Dorian clapped his cheeks, psyching himself up, and ripped off the entrance ribbon to the section of the Courtyard they were conducting their festivities. It was a lovely section, dividing itself from the other booths with lovely sunflowers. There were streamers, balloons and fairy lights decorating the borders, and the entrance, a walkway with a banner that said STARLIGHT POLITICAL ALLIANCE. Taped to one of the poles, a laminated sign that explained the Club's purpose and enumerated their members.
The inside of the area was just as colorful. Next to the poles to the side was a table labeled "INFORMATION" with someone ready to provide information about the Alliance and the Festival at large. They also had a sign-up sheet, for prospective new members.
Inside the area are various booths showcasing all kinds of different things. On one side was an extravagant bake sale, with cookies, cake, cupcakes, and all sorts of sweet and savory baked cookies labeled with prices. There was a chocolate fountain at the end of the table, just for free, for anyone who wanted extra fudge for their triple fudge.
At the other side was a table full of lovely artwork from the Art Club. When normally the art world would be charging a million for a Baltimore original, they sold them for $80. Next to the artwork were glass closets with clothes hanging, all MUSE clothing originals. These were the out of season, older clothes that the company would've thrown out otherwise, sold for $5 - $20. As far as contributions went, Dorian thought selling couture for cheap would be an appealing enough attraction. He never really liked throwing out clothes anyway.
The club also held a raffle! For $5, one could enter one raffle ticket. Third got a $100 gift card for MUSE and its subsidiaries, second got a dinner for two at a classy seaside establishment. Finally, the grand prize was the biggest attraction: A shiny red Ford convertible, sitting pretty at the middle of their booths. Right next to it was a sign explaining that 90% of the club's proceeds were going to be donated to Charity, one half to Supernatural Disease Research, the other to local orphanages. Alien STDs were a growing epidemic, and so was teen pregnancy.
Dorian was dressed very handsomely that day, wearing a rolled up button up, a vest, and a bowtie. He was more than ready welcome anyone that came in, advertise their club and their merchandise, and explain the club's cause. Dorian was not a sentimental man. But he was a business man, and he knew when to make a good sale.
The inside of the area was just as colorful. Next to the poles to the side was a table labeled "INFORMATION" with someone ready to provide information about the Alliance and the Festival at large. They also had a sign-up sheet, for prospective new members.
Inside the area are various booths showcasing all kinds of different things. On one side was an extravagant bake sale, with cookies, cake, cupcakes, and all sorts of sweet and savory baked cookies labeled with prices. There was a chocolate fountain at the end of the table, just for free, for anyone who wanted extra fudge for their triple fudge.
At the other side was a table full of lovely artwork from the Art Club. When normally the art world would be charging a million for a Baltimore original, they sold them for $80. Next to the artwork were glass closets with clothes hanging, all MUSE clothing originals. These were the out of season, older clothes that the company would've thrown out otherwise, sold for $5 - $20. As far as contributions went, Dorian thought selling couture for cheap would be an appealing enough attraction. He never really liked throwing out clothes anyway.
The club also held a raffle! For $5, one could enter one raffle ticket. Third got a $100 gift card for MUSE and its subsidiaries, second got a dinner for two at a classy seaside establishment. Finally, the grand prize was the biggest attraction: A shiny red Ford convertible, sitting pretty at the middle of their booths. Right next to it was a sign explaining that 90% of the club's proceeds were going to be donated to Charity, one half to Supernatural Disease Research, the other to local orphanages. Alien STDs were a growing epidemic, and so was teen pregnancy.
Dorian was dressed very handsomely that day, wearing a rolled up button up, a vest, and a bowtie. He was more than ready welcome anyone that came in, advertise their club and their merchandise, and explain the club's cause. Dorian was not a sentimental man. But he was a business man, and he knew when to make a good sale.
Shay was buzzing she was so excited. There was something about helping the community, about doing business, that really had her hyped. She had more energy to talk to people than she ever had before. For once, Shay felt important and big. In control. She had never considered club activities of volunteer work until this point.
