A coupla days ago, someone tried to blame a missing grenade on a cat playing with it like a ball of yarn. I don't think I'm too far off questioning their sanity, am I?

[The answer is 'no'. He's more or less posting this to be a troll. He thinks by now everyone knows where that missing grenade is... or where it was used if it happened to be used.]

[ she begins without preamble, speaking clearly and surely. ]

I have things to trade in the cafeteria. There's hams and cheeses, doughnuts, and juices. Socks too, and wet wipes, toys and jewelry. I've got books too for those who want them and markers in lots of colors. There's a lot more too. I'll be here all day or until it's all gone.

[ she took over a section of the cafeteria for her use. her direwolf lies beside her, guarding both her and the cart.

her wheeled cart ( commandeered from the clinic ) is full of items: the top has a tray of finger food from the promised cold hams and cheeses to oysters and shrimp packed in ice with sauces alongside, even cooked mini pizzas. below are assorted vending machine goods in their wrappers, sacks of ground coffee and hot chocolate, and a dozen fresh doughnuts. she has a pitcher of lemonade and a half-gallon of fruit punch.

in the drawers are assorted items such as wipes, hand sanitizers, socks and scarves, toys including a stuffed bear that moves and talks when you press its stomach, a few books and papers and markers.

hidden inside a bag at the girl's feet are a few cartons of cigarettes and small bottles of whiskey and wine for those who can pay a little extra. ]