oval balanced on their points in the center, says the following:

All LPI eat free, navy and LSF pay triple.

As you (all my posts that use 'you' assume that 'you' are an LPI officer) push open the left door, your senses are assaulted. You see that half the cafe is dominated by solely the LPI, while the other half contains a plethora of traders, merchants, and quite a few non-reputable looking men and women. You turn to the left by habit, to the LPI side. Sitting in the only chair that was made of elaborate curves and heavily cushioned, Matt Myers was bantering with his underlings in a way that suggested two things: one, he's quite amiable outside the workplace, and two, he's an idiot. You hear the roar of several overlapping conversations present in all places where people meet freely and are permitted to talk; you also hear quite a few outbursts at laughter, mostly from the LPI side. You smell the warm, cozy scent of baking bread, pastries, donuts, as well as the rich aroma of freshly-ground coffee. Your mouth waters at the expectation, though as yet unfulfilled, of munching on a warm, melt-in-your-mouth croissant, muffins, eclairs, and of course the holy grail, donuts.

As your sense of sight observes Matt Myers, you do a double take, then with all the force of your will run out and down the crowded cosmopolitan hallway to the LPI recruitment office. Matt Myers sat behind the desk there, snoring away, as Sergeant Tom Jonas glared at everything that moved by the door -- you especially. Shrugging, you return to Sunbucks, and join your compatriots in getting blissfully drunk on coffee and donuts, the glaze making your fingers and lips sticky.

OOC: All are welcome to post here, and if my posts aren't in direct response to someone else's, they will be in second person, assuming that you are an LPI officer every time.

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Jim Markey entered the room, his feet moving over the line dividing the LPI side from that of the fools. As he sat down in his favorite booth, he smoothly stepped on a conveniently placed banana peel. As he fell, his eye rested on his brother Jeff, who was trying very hard indeed to smother a hearty guffaw. He failed. As his laughter echoed through the cafe, patrons turned to see what was so amusing. At the sight of Jim on the floor, his flab preventing him from rising, they joined in the chorus of joy.

Jim was not amused. This incident would have to be dealt with quickly and smoothly. Turning his head to face his brother, he loosed a verbal torrent of abuse and general statements of unhappiness. He also railed on about how Jeff would have his paperwork ration doubled, his toothpaste removed , and his bomber refitted to make it inhospitable for the presence of donuts, his eye noticed something. Ordinarily, an eye should not be able to notice things of its own accord, but since his brain so long ago disconnected, it had to make do.

---

Larry Morrison ran into the bar, after a long day of hiding, being nervous, and generally not feeling good. He couldn't have asked for more as it was, but seeing as the new Sunbucks was back in operation he felt as close to on top of the world as was possible. He leaned in on his knees to catch his breath and found himself staring at a large mass of LPI. The pile of uniformed fat shifted strangely, and Larry quickly realized that it was trapped by its own mass. He let out a little laugh, then looked down again; it was Jim, and he was not amused. Fearing promotion, Larry began backing away slowly.

"Sorry, er, I, uh, just, um, thought of something funny that happened earlier... um, I'll go get, err, something, um... forklift? Yeah, forklift..."

At that point Larry edged past the door and turned to flee wholeheartedly, momentarily forgetting his eternal hunger for donuts.

---

You walk in to see Matt Myers with a whip in his hand, and three LPI officers slaving over some wooden construction with hammers and other such implements. A loud banging fills Sunbucks, but the patrons on the non-LPI side give it no notice.

"Work faster, ya daft foos!" yells Myers, cracking the whip.

As you continue watching for some time, it takes shape into a... gallows? Myers pulls a length of rope out of his pants pocket, and you know you're right.

"Dis be a summary execution, to clear out da riff-raff 'n' set 'n example to all da foos"

"But I didn't do anything!" yells some person that is held in by the wall of flab that is four LPI officers.

"Tell it to da judge!"

"But I tried, and all you did was laugh and slap me!"

"Hmmm... court be convenin' here tomorrow, at 4PM sharp, Judge Myers presidin'. Foo."

"WHAT?! You're not a judge!"

"Shut it, guilty-boy" Followed by a slap.

The LPI, with much grumbling under Myer's direction, reconfigures their half of Sunbucks into a courtroom.

---

The entire LPI half of Sunbucks now resembled a courtroom; the benches that would normally seat ten had about four LPI officers to each, the gallows stood off to the side, and there was an LPI prosecuting team and an LPI defense team with the poor man who had been picked out. Matt Myers sat behind the judge's desk, hammer in hand. The jury was mysteriously missing. You sat third row, watching as it proceeded.

"Wait, where's the jury?" asked the defendant.

"There be no jury, foo. Dis be a fascist court. I gonna list off da crimes and find ya guilty."

"WHAT?!"

"Da crimes be: slander, conduct unbecomin' o' a civilian, profanity in da presence o' a lady, gross insubordination, 'n' to top it all off, murder in da ninth degree"

"Wait, this is bogus! None of those crimes even exist, and what do you mean in the ninth degree? And profanity? In front of a lady?"

"Yes, dey all be real, 'n' punishable by da death sentence. Da ninth degree be meanin' dat one day you walkin' down da street killed some poor foo. And yes, you made poor Officer Mars break down crying in da fetal position yesterday by yer language dat is unfittin' to be repeated!"

At this point Officer Renata Mars raised her hand. "Umm... sir? I never..."

"SILENCE! Da court find ya guilty on all charges, and sentences ya to BURN AT DA STAKE."

"WHAT?!"

"UMm... sir?" Cesar begins. "We haven't put up da stake yet..."

"Oh. Then you," he says pointing at the defendant, "Come o'er here."

The main hesitantly approaches, and Matt beats him on the head with his hammer.

"Court dismissed to the snack bar. And dat, my fine friends, be how da judicial system really works."

---

Jim has, by this time, managed to get up with some help from a sizable crane. Glancing around for a donut, he spotted one hanging out of the unconscious man's shirt pocket. Watching to make sure no one was watching, he nabbed it and took off as fast as he could for a table.

It was an arduous run, all of five feet! When he got there, he was breathing hard and gasping for breath. Sitting down, and in the process causing the seat to sag fearfully, he began to eat the donut with the grace and skill that only long time service in the LPI brings.

---

When Jeff awoke, it was to the sight of a man laying on the ground with a large egg-shaped lump on the backside of his skull. Looking around to make sure no one was watching. They weren't. All of their attention was absorbed by the snack counter that was threatening to leap up and escape, such was the mass of flesh jammed up against it.

Jeff quickly--if taking five minutes to wheeze his way over to the door counts as fast-- made his way out of the crowded room. As he went past a knot of officers, he spied a what could be construed to be a crumpet in a hand. Immediately he raised the alarm!

'EY! HE'S GOT A CRUMPET! BRETONIAN!!!!

Instantly all the officers left the bar and piled on the poor man. Jeff surveyed the damage with a satisfied glance, and then made his way to the food.

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Quintus Romanus walks into the room, and before anyone notices that he's there, he says, loudly:
"NO! I do NOT want any donuts!"
*Quintus signals to his Leigionnarres, the Leigionnarres walk over to a box of donuts and flips it over, and start hacking at it with their Gladiuses.*
"That'll teach you, donut eaters!, Anyway, I want a cup of those caffeine carrying things, you know... brown...?" "Hehe, thanks..."
"...... UNLEASH HELL!!!!!!"
*the leigionnarres chop the table in half*
"Muahahaha!!!, Tally-ho!"
*Quintus turns around with his cape swirviling, then walks toward the doorway, then disapears in darkness...*

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*seconds later, you hear the screams of Quintus as he is buried under over half of the LPI, force fed donuts, and ejected out of Fort Bush in an escape pod with no engines, full of paperwork.*

Joe Smith, looking out of the window sees the escape pod with Quintus and a ton of paperwork in it floating in space. "Dat'll teach 'm fo' da' gross insubordination!!" He then turns to the legionnaires. "ANY O' YU FOOS WANNA GO OU' DERE TO?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" The legionnaires try to escape but are tackled by John Clements, Cezar, Joe, and Jim. Joe then orders 200 boxes of donuts and 100 kegs of coffee (He puts it on Quintus' tab). "GET DA FORKLIFT CEZER!!! WE IS HAVIN A FEAST TONITE!!!!!!"


Shawn Spencer looks up from his crossword puzzle as this happens. He then pretends that he dosnt know any of these people. "This is why im a detective" he thought. He picks up a donut then throws it out the door. All the LPI chase after it. Shawn walks over and locks the door, locking the LPI out and he returns to his crossword puzzle in peace.

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//Admin please delete

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