OOC: 50 imaginary dollars for the first to name the reference.

We can wrap up this day soon, if you wish; it can be anywhere from mid-afternoon to evening, just narrate what you do or (in the case of the overposting duo) you can ping-pong post.

OOC: The Strong Bad email "dangeresque 3." I plan to ping-pong post, but I think Joe and Mel were going to end up having dinner in the bar where Jim was. For connected-ness (its a word!)

Joe looks at his watch, somehow a little bit o' shopping took a long time.

"Any dinner preference?"

OOC: Me! Here! I'll play it from afternoon-ish. Like 12:20.

Rolf wakes up grumbling, slamming his hand onto the alarm clock next to his bed. It takes him a second to realize that it wasn't even going off in the first place. Oh no, I didn't sleep through it again, did I? He looks at it, and sees with horror that slept through it, indeed... by a LOT. It's now 20 minutes after noon, and he's just a bit late to school.

He jumps out of bed, cursing in his native German tongue. He tosses on his nearest pair of jeans and a polo shirt, grabs his bookbag and heads downstairs. Why do my host parents have to leave for work so early? They're never here to remind me to wake up, this is the fourth time this year this has happened!

On his way out the front door, he grabs his favorite football (soccer) and dribbles quickly down his driveway and begins the 10-minute jog to the school, all the while practicing his moves with the ball. Even though he never even looks down, the ball stays on his feet perfectly, as if held there with velcro. As he passes his elderly neighbor doing a bit of gardening, he smiles and waves, calling out, "Heya Mr. Johnson!"***

He eventually arrives at the school and goes immediately to the front office. "I'm very sorry, I slept in today! What period is it now?"

***Please read all Rolf's dialogue with a German accent. Saves me the trouble of writing it phoenetically that way, donchaknow.

OOC: How old is Herr Deichmann? I believe you put his age as 19, but your post inferrs High Schiool, as the nearby Community College is a town away. Whatever though.

"Waggs it is."

Joe grins. Waggs is a little bar he and his friends frequented during high school (for the food, of course). Best burgers in town, and in several of the nearby towns as well. Joe takes his hat off of Mel's head, and pulls it on his own. Another few minutes and Joe finds a parking spot out front. He heads down the stairs to the below-ground-level front enterance to the tiny bar.

Jim sits at the bar, the burger and onion rings he'd ordered having just been placed before him. A half empty mug of dark beer sits next to the plate as Jim grins at something the bartender had just said.

He looks up as the two enter, nodding a greeting to Joe.

Joe touches his finger to his forehead in greeting, and takes a seat at the table for four right inside the door, against the wall. When the girl comes with the menus, Joe asks for a coke, no ice.

OOC: Yes, he is indeed 19. In my high school, 19-year-old seniors weren't so uncommon, especially the exchange students, since their year structure differs from ours.

Melanie has some water and orders herself a regular burger.

So this party, is there a theme this year?

"So you think the team has a chance this year? Despite Hickman's inability to complete any kind of pass?"

Jim continues the conversation he'd been having with the bartender. His ribbing of the man's support of the high school team was a longstanding joke between them.

"I don't think so. Or at least noone told me. Hopefully it's a 'ladies dress sexily, and then go home with Joe Flanagan' theme."

Joe crosses himself, and raises his eyes to the ceiling for a moment.

"But I doubt it."

Then he raises his voice.

"They're gonna suck! I wouldn't support that rabble if ya paid me to!"

Joe raises his fist beligerantly, and then grins, obviously joking.

Melanie grins into her drink.

Heh, feeling better?

"I need to get out of here, Mel. I wanna get back to college. Its suffocating."

Joe sips his coke, and wishes he'd ordered a beer. He hadn't looked his age since he was 15, after all. And he never took advantage of it.

"Then again. I am driving."

Jim laughs. "See, obviously a man of taste."

Turning to look at Joe.

"So this party you mentioned. Where's it going to be?"