<div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/c7/Burnout-Star.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Star Freyman</strong>(http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=180776.msg8643940#msg8643940)<br/><strong>Car</strong>: 2001 Chevrolet S-10 (http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/23/Star-S10.jpg)<br/><strong>Appearance</strong>: Zombie bikini...Zombiekini! (http://i.imgur.com/TvwJQ6G.jpg)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Room 3 -> Kitchen -> Room 3 -> Corner store -> Patio<br/><strong>Tag</strong>: Mr. Muffles, Marcellus, Clint, Jayson<br/><hr/><br/><br/>It was already afternoon by the time that Star had woken up, still slightly hung over from the night before. The fact that it was only slightly implied that she'd shown a good deal more restraint than usual, the reasons for that being that she didn't want to miss out on the barbecue and also that she didn't want to feel like crap the day of the race. After washing up and slipping on her eye-catching zombie themed bikini, she was ready to go join the others, whom she could already hear gathering around the grill on the back porch (though she had to hear them through that infernal music that Clint listened to), but before she could reach her friends, Star made a horrific discovery in the kitchen.<br/><br/>They were all out of any kind of chips. She couldn't believe her bad luck. Why did they have to run out right when she woke up with the most intense chip craving? And how the hell has nobody else noticed yet? A barbecue just wasn't right if you didn't have anything to stack on while waiting for the main course. Star kind of felt like they were all crazy except for her. She nearly slammed the pantry door shut out of frustration but quickly bounced back from her disappointment, taking it upon herself to save the day.<br/><br/>Backtracking to the room that she shared with Jules, Star narrowly avoided tripping over Mr. Muffles when he appeared out of nowhere with no regard for anybody else, kind of like any Asian lady driving a Corolla. "Jesus fuck!" she swore as she slammed her forearm into the nearest wall to keep from falling. Muffles had scurried a few feet away before turning his head to look up at her with big, curious eyes, probably wondering why there was a giant trying to trample him.<br/><br/>Star shot him a disapproving glance and hissed at him menacingly, doing her best impression of an angry cat, but Muffles seemed rather unimpressed, perhaps just a little confused at the very most. Impressed by the little man's stoicism, she decided to forgive his transgression (like she always did) and walked the rest of the way to her room. She dug out a short denim skirt from a pile of assorted clothing at the foot of her and Jules' double bed and slipped it on before lacing up her sneakers. They were black, pink and yellow with a little white, so they sort of matched the top of her bathing suit which she didn't bother covering with anything, but that was more by coincidence than design.<br/><br/>About fifteen minutes later, Star was already back from the nearest little corner store, pulling up next to Jason's STI in the yard. Her truck kept running for a few seconds while the turbo timer counted down, but she was already approaching the patio table with four big bags of chips in her arms. There was ketchup, ranch, smoked bbq and plain tortilla chips for dipping. They had salsa left in the house so she didn't need to get any. "Yo," Star greeted nobody in particular as she dropped the bags on to the table. The ketchup one had already been opened - she'd been munching on the way home, which explained why the fingertips on her right hand were covered in red ketchup powder.<br/><br/>She quickly sucked on them one by one to clean them off, then undid the button on her skirt and pulled it down, throwing it on the seat of one of the two chairs that were at an end of the table, claiming it for later. By the time that she'd finished doing that, Star had already been listening to Clint's boring ass music for over a minute, which was apparently her threshold on this particular day.<br/><br/>"The fuck?" Star asked Marcellus - whom she happened to be standing near - giving him a light tap on the bicep with the back of her hand, but she was speaking loud enough for everybody to hear. "You guys just let him get away with this shit if I'm not around?" she continued, referring to Clint, naturally. "Fuck this, we're not in like...Alabama or something!" She sauntered back towards her truck to grab her own iPod from the cup holder, wondering if they actually listened to country music in Alabama. Star didn't really know jack about Alabama, but it sounded country-ish, so she hoped that she hadn't just said something retarded that Clint would be able to make fun of her for. In hindsight, it would have been safer to just say Texas, since she knew that was where he was from.<br/><br/>Returning with her iPod, which sat in its blinged out pink rhinestone protective case, Star wasted no time in unplugging the one that Clint had borrowed from the ghetto sound system that they'd rigged up on the patio and substituting it with her own. She put on something that didn't make her want to blow her brains out (http://youtu.be/VzXtHJcC5I0) and then tried to sneak up on Jason and casually snatch the fresh beer bottle out of his hand rather than going through the trouble of finding her own.