Enter Toby [open]
Aug 20, 2009 18:11:57 GMT -5
Post by Basil on Aug 20, 2009 18:11:57 GMT -5
Basil entered the lobby of the Boardwalk Hotel gaping like a tourist. How did those doors open of their own accord when he approached? And close again after he passed by?
This would require some careful study. The hotel employees waited impatiently as the mouse detective passed and repassed through the automatic doors. He finally gave it up as something to put off for another time, picked up his bags, and approached the concierge desk.
How fortunate for Basil that he had been just returning to London from a brief outing in the country when he was whisked away (he still did not know quite how) to this place, baggage and all. At least he had some of life's necessities and a few changes of clothes with him, along with his violin.
<<Okay, so this is a little lame. I couldn't think of any other way to get Basil his violin and some other things I want him to have.>>
Once he found that brochure listing all the nearby hotels, Basil determined to first secure living quarters before resuming his investigation into the details of this strange place.
His first choice was the Grand Floridian Hotel, for it most reminded him of something familiar, namely, a typical seaside hotel such as one sees at Bristol or Dover. Alas, it was monstrously expensive, and without resource to bank account or personal funds, Basil deemed the lesser Boardwalk Hotel as the wiser choice.
How splendid that they had rodent-sized accommodations, and that they would accept his practically microscopic currency.
Basil engaged himself a room (number 221 1/2 -- he took that for a good omen), gathered up his portmanteau and Gladstone bag, along with his violin case, and paused when he felt a familiar rumble in the ground.
The mouse tried to turn round, but he was swiftly bowled over by a familiar brown-and-white blur. The name of that particular blur was,
"Toby! You are here as well," shouted Basil, laid flat on his back by two enormous paws on his chest. Between passes of that wet canine tongue, the detective managed to express his gratitude at seeing a familiar, if hairy face.
"Down, boy, down. I am pleased to see you, too." Basil extricated himself with the utmost pleasure. He missed his canine companion, besides the fact of the dog's usefulness in various endeavours.
He patted the hound affectionately, then continued off, dog in tow, to find his rooms.
This would require some careful study. The hotel employees waited impatiently as the mouse detective passed and repassed through the automatic doors. He finally gave it up as something to put off for another time, picked up his bags, and approached the concierge desk.
How fortunate for Basil that he had been just returning to London from a brief outing in the country when he was whisked away (he still did not know quite how) to this place, baggage and all. At least he had some of life's necessities and a few changes of clothes with him, along with his violin.
<<Okay, so this is a little lame. I couldn't think of any other way to get Basil his violin and some other things I want him to have.>>
Once he found that brochure listing all the nearby hotels, Basil determined to first secure living quarters before resuming his investigation into the details of this strange place.
His first choice was the Grand Floridian Hotel, for it most reminded him of something familiar, namely, a typical seaside hotel such as one sees at Bristol or Dover. Alas, it was monstrously expensive, and without resource to bank account or personal funds, Basil deemed the lesser Boardwalk Hotel as the wiser choice.
How splendid that they had rodent-sized accommodations, and that they would accept his practically microscopic currency.
Basil engaged himself a room (number 221 1/2 -- he took that for a good omen), gathered up his portmanteau and Gladstone bag, along with his violin case, and paused when he felt a familiar rumble in the ground.
The mouse tried to turn round, but he was swiftly bowled over by a familiar brown-and-white blur. The name of that particular blur was,
"Toby! You are here as well," shouted Basil, laid flat on his back by two enormous paws on his chest. Between passes of that wet canine tongue, the detective managed to express his gratitude at seeing a familiar, if hairy face.
"Down, boy, down. I am pleased to see you, too." Basil extricated himself with the utmost pleasure. He missed his canine companion, besides the fact of the dog's usefulness in various endeavours.
He patted the hound affectionately, then continued off, dog in tow, to find his rooms.