Sex chat prank

16-Sep-2019 04:13

Before he even knew it, he was reading the nametag on her door. It took only a little longer to funnel the contents of the packets into the gap, and considerably less to open the matchbook and slide it in as well before sealing the gap completely with more tape. He winced as the dried bits twisted painfully before crumbling lose.

Or rather, he was reading her name amongst a list of other assistants who shared this office. I'm already senior staff, and I have no interest in Bright's games. Once their work was done, the big man rose and nodded to his companions, then paused to doodle a small cartoon on the door before heading back down the hallway they'd come in by and leave the facility. Reject had just enough time to curse before the door burst and he was swamped by a massive wave of lime jello. Site 19 was a maze on the best of days, and on Senior Staff Shenanigans day it was a minefield.

He went to his office and placed an empty coffee mug alongside a mostly unread folder of paperwork.

The usual threats — paperwork, budget cuts, audits — never seemed to work. His friend agreed, and in an hour, Reject knew that he would have the chance to become a Senior Staff member.

Several rooms away, research assistant Renfield took her fingers out of her ears and looked happily down at the monkey statue now gracing her new desk. It was amazing, he thought, what the presence of that man could do. Fortunately, the prank war was a regular yearly event, so he'd had plenty of time to prepare.

Dmitri studied his reflection for a moment, adjusted the angle of his hat, then exited his quarters. In fact, as a sign of my goodwill, I'll escort you back to your office." Los E. A researcher leaped out from around the corner holding a giant creme pie, which he rapidly put down and walked away from. "Ah, here it tis." He stopped in front of a particular office, grinning as he began pulling the necessary materials from his satchel.

"And get out of the damn way." Dmitri jabbed a finger at Bright. I HAVE DONE THIS PRANK SEVERAL TIMES BEFORE, IN BOTH WARS." "It's not a prank, Dmitri." "YES IT IS! Agent Lament whistled quietly to himself, glancing down at his watch, nodding amiably to the nurse as she walked into Renfield's room carrying an IV bag of saline. I'd probably end up in the hospital, I've never been really good at elaborate pranks." Eisenberg seemed to relax slightly at Los E. "No, it wasn't nets, exactly…I had them tattoo Lenin on him." Los E. burst out laughing, leaning on the desk for support. How does someone come up with something like that?! Talking to a bunch of spiders though…that was kinda creepy. You've got a cobweb on your coat, here let me…" Los E. "Never was any good with those elaborate pranks." "Hey, Los." Los E. If memory served, it was at the end of the hall on his right, next door to where they put Research Assistant Reject after he somehow managed to shrink his office to a third of its original size. How poetic, so close to freedom with artifacts of power. " Taking the slim glimmer of hope for what ever it was worth, the trio hurried desperately down the hall. This was not the first time the 447 alert had been sounded on Senior Staff Shenanigans Day. Pushing the door open, a bucket of water immediately fell from atop the door.

Let's go." Clef led the junior staff member to the other side of the floor, and to his office. "DON'T LOSE." Reject smiled, and walked briskly down towards the accounting offices. Staring at a sentient calculator was a new experience for him.

I currently hold it, so y'all can start by pranking me… He ran his finger along the cabinet until he reached "2004 Operating Budget Reports Jan-Mar." He started typing on the calculator. Chuckling to himself, he slipped the matchbook the poor guard had died failing to protect into an outer pocket of his enormous satchel next to a tarnished canteen, and waddled out of the ruined containment unit and down the hallway toward the personnel wing.

May god have mercy on all our souls." …And then the bomb under his chair detonated, covering the cafeteria with lime green paint, and incidentally blowing his legs off in the process. Flanked by a pair of traitor guards, their sleeves rolled up to reveal liberty cuffs emblazoned with blaring abstract designs, the huge man reflected on the work and planning that had gone into this effort. Infiltrating the Foundation's security forces alone had taken months.

Reject's friend handed him a bag with two words written on it.

One hour later, Reject met his friend in the cafeteria.

Let's go." Clef led the junior staff member to the other side of the floor, and to his office. "DON'T LOSE." Reject smiled, and walked briskly down towards the accounting offices. Staring at a sentient calculator was a new experience for him.

I currently hold it, so y'all can start by pranking me… He ran his finger along the cabinet until he reached "2004 Operating Budget Reports Jan-Mar." He started typing on the calculator. Chuckling to himself, he slipped the matchbook the poor guard had died failing to protect into an outer pocket of his enormous satchel next to a tarnished canteen, and waddled out of the ruined containment unit and down the hallway toward the personnel wing.

May god have mercy on all our souls." …And then the bomb under his chair detonated, covering the cafeteria with lime green paint, and incidentally blowing his legs off in the process. Flanked by a pair of traitor guards, their sleeves rolled up to reveal liberty cuffs emblazoned with blaring abstract designs, the huge man reflected on the work and planning that had gone into this effort. Infiltrating the Foundation's security forces alone had taken months.

Reject's friend handed him a bag with two words written on it.

One hour later, Reject met his friend in the cafeteria.

Kap - a name adopted because he was sick of people mispronouncing his full name - was sitting and typing away deep in the bowels of the Site. gave a quick knock and pushed the door open without waiting for a reply. One hour, three minutes and twenty-one seconds ago, he idly browsed through the frantically compiled digital record of SCP-050 possession. In his right hand was a remote, with a single green button, and he mashed it in double time to his steps towards the central communications office. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed that upon seeing it, Vasili let out a sigh before introducing an ample amount of corrections. bloody hell, and I thought my surname was unwieldy." Researcher Eisenberg sighed and took out a pencil. Shaking with expectation, he ran to the nearest internet-enabled terminal.