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[wizard_redfive]

Mom! Daddy! Neeeets!!

[A little girl can be found wandering around the castle halls, calling for her family. In her arms is a journal for "Dairine Callahan." Eventually she reaches the lobby, where she settles on the couch to open the mysterious book. Books have answers, right? Maybe it can help her find her family.]

A book with my name on it? I wonder why. Most books have their author's name on the cover, but I've never written a book. I don't think I've even read this one.

I hope there's a clue on how to get home. Books about magical lands behind closets or rabbit holes are interesting enough, but they never focus on the way back.

((Loss start! Open to action or over journal.))

A Reel Big Fish song only has the number 241 as a lyric

[onlyanapple]

( Casa De Guts )

[That done, Crowley will spend the rest of his time doodling stupid crap in his journal. BORED BORED BORED BORED.

Oh look, it's a dolphin with a top hat and monocle. And another of a T-Rex on a moped]

Fucking hell, I need a vodka.

[[ooc: Journal and open to the people trapped in the theatre]]

Journal the Eighth (open!)

[theabjectauthor]

Good afternoon, everyone, and to those of you with the inclination, a happy St. Patrick's Day.

[Lemony's voice drifts over the journals over the sounds of chopping, rustling, and bubbling, a pretty clear indication that he's in the kitchen. every now and then there's a dusting of something powdery over the page - spices, to be exact]

I suppose I could regale you with the curious details of the holiday, and how it has evolved from the celebration of a man who dedicated his life to crushing the pagan beliefs of a country and converting them to Catholicism, or how that slowly evolved into an Irish-American celebration of culture, yeasty beverages, and the color green in various combinations. But that sort of information is readily available.

Instead, I am here at the request of my dear friend Sunny Baudelaire: as she does not quite have an extensive enough vocabulary, herself, I would like to invite you all to partake of a traditional St. Patrick's Day repast. Sunny is doing most of the preparation, and I am mainly acting as sous-chef, a phrase which here means "one who lifts the heavier things and handles the more dangerous bits of the cooking process".

Incidentally, corned beef - or salt beef, if you're more prone to British slang - became more popular with the Irish upon their immigration to New York, where the salted cuts of beef made available largely through the Jewish butchers of the city were more affordable than the pork they had favored back home on the Emerald Isle. So, if you're worried about the meal being kosher, there's no need for concern.

[at which point, the master chef herself sees fit to pipe up] Oleracea!

OH! Yes, thank you for reminding me. [ahem] Sunny would like me to remind you that it's also delicious when paired with cabbage, carrots and potatoes.

We're looking forward to meeting anyone who would care to come ... and I'll be more than happy to translate for Sunny, as she's eager to meet people.