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BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House'
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Peter T. Date: 17 Jul 01 - 09:58 AM The bar doors swing open, then swing back, then do that pendulum deterioration back to a standstill, as whoever is outside reconsiders his entrance. Then he tries again, the doors swing open, and he enters, drawn perhaps by the overworked Mysterious Silvertone, but more probably by the possibilities enshrined in the pulchritudinous forms of damsels like damson that he has already noted from the outside. He walks like someone on bowlegged rollerblades up to the bar, and immediately unbuckles his gunbelt. "Here, bartender, hang on to these. I am trouble when I have had a few." The bartender looks at the calendar, it is 2001, but it is a bar, so he takes the gunbelt and puts it with the harpoon, the beanie, and the tightly wrapped copies of the National Review's special issue with the full-colour foldout of the missile defence shield ("When this baby drops her shield, look out world!"). The handsome dark stranger, who has excellent peripheral vision, spots a certain lady eviscerating a vole, and another lady taking pointers beside her, and a somewhat volelike figure (possibly male?) sitting beside her, as if he were in the waiting room for his turn, and says to the Bartender: "What are those ladies having?" The Bartender explains, and the stranger says,"I'll see his Beaujolais and raise it to a St. Emilion 45!" The Bartender puts on his impressed bartender look, and heads for the cellar. The handsome stranger strolls in his odd fashion over to the bevylet of ladies, and the dusty lad, and stands over them, glinting: "Morning, ladies, names Mix, Trail Mix. I'm sniffing the clean air hereabouts, come with the wind, go with the lay of the land, here today, gone tomorrow, don't think twice, it's a lesson too late for the learning. Might I join you?" The lady upending the vole says grimly: "No room, we are all taken here.", Trail Mix looks down at the spot currently occupied by what he regards as less than a spot wearing a RASKOLNIKOV BREWERIES T-Shirt. "Oh," he says, smiling, "I didn't see that there was anyone here." The Bartender arrives with a tray, three glasses, and an uncorked bottle. "Ladies," says Trail Mix, "Let us drink to the end of the war between the sexes, to a truce, to an Appomattox Courthouse where both parties down tools and embrace domestic bliss." The lady with her arms deep in vole says: "If you down tools you can't be much use in domestic bliss, Mr. Mix." Mr. Mix brushes the RaskRep aside in his need for a seat, since he is temporarily baffled. He sits down. The expropriated RaskRep stands there for a moment, and then wanders away to look up "testosterone" in the Mudcat Tavern dictionary. Mr. Mix, who has his eye on the voleing damsel, nevertheless turns to the lady on his left, yclept Condolezza Schwartz, who has long blonde hair and resembles in a degraded way her own semi-famous album of heartrending songs, entitled "Songs In The Key Of Self", and says in his patented womanizing voice: "Aren't you familiar?" Condolezza gives him her patented late 60's cool womanizable look, which worked well in the late 60's, but has fallen on hard times in the intervening 41 years. "Do you happen to have ever heard 'Songs in the Key of Self'?" Trail Mix tends to file away his music according to who he was sleeping with at the time the music was around, so it takes him awhile to match up 'SITKOS" with Daphne with the teeth and the orange lavalamp, but then he makes the connection. "Oh yeah, wasn't that the one with "You Were The First Thing on My Mind the Last Thing Last Night?" on it?" Condolezza smiles, brushes her hair like sunlight on a gull's wing, and says: "Why, yes." "Why you are famous, almost an icon" -- he is still struggling with her name, which is not a surprise since he can hardly remember the name of women without albums to their name -- and she helps him: "Condolezza Schwartz" "My God, Condolezza Schwartz" -- this is the first time he has heard the name, but what the hell. "It is an honour sitting here with you." There is a moment of silence. And then he says: "What's your friend's name?"
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 17 Jul 01 - 01:38 PM Oh, I haven't asked...." repiled Condolezza, fluttering to the length of her false eyelashes. The woman, in the depths of prior involevement, squirms soundlessly in her chair. Evoleution is tricky business. It hasn't been easy, given the copious amount of glassware on the table before her, which she shifts from time to time to make room for the vole, but the relative peace of the tavern is the safest place for revisceration to occur. She looks up, lays her glasses alongside the glasses on the table, and sighs as she rubs her eyes. The RaskRep appears to have taken up residence in a barstool beside the Silvertonedevvil? Great, she's left alone with the growing collection of fruits and nuts. No matter, back to work. Quickly glancing to check the room, she ducks beneath the table and rummages in her bag. There! She rises again, clutching the prototype of the 'Sad-O-Metric Revolever' to her chest. The master of the blueprints, her favourite cigar store indian, built the contraption at her insistance after a particularly awkward evening of 'I hear it happens to all men at sometime or another'. The Revolever, formerly a cigarette lighter in the shape of a derringer, glinted menacingly in her palm. She crouched low to the quiet form of the vole and pulled the trigger. Tinny chords of I'm Only Sleeping spun from the barrel and enveloped the tiny creature, which first trembled, then coughed, then opened his eyes and looked up at her. "Hello little friend," she whispered. "Welcome back." She reached into her shirtpocket and retrieved a discarded washboard thimble. "Beaujolais? Or perhaps a St. Emilion? A good choice," she pours "buena suerte." |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 17 Jul 01 - 01:40 PM The Friend strolls quietly doorwards, his eyes on the stars, holding his Silvertone round end high, as the ambience in the peaceful Tavern begins to flicker vellities of extremely high frequency. He whistles a little three-note whistle, and the twin gerbils leap down from the bar, where they have been both gamboling and cavorting amidst the coasters, and scramble up into his pocket. The evening breezes rustle the Silvertone's strings making faint resonant harmonics in the air. He sets a spell on the Indian, noticing the cleanly drawn white stripes around recently paved parking lot, and hums a Civil War tune about a man who will not be reconstructed and doesn't really care very much.... |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Peter T. Date: 17 Jul 01 - 02:12 PM Mr. Mix watched the involution of the critter with some amazement, as the way it drank out of the thimble in short sips reminded him of his late sainted mother who had done the same, and eventually committed suicide using a Singer sewing machine in a way that for a time occupied substantial column space in the New Jersey Journal of Medicine, but he nevertheless persisted. "Well, Condolezza, perhaps I can introduce sorority into this pleasant bar. Excuse me, ma'am, but I couldn't help noticing --" "You could have if you had worked at it. What?" "I couldn't help noticing how dextrous you were with your surgical instrument, almost perhaps as dextrous as Condolezza Schwartz here, the famous singer, is with her music." Condolezza smiled broadly. The Vole Lady said: "It's a Swiss Army knockoff. Does many wonderful things. You see this? A miniature missile defence shield. At least as good as the full size model. This? a Revolever. Doubles as a cattle prod. And speaking of the range of male problems", a somewhat formidable blade perked up out of the mass of red metal. "Perfectly good for castration and circumcision in a pinch." Mr. Mix sat back to absorb this, and check, using his admirable peripheral vision, the exits. Condolezza for her part leaned forward slightly, which for thirty years meant that she couldn't see with the hair in her eyes, and which for thirty years had enabled her to brush her hair back and look at her male admirers with that "voila" approach that had at least a 60:40 success record, 1995-2001 inclusive. Within seconds it was down to 59:41. Trail Mix gave her a glance, and then headed back down the chute. He had encountered high spirited women before, and was not averse to a little friskiness in moderation. He thought about it for a moment, and then reached into his surprisingly adept bag of rhetorical tricks -- "I always felt that doctors must have kind hands to do the work they do." Meanwhile, over at the dictionary stand by the bar, RaskRep had found TEST and, having wasted time in TESTER, realized that he had to backtrack forward to TESTO, and was flipping pages in earnest....
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: SINSULL Date: 17 Jul 01 - 02:45 PM PSSST. Spaw! Over here! A nice cold Turkey Turd for you if you promise not to tell anyone. They really meant it when they posted to that thread of healthy recipes for you. Of course it's in a milk carton! I rinsed it twice. Want a kitten? Have another Turkey Turd...want a kitten?... |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 17 Jul 01 - 03:11 PM The table, supporting, once again, the elbows of all three sexes amidst the bottles and glasses, wobbled slightly as the woman leaned forward in a sketchy impersonation of the Condolezza beside her. She flipped her hair too, but the eyes below were bright and read the stranger as quickly, directly and as indifferently as one scans the horoscopes in the paper. Something to do in between the comics. "You heard the nice lady. Want a kitten? As for the regurgitaion of rhetoric, we could go on all night.....hands, hands, hands....The place to improve the world is first in one's own heart and head and hands...You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist...Ignorant men don't know what good they hold in their hands until they've flung it away.... The ultimate test of a relationship is to disagree but hold hands...Shall I continue?" she asked The flame flickered in her eyes for a moment longer before she grinned at him and looked away and refilled the vole's thimble. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Peter T. Date: 17 Jul 01 - 06:00 PM If Trail had been asked at that moment to describe the state of his mind, he would have said, that it was like that scene in the first Lone Ranger episode where all the Rangers are boxed into the canyon by the whatever gang, and killed, except for the one who escapes, except that this time he doesn't escape, and is gunned down like the rest. Then he had a bright idea! "If you would continue, ma'am, I would be honored." Condolezza patted him on the arm. "Did you ever hear my second album -- "Woman on the Barricades of Love"? I had a song on there just like whatever it was she said. It was called, 'Hands Are The Fingers of the Soul'". Makes you think." Trail looked at her and said, in a muted, but kind way: "What did you say?" Condolezza said: "Did you ever hear --" and then gave up, and took a swig of her St. Emilion.
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 17 Jul 01 - 06:04 PM The faint ring of a minstrel strum seeped through the entry, perfumed by magnolia.... a scratchy baritone summing up a century... D D G D D G D Em G Em F#m Em F#m D Em G |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 17 Jul 01 - 10:19 PM Lightly humming the tune that floated in through the tavern window, she took the thimble away from the inebriated Arvicoline, and put it back into her pocket. She softly whispered, "You've had enough, my friend. That 45 will set you on your lips, and that's no condition to be in with cats about..." before she returned to the vituperations at hand. "Did you say something?" she asked, and ignoring her own advice to the vole, poured herself a large measure of the St.Emilion. "I said that if you would continue, ma'am, I would be honored." "Things won are done," she said as she put her chin in her hand and gave the stranger a glare that was infinitely colder than Shukov's trip to the infirmary, "joy's soul lies in the doing, and as your Condolezza so melodically intoned, the hands are the fingers of the soul. So in effect, your life's joy must rely on what your fingers are doing...Correct? Well then, Mr. Mix, what is it, exactly, that your fingers are doing? Just like she said," nodding towards Condolezza and then taking a long drink from her glass, "it makes you think." |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Chip2447 Date: 17 Jul 01 - 11:43 PM He tried to slip in unnoticed. He was new around here, and somewhat in awe of the knowledge and experience he had found in Mudcatville. He approached the barkeep, and in a low voice offered to buy a round for the house, all the while whistfully eyeing those perfect pints of the dark frothy stout with the golden heads topping them. He chose a table where he could watch and listen to the things that were going on in this grand and wonderous place without placing himself in the way. Yep, he thought to himself, this is a really cool place, glad I found it... |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Bert Date: 17 Jul 01 - 11:53 PM Ah! this beerstein is great MMario. Here's a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape that works the same way. Now if someone could find a way to do the same thing with wallets we'll have it made. Beer, beer bottomless beer!!! Now the only problem is, that when Bert gets hold of a bottomless beerstein he is liable to wax eloquently on old stories that you've all heard before. Now's when the kids start groaning Peter talking about Firestone Tires reminds me of that time in Iran, when the tires on our trucks kept blowing out. They were Firestone tires as it happened, but this was before any recent problems. I was just about ready to write to Firestone and complain when I went into the workshop and caught them inflating a tire from the oxygen bottle. I bet they thought that they were really ingenious. After I put a stop to that, we never had another blowout. Now wherrsh I put thhat beeershty again? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 17 Jul 01 - 11:56 PM While the stranger sat by Condolezza, the woman signaled the bartender. "A perfect pint of welcome for the new fella. If he's glad he found the place, we're glad to have him." |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 18 Jul 01 - 12:05 AM The Friend looks around the doorjamb, checking the ambient arc level and finds it somewhat stable. "Sir LEJ, an' you will, a giant pint of frothy black vile and bitter for the bright youth newly wandered in! An' it please him. p'rapsd he has a song to offer our be-fumed but ready ears?" A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Lonesome EJ Date: 18 Jul 01 - 12:20 AM What say you, stranger? Shall you quaff deeply of the communal cup, so freely offered? Methinks that cold ale shared among companions comes near to song in engendering kindness. Woulds't thou be kind enough to share the wine, and sharing thus, be of a kind? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Peter T. Date: 18 Jul 01 - 09:23 AM As was becoming disconcertingly the norm, Trail had to stop and think, and since he was somewhat unused to the brake pedal where ladies were concerned, he stalled. "Well, ma'am, to begin with, this lady whose acquaintance I have only just acquired, is certainly not "my Condolezza" -- indeed, I doubt if anyone could possess such a free spirit, wouldn't you agree?" He turned to Condolezza, who had felt a song coming on, and instead of taking her pills as the doctor recommended, had picked up her guitar instead. "You are right there, cowboy!" she said unconvincingly, even to herself. "And here is a song off my third album, the one that never got distributed, about that very subject, sort of." -- and she began fiercely strumming: "You were right when you left, I was left when you left, But you left me alright, alright, alright, alright, It's alright!!!!!!!! You said you had roads to travel, That's what roads are for, You said you were leaving town, And that sunset's just a sunrise Upside down. Upside down, upside down, a sunset's just a sunrise, Upside down!!!! I didn't understand that then, And I don't understand it now, But I still keep your boots on my pillow Though it irks my pajama dog. Pajama dog, pajama dog, pajama dog -- There's a zipper in my heart, just like my pajama dog." Pajama dog, pajama dog, there's a zipper in my heart, just like my pajama dog!!!!!" Condolezza stopped. "It isn't quite finished." There was a moment of silence in the bar. Trail said: "It certainly has a kind of something about it, hard to say what." He turned back to Ms. Vole. "What you were saying about hands is very important. For example," he held out his hand. "My mother, bless her chain stitched heart, taught me to read palms. If you look here, where this line meanders like a loping horse around the mound of Venus, you can see how it frays and disappears into the surrounding flesh. It means that I am unlucky in love, but still out there in the desert of life searching." Ms. Vole looked at him steadily and said. "I don't want to break your heart, but the Comanches already got your girl." "Oh," said Trail smoothly, and smiling his winningest smile: "I doubt that. I seriously doubt that."
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Geoff the Duck Date: 18 Jul 01 - 09:56 AM Amos, the banjo song was beautiful. Please allow me to buy you a large glass of the Tavern's finest! - Your choice! Geoff the Duck! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 18 Jul 01 - 10:49 AM Geoff: I agree it is beautiful -- it was an old "darky" song written agaes ago by someone whose name I have forgot. It can still be found on the sheet music sites somewhere. I accept your kind offer! Make it a Guinness Light!! And one for the poor vole!!I believe we have just seen a historical first -- a vole vasectomy completed using only a Swiss Army knife and Beaujolais for an anaesthetic. A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Jim Cheydi Date: 18 Jul 01 - 10:59 AM Oi!!!!!!!! Two pints of lager and a packet of crisps!!! I've been here for days and I'm getting impatient. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 18 Jul 01 - 11:03 AM [Peter T I have never seen such a brilliant job of intentionally writing a bad piece!!! BEautifulk!!] |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: MMario Date: 18 Jul 01 - 11:07 AM Jim - I sent you a round....(but check out the first post...it's "do unto others night" Did you want the Caviar flavored crisps or the Tuna and Dill pickle crisps? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 18 Jul 01 - 11:26 AM This was getting revolting, even to the recently revoleted vole. He sat back on his haunches and watched the proceedings for a moment longer before noticing that the tawny glitter go-go hamster appeared to be on break. He scurried off the table, across the floor, and over to the mini-bar. At the table, the woman gave an exaggerated sigh. "What's next, Mr. Mix? Are you going to read your own tea leaves? Perhaps you have a crystal ball stashed under your hat? Or maybe some tarot cards? I'm only assuming that you haven't read Johan Hartlieb's 'Die Kunst Ciromantia'? It's painfully obvious. Also, I must tell you, if you are going to continue that line of bullshit, you should at least get it right, and for god's sake don't drag your poor mother's reputation down with your own... Give me your hand....no! the one you write with. There." She cradled his hand in the pair of hers and began to trace. "Your heart line begins under the mound of Mercury, and ends under the mound of Jupiter, not Venus. That's a common mistake to bullshitters like yourself. No, now don't get upset, just relax. See how your little finger falls away from the rest of your hand just a bit? That's the finger of Mercury and Saint Joaquin. Very interesting..." she trails off in her patented MadameRuby voice for effect before continuing , "And what about his Venus then? What of his vitality and appreciation of the beauties of the world?" She gazed at his hand a moment before she slid her finger across his palm and gave Mix a knowing wink and whispering 'ooh la-la!'. "What you were mistakenly referring to as your 'love line' is in fact your life line. That is the one, here, that runs across the palm by the mound of Venus. That bit where it feathers at the end, Mr. Mix? You know what that means don't you?" She dropped his hand to the table with a thud, "If you keep on this tack, Mr. Mix, you are going to end up in pieces." |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Lonesome EJ Date: 18 Jul 01 - 12:38 PM The door sidled open, and an aging hippie of medium height and weight ambled in, grinning. He had a silver-gray goatee, and long silver-gray hair tied back in a pony tail. He stood still for only a second, his blue eyes reconnoitering the interior of the Mudcat Tavern, then nodded his head, saying in an almost whisper) "farrrr-out." Several heads turned as the stranger moved to the bar and hoisted himself on to a stool. "Isn't that..?" "Sure looks like him!" And he grinned at the bartender who said "well. At last a Real Folksinger." The long-haired fellow said "well, I reckon I am. At least my Daddy was a sure-fire one, so maybe I'm a Son of a Real Folksinger." "Do me a favor?" said the barkeep. "Just say 'The New York Through-way's closed, man!'" The Son of a Real Folksinger kept grinning but his eyes and voice didn't when he said "just bring me a vodka and 7UP", which the bartender did, saying "it's on the house." "That's damn nice of ya" said SRF. "No problem," said the Bartender," it's all on the house today." "Good policy. How do you come up with such a clever promotional concept?" said SRF. "Easy. I just ask myself 'what would Woody do?'" "Far out." |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 18 Jul 01 - 01:09 PM I got a blackjack heart Now what you wanna bet I'm over twenty-one And your match you've met I got a blackjack heart I will cut you cold You got to tell me what you want Do you hit or do you hold Deal it from the top Baby, baby don't stop I got a real raw deal And it made me mean I've got a blackjack heart It's a shuffling machine Oh try to understand When you're dealing with a man You know a blackjack woman Plays a cool, slow hand
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Peter T. Date: 18 Jul 01 - 02:02 PM "Well," said Trail, who suddenly remembered that when you are in quicksand, flailing about is not the right thing to do; rather the answer is to fling yourself flat out on the mud, "I am at least relieved you didn't find the sign of the Pentagram on my palm." Ms. Vole replied: "I remind you of Maria Ouspenkaya, do I?" For a moment, Trail tried to recall if you turned the handle to the side or the front in handreading, and then realized that he was confusing it with tealeaves, and gave up. He decided that, while things did not look all that promising, it was not exactly Ed McMahon coming through the mailslot either; so he resolved to try his #7B, which had been barred from use in truck stop restaurants across America by the GCWOA (Gum Chewing Waitresses of America). It required a little segue. "No, no, gypsy lady, I was assuming that you had little experience with werewolves like me." She looked at him in complete disgust. She reached down into her bag, and pulled out a box of silver bullets, two thirds empty. She set it on the table, and rattled it, and him. He decided to move into #7B a little faster -- "The truth is -- I sure do hate to keep having to not refer to you by name, Ms.?" (No response. He plunged on.) "Well, I'll tell you, while you were looking deep into my palm, and running your fingers through my soul" -- He turned to Condolezza who was really bored with this conversation, and smiled, and he wasn't getting any response there either, and wondered if he were in a metaphysical sense selling carpets over the phone at dinnertime, but anyway, he turned back -- "I found myself" (and he began to find himself) "I found myself looking into your eyes, and I saw some tiny flecks of gold in them, and they reminded me that searching for love is a lot like panning for gold. There you are, out in the rushing stream of life, gravel and grit everywhere, and the heat burning down, and everyone telling you there is nothing there, it is a bust, and then one day when you are soaked through to the skin, and down to your last tray, you see the tiniest glimmer, and maybe it is a mirage, a sunspray from your tired eyes, but no, and then there you are in the middle of nowhere, and what can you do but slowly walk upstream? The stream forks, it passes over hill and dale, and tumbling rock, and yet you slowly move against the current. Days when nothing pans out, and then a bit more of a glimmer, and a bit more, and it is not only upstream, but uphill all the way towards the mother lode. And around you are bushwackers and claimjumpers and geologists and flies, and yet you keep moving up. And, one day, you come to where the stream breaks out of the rock, and you go a little crazy, and the rain comes down and, you go into a wild dance up there on the mountain, and, and ---" and he ran out of metaphor. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 18 Jul 01 - 03:52 PM She leaned back in her chair a bit, and softly began to laugh. "Panning for gold takes a lot of patience, Mr. Mix. All fun and games for the yuppies on a weekend trip to the sluice, but they never seem to find much of any importance. Why do you think that is?" Mix shook his head a moment, and gave her that dazed look of a quail on the center stripe of the highway, the one that wonders to itself just exactly how it got in this situation when all it was going for was a nice little walk. In his own quest for the mother lode known as 'Go-Go Tawney', the ReVole rolled two quarters to the end of the bar near the jukebox and waved at the bartender. A few moments later, the song filled the tiny room. She watched amusedly as the tavern occupants cut their respective rugs, then turned to the stranger. "What do you say, Mr.Mix? It's no wild dance on the mountain, to be sure..." She stood and held his misread hands.
"I don't dance with strangers," he stubbornly replied, yet stood anyway, and glancing down at her, continued, "And you have yet to tell me your name."
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Peter T. Date: 18 Jul 01 - 04:49 PM The song was a Condolezza Schwartz ditty, during her ill-timed "folk-rock prophecy" period, since it was released in 1974, but it did have a catchy beat. Condolezza beamed as the dancers hit the floor, and mouthed what she could remember of the words. It was called "Love is Two Consonants, One Vowel, and The Rest is Silence": -- "You say to me come to Ohio, but did you know That you can get high between the first o and the last, baby? That there is many a mile between the beginning and the end of smiles, baby? Love is our suitcases coming down the carousel at the airport together, and falling all over each other the way they do sometimes, and All We Are Saying Is Love Is Two Consonants, One Vowel, and the Rest is Silence!!!!!!!!!" (Heavy Power Chords for 30 seconds. The hamster and the vole bounce up and down. The bar fills with dance and smoke.) "Oh Baby, do I have to wait for continental drift to bring us together? You are like Greenland, which is bigger on the map than it is in reality, But it is all a projection, Mercator, equator, See you later, alligator Love is like when you wake up in the morning and you look over at the alarm clock and you have five more minutes before you have to get up, and then you go back to sleep and you wake up and you look over at the alarm clock and you still have five more minutes before you have to get up, and you go back to sleep for about five seconds and then you sit up because your alarm clock has died, and you are way late for work, BAAAAAABBBBYYYY!!! All We Are Saying IS LOVE IS TWO CONSONANTS, ONE VOWEL, AND THE REST IS SILENCE!!!! (Loud Noise!!!!!" Everyone applauds. Trail Mix turns to Uncle and says: "Might I get you a lemonade, ma'am?"
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Lonesome EJ Date: 18 Jul 01 - 05:14 PM Peter and Jen, I stand amazed (again). Let me get the two of you a bottle of Moet Chandon White Star Brut. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 18 Jul 01 - 05:54 PM And a toast to the best writers this sid eof the Cyber Divide!! A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Peter T. Date: 18 Jul 01 - 06:32 PM I must confess I am eagerly waiting for Condolezza to produce the sheet music for the "pajama dog" song. yours, Peter T. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 18 Jul 01 - 06:37 PM Actually, it flows pretty well to 'Land of 1000 Dances'...scary stuff. Toasts right back at you all. There is WhiteStar to share, ta Leej. ~J |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Hollowfox Date: 18 Jul 01 - 06:41 PM Hollwfox comes in from work, as usual she is a bit late and a bit disheveled. After checking with the barkeep , she borrows some glasses and pours out some sweet poteen for Sandy Paton for inviting her here in the first place, for Max, Susan, Dick Greenhaus, for making it possible in the first place, for Joe Offer for fixing the loose bits, and for George Ward who is fun to be with in a classy bar like this. I'd pour one for Kendall, too, but he didn't say whether he liked it at Old Songs or not. Thinking on it a bit, she calls for ciders for all those hard working elves. Then she sits down and looks around hopefully. It's been a long day, and she could use a glass of something.. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Gareth Date: 18 Jul 01 - 06:48 PM Carefull Jen Ellen, White star ran the RMS TITANIC - not to be introduced to ice Gareth |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Lonesome EJ Date: 18 Jul 01 - 06:57 PM Have a glass of champagne, Hollowfox? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Peter T. Date: 18 Jul 01 - 06:59 PM Trail Mix was gingerly bringing a lemonade to the Lady Uncle, when, by popular demand, Condolezza rose up from her chair like the singer of the Marseillaise in Casablanca, and said, fervently: "But that was the B side of that record!!! The A side was "MY ODE TO GREG!!!! ": -- and she began to wail -- "They said we were above and beyond reproach, but darling, Every time you approach, Something inside me says, coach, I want to be within reproach of you!!!"(BIG JOHNNY CASH BASS LICK) "Which came first, baby, the chicken or the egg? My love for you is like a chicken omelette, it is so complicated in its origins, But how can I beg? I feel so certain that I cannot encroach, And yet, Greg, I want to be within reproach of you!!!!!!" (BIGGER JOHNNY CASH BASS LICK) "Though you say that we can't cheat on her, I think your Definition of "cheating" is too suspicious, too nutritious, Like goatcheese -- Oh, darling, we ought to be reproachees!! I want so bad to be within reproach of you!!!!!!! (BIG FINISH). She sits, her hair falls in her face, she sweeps it back in the big "voila". The equivalent of the applause at the end of the Marseillaise fills the bar.
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 18 Jul 01 - 07:06 PM Thanks Gareth. Although through brief, and more than likely inaccurate, calculations... I appear to have added to that TitanicChampagne: 1/2 bottle of cabernet, Beaujolais (16glasses plus a bottle), a few pints of the Raskolnikov, 1/2 bottle of StEmilion, and a glass of lemonade.... An iceberg might just be appropriate at this juncture. *hic* And can you please point the way to the ladies room? ~J |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Gareth Date: 18 Jul 01 - 07:13 PM JenEllen Obvoiusly that Lemonade has made you feel a little unwell. Gareth |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 18 Jul 01 - 07:26 PM The Friend approaches Condolezza and whispers quietly in her ear for a few seconds. She turns and lets her hair whirl past her neck while gazing wiltingly at him. He gives her a warm smile and a peck on the cheek, for which she simpers nicely, and crosses to Jen's table, toward which she is slowly returning from a surprisingly long visit out aft. He hands her two horse-scale tablets of neon green, and gives her a smile of her own -- and exactly why none could tell, but was it a differnt smile? The angle of the jaw? The set of the teeth? The elevation of the left eyebrow -- it seemed, as some smiles do, to linger in the space resonating. "Ginseng, B-complex, astaxanthin and a little aspirin. It'll set you completely right in three minutes." She accepts them with a weaving hand, holding the back of her chair with grim resolve, and slumps down into her chair, throwing the giant tablets down the hatch as she does. Her eyes clear and her ears perk up, and she looks around. "Thanks, Friend! Amazing stuff! Condolezza, I am jealous -- you write such beautiful songs!! Where do you get your inspiration?" The Friend slips nightward once again, gazing toward the far faint constellations, smelling the night air with its delicate scent of magnolia languishing beside slow rivers, and noticing the faint trace odor of singed kittens...
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 18 Jul 01 - 08:18 PM The MudcatTavern ladies room was amazingly spacious. Complete with very uncomfortable loveseat and wilted magazines. The girl from Uncle stood there, kicking her shoes off and enjoying the coolness of the floor while perusing. There was even a recent People Magazine cover of Condolezza herself, and as she glanced through the article, she realized it to be not so much of a 'where are they now' as a 'where were they then'. She selected a tattered copy of Barmaid Monthly and pulled a stall door shut behind herself. In the magazine was one of those 'things people do that tell you alot about them' articles, and forgetting why she went into the stall in the first place, she began to read. 'People that go into the furthest stall from the door are generally very private people, while those that go in the stall nearest the door are all business.' "No shit." she thought to herself, as she stuck her head out and briefly counted doors to see what kind of person she was. There wasn't a listing for 'third door down', but she assumed it wasn't great. Not all together bad, like the stall you go into when you punch the speed dial on your cell phone to call home, and the breathy female voice that answers isn't yours. That's a bad stall indeed. No, this stall was in fact, physically and metaphysically, a very real stall, but at least there was paper. When the room finally quit spinning enough for her to finish the article, she left the ladies and returned to the table, gratefully accepting the horse pills and washing them down with a swig of Mix's lemonade. Better already. Icebergs, indeed. She finally managed to speak. "Condolezza, dear, may I borrow your guitar? For our newcomer Gareth, the only Titanic song I know....
Oh it was midnight on the sea
Jack Johnson went to get onboard
Titanic went around a curve
There were lifeboats all around
Jack Johnson, when he heard the news
And it's midnight on the sea |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: SINSULL Date: 18 Jul 01 - 09:18 PM Singed kittens???? Has Alice been warming them on the pilot light again. Damn. Got to go! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 18 Jul 01 - 10:56 PM And for Leej, the wonderful bartender and pourer of equally wonderful champagne, a little lullabye to go with your single malt:
Floating down a dream river
Sleeping in the darkest room
Don't want this night to end (whistles a few bars of 'You Belong to Me')
Don't want this night to end |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Chip2447 Date: 19 Jul 01 - 12:36 AM The newcomer, sitting aside, out of the way, raises his glass in thanks. After, a long draught, and some serious pondering, he finally steels himself and draws forth a large clay bass ocarina. Offering a silent prayer to Cleigh he plays a few slow, almost meloncholy notes on the big bass oc. He hoped that his voice wouldn't drive cats, dogs, and other small animals into fits of suicidal mania. "Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme. Come lift up your voices, in chorus with mine. Come lift up your voices, all grief to refrain. for we may or may never, all meet here again. Here's a health to the company, and one to the Lass. Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass. Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain. For we may or may never all meet here again....
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 19 Jul 01 - 01:32 AM A quiet but intense cheer ripples through the shadowed tavern populace, the fresh celebration of a nrew voice having stepped from the shadows. Huzzah, huzzah -- good man, sweet tomnes, and the right vibes!! Let's hear it for a new 'Catter, Chip-some-number- yclept!! Bravo!! And so to sleep, perchance to drum -- ah, there's the rub! 'Tis only time condemns our souls to folly, A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Hollowfox Date: 19 Jul 01 - 11:36 AM "Aah, thanks, Leej. This here sham-pain is much nicer than the real thing." Having finished her attempt at imitating that other Ohioan, she settles back to sip and savor the bubbly, and join on the choruses. Ohh yess, that feels goood! Amos, that last verse was magnificent. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 19 Jul 01 - 01:17 PM Nice stuff Moosie, you and Chip take a few pints from a lady? Thought you would! Now, where is that friendly stranger with the pixie-dust pills? There had to be more than vitamins in there....a song for him then:
(strums away all byrds-y and full of noodle-jangle)
With my eyes I've seen the world (noodle break)
In my mind a thousand times |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Chip2447 Date: 19 Jul 01 - 01:49 PM Tink tink tink... "A TOAST" he said as he stood and raised his pint. "Lad and Lasses, lift your glasses in toast to family and friends. Raise your cups, and drink it up, May the music never end. Three cheers for the landlord, HUZZAH, HUZZAH, HUZZAH. And three more for the company, HUZZAH, HUZZAH, HUZZAH May the music forever remain in your hearts, and your hearts forever remain in your music..." |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: mousethief Date: 19 Jul 01 - 01:56 PM Ye gods, they're drunk and singing. Time to squeak my way through the mousehole and on outta here....
O..O |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Amos Date: 19 Jul 01 - 02:10 PM The tall and quiet Friend stands in the shadowed entryway, entranced by beauty as the gentle chords of the Vole Adjustrix' song wash over his soul. Knotted and buried chords of life force spring apart and release themselves in fresh harmonics of memory, delight, and tinges of regret. Tincture of horizon light, the call from the edge of the world at first morning seeps through his nerves like stardust paints dreams, and he cannot tell for a moment where he is, and whether he is a smile, a tear, or a dewdrop in some greening treasured grove of endless, pleasant trees... As the song fades and the world reforms around him, he smiles again, blows the fairest Jen a quiet kiss through the open doorway, wrapped in a cloud of warm admiration, and turns to the giant Indian which stands ready, agleam in the moonlight, alive in the warmth of the parking lot. A quiet, powerful sobbing rolls across the night, the thunder of a huge muffled engine, bringing visions of throbbing diesels on dark coastal passages to the minds of the happy crowd within. It rises to a burbling bellow briefly, dampens, take sup load, accelerates and fades as the great machine wends into the night along the endless road toward reality and the unknown... |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: JenEllen Date: 19 Jul 01 - 02:12 PM The Woman from Uncle finishes her lemonade and stretches head to toe as she watches the BigMouse scurrying for the LittleHole. Someone needs to nail his tail to the floor for not singing more himself! She turns to the bearer of lemonade and sighs, "You have been a real pain in my.." "Neck?" he offers. "No," she replies, "Lower...Let me borrow the FriendlySilvertone and give you your song, then."
I've been searchin', and you've been gone
When we were younger, and we were strong
I've been searchin, and you've been gone
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: Gareth Date: 19 Jul 01 - 03:41 PM And the night descends, the oil black torpidity quieting and descending over the little town. A dim lamp glows outside the tavern, in the distance the hiss of the sea. And the shade of a soggy polar bear looks down and growls in a plantiff caveat " They rember the Titanic, but do they ever sing about the Iceberg " Gareth |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat Tavern 'On the House' From: MMario Date: 19 Jul 01 - 03:49 PM from under the table comes a jumble of lyrics and then this. |