Resident Evil! Outbrrreak!
Scottacon (aptly named because of his striking resemblance to Dr. Emmerich appearance) sat on the end of the bed swinging his legs and reading a book…of sorts. It was 8:30 in the morning and he should have been asleep. However it seemed the couple next door had different plans – they had been moaning and groaning for hours. Scottacon had had enough.
He banged on the wall and shouted, "get a room!"
"They're in a room," Nellist's girlfriend, Tankini, pointed out from the other side of the room. Realising his mistake Scottacon paused. He considered his next move.
"Shut the fuck up!" Scottacon smirked to himself, "that should do it." At that moment Nellist (known to his friends as Tank) returned from his 'business' in the bathroom.
"God, that took me what, like an hour?" Tank enquired as refastened his belt. Then the highly unnecessary groans started again.
"This shit just got real," Scottacon grumbled as he headed for the door.
"Leave it Scott." Tankini smiled, "let Tank go instead". Scottacon smiled as well.
"Where are those two pricks?" Tank grunted, "I thought we was gonna get pissed at J's Bar?"
"Yeah…" Scottacon considered it. Something wasn't right – those two crackheads would be dying for a few rounds. "I think we'd better go and see…"
Scottacon opened the door just as Big Jake was finishing another of his adverts for his patented 'Downstairs Lipstick™'.
Wondering what the fuck the hurry was about Shroppy asked, "what the fuck is the hurry about?" Tank answered his question with a pop in the ribs. "Good point," Shroppy wheezed.
"Hey Splade, is drinking time?" Jake asked the group. He grabbed his jacket, as it was a cold autumn day in Raccoon City. The others were also dressed warmly, Scottacon in particular with his trademark purple scarf wrapped round the lower part of his face. Tank reached for the doorknob to let Tankini through (mostly so he could look at her ass) but the door began to shake and the group could hear moanings outside.
"What the fuck are they doin?" Jake said to no-one in particular.
To someone in particular (i.e. whoever was outside) Scottacon yelled, "what the fuck are you doin?"
The door continued to shake and the thumping got louder…