"And now that all of Mr. Sylvester's guests have arrived and you're all suitably acquainted, please direct your attention to the video monitor. Mr. Sylvester has prerecorded some remarks which pertain to the reason you've been invited here this evening," Buskers announced.
"What video monitor?" asked zombie84.
As if in answer, two bookcases slid in opposite directions, revealing a 24" black-and-white Zenith TV set, set inside a console. A test pattern revealed the relative small size of the screen, especially in a room the size of the Libra room. Like everyone else, I moved towards the screen in hopes of a better view.
"That one. That's the video monitor," said Ric Olie.
The test pattern changed to a video feed. Sylvester. A collective gasp filled the room.
"Greetings, OT.com'ers. Most of you know me, all of you are at least aware of who I am. Some of you are teenagers, some of you are in your forties, some are in their thirties, some are in their twenties. Some are fifty or above. Some of you are tall, some of you are short. Some of you can be described as having average height. Some of you..." and it went on, in that same vein, for fifteen minutes. Bingowings actually went to the restroom and came back during that introduction.
"...left it at the moose lodge. But anyway, at this point you're all wondering what this is about. Tonight, I can assure you - there will be blood."
An uneasy silence filled the room.
"MUUURRRRDERRRRRRR!" Sylvester hissed in a loud whisper.
A frantic mutter filled the room. It didn't help that Frink and Olie were standing near each other saying "Murmur" over and over.
"Buskers - it's time."
Oh my God! I didn't even notice Buskers had slipped out of the room. What's going on? Are we all going to die? Did we spam up the board that much?