s e v e n i s a j o u r n e y

We had planned to go to the Full Moon Drumming at Zebos last night, but got invited instead to Alan’s murder mystery party. Based loosely on the “Collectors” story in issue 14 of Sandman, the setup was several different groups having their conventions in the same hotel (Turnbull house, a lovely historic building across from Parliament). In addition to a Scientific organization (who ended up throwing the whole hotel back in time, and blowing Stephen into a Fine Red Mist with some kind of Thing-In-A-Box), an Environmental group (who were actually militant Human Extinctionists… or something), an Adventurers and Explorers club (LoEG, maybe ?), and the Black Ribbon Temperance League (vampires who, like the sharks in Finding Nemo had decided that humans were “Friends Not Food!”), there was the group Stephen and I were in, the Cereal Convention — i.e., serial killers. Chaos ensues, bodies pile up, etc. The rules were that you couldn’t kill anyone unless you were alone in the room with them — no witnesses. After several “mysterious” isolated deaths, the serial killers sort of circumvented the “no witnesses” rule by deciding to gang up and take out the others in singles and small groups. Not exactly kosher, but the mass slaughter at the top of the stairs was kind of funny, and we all ended up getting eaten by Hounds of Tindalos anyway, so I suppose the Turnbull House Massacre will end up an unsolved mystery in the papers of 1892.