No, it doesn't need to be night where you are for you to post in this topic. The Nightclub simply takes place in, surprise, a nightclub. Alcohol is encouraged, drunken fights are appreciated, and you can tip the waitress a stick of gum if you so wish. Half RP, half weird conversations; welcome to the Nightclub!

That strange mostly-clone of mergirl007 wandered into the club holding a strawberry daiquiri. Her goal: find her twin and engage in ridiculous drunken chatter. She needed more than one drink to navigate her way across the floor to where the original Mer was sitting and watching football.

"I hate football." She plopped onto the beer-stained, once-glitzy couch.

"So why are you watching it?" Fanless said from her perch on a table, knocking back something blue and clear. "Let's put on the SciFi channel or something." She reached for the TV controls, balancing one foot on the table and one on the back of the couch.

"Meh. Okay, but someone better be decapitated soon." Mer settles into her couch, ignoring the lighter poking into her back. "And why am I such a lazy person?" Mer stares into space after asking this mostly rhetorical question.

"Hey, no worries." Fanfan points to the screen. "It's Barry the Chopper's Whackathon. Decapitation is his thing. And you're probably lazy because of your genetic makeup, meaning you have carte blanche to get unhealthy, fat and senile and then blame it on your DNA like everyone else. Not that I recommend it."

"Wha? What about decapitation?" Ivy's head whipped up. She was obviously taking a nap in a drunken stupor. "Ooh...pretty..."

Fanfan nodded, watching the splatters of blood fly. "Almost like Rorschach inkblots, aren't they? Like, that one looks like a duckie. And that one looks like a horsie. And that one-- eeww, naaastyy... that one looks kind of like Pitcairn Island."

"Dude! I saw a cloud!" Mer giggled at the screen. "Did you know that humans heads stay conscious for fifteen to twenty seconds after they're chopped off? I'd totally be winking at a hot guy during my last seconds alive. Probably give him nightmares, too." A huge yawn, one of the ones that feel like they're going to crack your jaw open, seized her, and eventually she leaned back into the couch.

"Put shaving cream on me and I'll force a jackhammer into someplace it doesn't belong." And with that charming tidbit, Mer fell asleep.

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