BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: JenEllen
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 09:56 PM

Wait one Gawdamn Minute!!! ART! My stars and garters! You have an AUTO CLUB??? (the woman stumbles a bit against the bar) Does this mean you are a RESPONSIBLE ADULT??? Fer cryin' out loud, man....Here's the keys!

The woman grabs Morticia and heads for the store room. They pull down a box that hasn't been unused long enough to get cobwebs on it again. (keep your allusions to yourselves, folks)
"Shit...You mean she's locked in the ladies again?"
"S'what I hear.."

The two women load up, carrying grappling hooks, duct tape, and a couple of bandoleros filled with Pez dispensers. They then grab their lucky water pistols full of whiskey, don their Indiana Jones hats, and head for the ladies loo to spring Liz.

The woman stops at the bar long enough to top off her water pistol and hand the keys to Art, saying "If I don't make it back this time, make sure someone feeds my dog, eh?" It is all in vain, for Art has about him the glazed look of the Keeper of the Booze. The two women shrug their shoulders and head for the restroom....

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: SINSULL
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 09:45 PM

So we don't eat until the Epiphany? Glad I brought the cookies.

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: Amos
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 09:41 PM

Aurochs are usualy about thirty days on a side, depending on how you build the pit, MM! :>) Hope this helps!


A

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: SINSULL
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 09:31 PM

A woman walks in smiling to herself and lugging Christmas tins. Each is tied in colored ribbons and labelled "Lemon Bars", "Swedish Heirlooms", Tollhouse", "Rice Krispies Bars", etc. One tin is stamped "Adults Only" and has a tag marked "Bourbon Balls". She carefully places them under the tree, adds an ancient gold glass ball to the lowest branch and puts a baby blanket under it "just in case". Then she slips quietly behind the bar and helps herself to a large glass of JD on the rocks with a twist.

"Damn! I hate monkeys!", she mumbles and finds a booth in the back.

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: Gareth
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 07:37 PM

In a corner of the Tavern stands a Nativity tableau - complete with Sheep, why is this crowd of short dark hairy guys with funny acents singin "Ar hyd a Nos" clustered round it, and drinking bitter beer - Oh Yes, theres SHEEP in the Manger !!!

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: MMario
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 07:37 PM

Anyone know how long it takes to Barb-b-cue an Aurochs? And do you serve Velociraptor with a white or red wine?

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: ballpienhammer
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 07:34 PM

...when what to my wondering eyes should appear...

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: Rustic Rebel
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 07:17 PM

Hey bartender, won't you set me up with a shot of tequila and a lime please
Put this on Bert's tab for me will ya honey?
Can I have some change for the jukebox. Thanks.

I slide over to the jukebox and put in a couple dollars, Rick Fielding opens the show
I sit back up at the bar with my drink, the music is playing low.
The place is pretty quite, I think, for this time of the day
I look over across the room and Art Brooks is putting on an air-drum play.
This guy they call Spaw was just telling a story
of flames and farts and firey glory.
Jen Ellen just came from the womens room with wads of duct tape in her hands
Liz the Squeak follows soon behind, rubbing her cheeks from the duct tape bands.
Now the party is starting , can you turn the music up?
Come on over bartender and fill up my cup.
I'd like to raise a glass and have a little cheer
for all of you muddcatters that are here
I drink to your health in the bars,
I drink to your health in my home,
I drink to your health so damn many times,
I've almost ruined my own!

I think I feel a little buzz coming on...

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: Morticia
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 07:13 PM

well, in the absence of any one else,I suppose I'd better let Liz out of the stalls.....man, I can't believe we forgot her AGAIN.....she is going to be so pissed! Stand well back, gentleman.....this could get ugly.

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: MMario
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 07:06 PM

A stamping of feet comes from behind the door marked "Do not open in the presence of 'possums" - then it opens, admitting a blast of wintry air and the snow covered figure of a man in caped greatcoat with a strange woolen tophat. clutched in one hand is a large bell.

Happy Christmas He croaks hoarsly. Wind's bitter off the lake - so I thought I'd drop in for a pint to sooth the throat. He helps himself at the bar, humming the 'Huron Carol' as he mans the taps.

better figure out a menu soon he thought to himself - only 15 days or so to prepare.

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: Amos
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 06:38 PM

A cloud of dust raised up in the chill morning air outside the Tavern A beautiful low-slung Indian, packing a spring frame and heavily skirted fenders, and a rich 750 cubic centimeter in-line 4 cylinder engine making music like a diesel yacht at midnight on the Med, came sliding through 180 degrees to a perfectly balanced stop. Strapped to the back was a Dreadnought hardshell case only slight younger than the bike itself, layered like an archaeological site with travel stickers, old bumper signs, badges and hand-scrawled slogans. "ALL MY LOVE, FOREVER, JANIS..." was half covered with "Dive the Caves of Xel-ha", "San Francisco Cow Palace", "Newport 1962 -- We Were There! Love, Joanie", "Baby, Come Home!, love Cass", "Welcome to the Ruins of Big Sur!", autographs from Neal Cassidy, old LSD cartoons, "Purple Vibes Coffeehouse -- North Beach", "Heartbreak Hotel -- I've Seen the Original!", and "To a Real Road-Buddy! From Yore Pal, Willie!" competed for display space on the cover and sides. The newest of them, carefully placed next to the handle, was a glowing pink neon creation on a sky-blue background reading "Runamuck with The Best!!".

A lanky stranger stretched his long legs over the Indian's ornate fringed saddle and stood slowly, working out the kinks. From the back rim of his seat, a Cappucin monkey untangled itself from the calfskin fringes which he had been gripping for dear life, and nervously scrambled up onto the right shoulder of his dusty raw-leather riding coat, as the Stranger unstrapped the Dreadnought from the rear fender and picked up a large paper sack with strange bulges in it from one of the saddlebags.

He stood for a while in the doorway, smiling enigmatically as he spotted an old Silvertone banjo leaning up against the stone fireplace, and he pulled up a chair at a small table over by the tree. He took off the weatherbeaten bushman's hat, laid it on the table, and opened the top of the bag.

The monkey started to paw and chitter with great interest, and the stranger smiled affectionately and handed him the first of the lumpy objects inside. It was a tree ornament, shaped like a duck, with yellow bristly hair on its head and a gracefully curved body made of what looked like green soapstone. He handed it to the little feller who scrambled up the tree and strung it out on the tip of one of the branches. It was followed by an array of really unusual objects, all equipped with loops for hanging, and one after another, the monkey grabbed them and ran them to various bare areas on the tree -- a potato peeler, a miniature accordion, a miniature set of what looked like rainbow-hued CDs, a plaster gargoyle with his tongue sticking out in the middle of a friendly smile, an autoharp with tiny little miniature strings that hummed when you spanked it -- there were a dozen or more of them.

When the bag was empty, the stranger looked happily at the tree. THere was plenty of room for more!!

He shambled over to the bar, the dust wisping into the air from his tall leather riding boots, ordered a tall mug of Guinness, and sat down ruminating reflectively on the icons that dangled from the branches. The monkey curled up in front of the fireplace and was soon asleep in the welcoming warmth...

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: artbrooks
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 06:35 PM

Scruffy old gent cringes at the screeches coming from the Ladies can. He reaches into his old gig bag and feels around under the bodhran: "no, that's not it," as he passes by a set of spoons and a shaky egg. "There it is," he says as he pulls out his cell phone. "Hello, Auto Club? Can you get a truck with a winch out here? Where? I'm not entirely sure this place has an address...well, never mind..."

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 06:22 PM

He's got the squitters? Hell's teeth in a bucket, get me out of this damn stall PLEASE!!!!

I can't be doing with that again, I've only just grown the hair back on that side of my chest.

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: mytoycar
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 06:08 PM

I have breasts give me the job

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: catspaw49
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 06:05 PM

Geeziz, the place somehow never changes.......No matter what incarnation, there's always a certain sameness.............The Jello Pit looks good JE!!! I like the Red and Green combination....Very Christmassy........Yeah you pedantic types.....I know it ain't a word, but fuckoff huh?...........Cleigh will be along shortly, he's getting all duded up in his finery from WW....bubble wrap cape and all.   By the way, he's had a bad case of the Green Apple Quickstep so when he shows up, kinda' watch it.....The stuff is real slippery! Cletus, Paw, Buford, and the Reg boys are out on the road somewhere now and I kinda' hope they don't show up....I mean they can wreck a good time pretty quick or get us all arrested. But I kinda' miss them too, especially this time of year becasue it was right around this time when I first met them selling Christmas Trees......If you haven't heard the story, let me kick back with a big glass of Maker's Mark and tell you........Thanks JE..Fine bourbon!!!!... Yeah, well ya' see it was like this.....................................

I had noticed an area on Rt. 664 just outside of our little village being carefully prepared and roped off as I drove by and every now and then there were these three guys working there, building a little shed and driving stakes into the ground about 6 feet apart. It finally dawned on me that they were getting ready to sell Christmas trees. Now I have always gotten ours from the same place for years, but the prices were getting pretty steep so I kept an eye out for new sources. The day they put up the lights, I stopped to see when they'd be bringing the trees in.

As I got out of the van I couldn't help but notice that these three, from all appearances, were a bit "down on their luck" and it made me want to help them out a bit. Cletus came up to me and introduced himself and I asked about the trees. He was glad to tell me all about them in that way which I've since learned to interpret. At that time however all I could seem to understand was that they were "working on them." These many years later, that kind of phrase would set off alarms, but I didn't know Cletus then so I thought it was just an odd hilljack way of phrasing things. Paw came over and I liked the old guy a lot right away. He said he'd seen me before and I remembered something about the sewage plant and the day it exploded. I couldn't place what it was that this guy had to do with it but the correlation seemed quite vivid. I shook his hand and he farted in return.

I had never met anyone who was quite so casual with flatulence. Paw used it almost as punctuation......."How ya' doin'?" (rriippp) "Purty day ain't she?" (bbraawwmmpp)..........Let's say it took some getting used to and made it easy to understand why this old coot could probably not find gainful employment. But for all that, he was a friendly cuss who told me they called him Paw because he was from Paw-Paw, West Virginia. He pointed out the other fellow named Buford who was involved in extricating himself from a string of Christmas lights that seemed to have attacked him. Even from a distance, the unmistakable smell of Iron City brew was pretty strong. I figured he spilled about the same amount on himself as he drank and I later found this to be not only true, but the amounts involved were prodigious.

All in all, I couldn't help but like them even if they were, well, let's just call them odd and drop it right there. They told me the trees would be in and they'd be open for business on Friday at 6 PM. I left shaking my head at the idea of bringing Karen and the kids to "pick out the tree" as was so traditional with our family. What the hell? We could at least check them out.

On Friday afternoon Karen and I were going into Lancaster and as we passed by I pointed out the place, not that it was really necessary to point. I'd never seen anything quite so garish in my life but it was one of those gray Ohio days, very cold and occasionally spitting snow so perhaps it was the contrast......perhaps not. Karen was making comments about the place, but as we drove past we could both see the trees that were now in place quite well. Surprisingly enough, they looked magnificent! All were very full and perfectly shaped and a greener bunch of Christmas trees I'd never seen. Even at 65 mph, Karen saw one on the far end of the first row that she said was absolutely "the one!" Since she and our kids were going to spend the night with Connie and go shopping on Saturday, I promised her I'd stop back and get the tree and forget the tradition for one year.

So on my return trip I looked at my watch and saw that I'd arrive about the time Cletus told me they would open and sure enough, I was the first one there. Cletus, Paw, and Buford, greeted me as a long lost friend. They were really in the Christmas Spirit and offered me some of their "spirits." Friends, there is 'Shine and then there is 'Shine and whatever it was they had in the Mason jars was not. I found out later that this was a homebrew of their own and made not from corn, but soybeans instead, and distilled through an old radiator off a Mack. Luckily I only tasted it, but that single gulp went down like a 4-stage rocket, taking my breath away, and immediately starting to bore a hole in my stomach. After the coughing subsided I gave them the common courtesy line you use upon tasting any 'Shine..........."Smooth!"

They were all adorned themselves with some of the seediest Santa hats I had ever seen and were ready for business. They said I was the first customer and I nodded appreciatively while glancing about at the trees. Even up at a closer viewing they seemed almost perfectly formed and beautifully green and I thought the light snow must be the reason they glistened so under the glaring bulbs. It was dark now and the temperature had dropped to about 25 with a nasty northwesterly blowing in a chill from Alberta. My eyes were no longer crossed from the 'Shine and I slowly became aware that something was odd about the trees. They weren't moving at all. Not a branch, not a needle, absolutely nothing was moving although the breeze was pretty stiff. Paw commented on the weather and let fly an air biscuit as I walked over to the tree Karen had seen earlier. I reached out to touch it and it was positively stiff!

I felt several branches and the whole thing down to the smallest needle was like glass. I put a little extra pressure on a needle and it shattered in my gloved hand. What the hell was this anyway? Cletus came up and asked how I liked them as Paw and Buford tossed wood in a barrel to start a warming fire. I said I thought these were real trees, but they seemed to be artificial. Cletus protested they were real.......and recycled. Once in awhile you hear sommething that is so completely ridiculous that it takes some time before you can absorb the fact that the speaker is completely serious. Recycled Christmas trees. My mind was slowly opening to the sound of Cletus' voice proudly telling the tale of how they collected them last year and then formed them up, glued in branches with rubber cement, gave them several coats of shellac, painted them with spray cans of "Yew Be Green" epoxy, and topped the job off with several coats of lacquer.

I stared at the tree. I stared at Cletus. I stared at the tree. I stared at Cletus. I stared at the tree. I stared at Cletus. Cletus noticed I was a bit pale and pulled me by the arm over to the shed where Paw and Buford had finished filling the barrel and were dumping gasoline onto the contents. Cletus said that I should have another drink and then Paw asked if I was cold. I nodded vacantly, my mind still unable to absorb the insanity which surrounded me. Then I heard Cletus say, "Hey Paw, show him how we light a fire."

With that, Paw bent over pointing his butt at the barrel, Buford held a Zippo to his ass, and Paw ripped a monster of a fart, something akin to a Cherry Bomb in it's magnitude. An enormous flame shot out of his ass and ignited the barrel which flared high in the air. But it was a truly huge blaster and the flames not only ignited the barrel, but the nearest recycled Christmas trees. Coated as they were with such a combustible mixture, they didn't catch fire, they friggin' exploded! Bits of flaming plastic-like shards went flying away on the wind to explode the next tree, and the next, and the next. Within 30 seconds the remnants of every tree was flaming brightly and in less than a minute the flames were gone and 50 smoldering sticks were all that remained. None of us had moved and Paw was still bent over and looking over his shoulder at the charred remains of their business.

The next day when I picked Karen up, we stopped at our usual place and picked out a lovely Frazier Fir. I had told her the story and that I figured that here was a case where a single fart may not have saved the world, but at least did save 50 home fires. We stopped at their place and the boys were cleaning up the mess and told us it probably meant a Christmas that would be a little bleak for them. Karen is a kind soul and right then and there invited them to our place for Christmas Day. She said they should come early and maybe Santa will have left something for them and that they would be welcome for Christmas dinner too. As we drove home I tried to explain that this probably wasn't a great idea but Karen felt pretty bad for them and they had cheerfully accepted her invitation.

On Christmas morning they arrived at 6 AM and the day went downhill from there. But that's another story.

So friends, no matter how bad it is and how you feel, there is always a friend out there for you. Even if you're obnoxious, nasty, and haven't bathed in a month, there is always the chance that if you can light a good fart, miracles will occur.

Yeah, that was day I tell ya'.............and after while maybe I will......... Gimmee another Maker's Mark JE..............make it a triple.......

Spaw

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 06:04 PM

Damn... I'm sure that was some old granny coming to empty her colostomy bag... bet she thinks I'm in the ladies and won't go in..... some of these old folks don't like to be in there with others....

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: artbrooks
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 05:58 PM

Old guy hears a commotion from the back of the bar. Wanders over to see what all the fuss is about, and discovers its coming from the Ladies Room. Look down to check, and just as he remembered, he's a gent. "Can't go in there," he says. "Hope some gal shows up to see what's happening." Goes back to his table and begins to beat out a silent reel.

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 05:46 PM

So is anyone going to untie me from this blasted stall or do I have to gnaw my way out again?

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: artbrooks
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 05:29 PM

Scruffy old guy shuffles in. "Did I hear that there was a barkeep position open? I can mix any drink in the world, as long as its a vodka martini...shaken, not stirred. I can pour beer, with or without a head...except I draw the line at Coors light or that awful black stuff that comes over in a tanker ship from Ireland." Getting no reply, he wanders over to a table in back and begins to quietly play air bodhran.

Subject: BS: MUDCAT CHRISTMAS TAVERN '02
From: JenEllen
Date: 09 Dec 02 - 05:21 PM

Once upon a time in the Mudcat Tavern.....

"It sure is a dusty old place," she thinks to herself as she pushes the door back on its rusty hinges, "but it should shine in a jiffy." In no time, the place was in order: Mistletoe hung over a jukebox loaded with Mudcat music and rigged to accept dollar coins, Aboriginal Artwork from Alison and a stolen VanGogh from Amsterdam hung above the bar next to a 'Birth of Venus' painting of Spaw on a seashell and the spit-wad collage of Alan Lomax, and the behind-the-bar checklist was unearthed for perusal.

The woman blows the dust off of the ancient paper, untucks the pencil from behind her ear and mutters, "Well, there's no gift like the present, I guess.." and proceeds:

Kitchen aired out for MMario and elves? Check

TP in the stalls and napkins on the tables? Check.

Layabout cushions fluffed and big drool bibs handy in case THE FAIR ONE stops by? Check.

Booth in the corner usually reserved for 'saving the world from itself' political banter transformed into a cozy nook for Andres and kin?   Check.

Ad for new help? "Sweet merciful crap," the woman thinks to herself. With Leej doing double-time (can you sing Papa's Got A Brand New Bag?) we'll need a new part-time bartender!   "Should be easy enough," she mutters, "let's see......"

Wanted: Low-Strung/Low-Slung Part-time Barkeep for Cyber Tavern.
Applicant must be of slightly un-sound mind and sounder-than-average constitution. Must be willing to dole out brews like Raskolnikov and Turkey Turd as well as the good stuff. Must be able to memorize Bert's credit card number. Must know at least one tune from "Songs in the Key of Self".   Jello-pit cleaning, go-go hamster wrangling, and possum chasing experience a plus. Good hygiene is preferred, but not a prerequisite for employment. Mudcat EOE.

CHECK!

Now, the tree is set, if a bit naked, all that's needed is for 'Catters to decorate it, and slide cyber-gifts beneath it. First gifts: a damp little ribbon that has "TO THE FAIR ONE" scrawled on it, surrounding a teary recitation of "The Cattle Dog's Death" (can't get through it without crying, sorry, but you made my year by sending it) and an AVOCADO stocking stuffer for the guacamole princess, as well as a hollowed out log for Cleigh to sleep in and dream about girl possums.

Happy holday of your choosing, the drinks are on Bert.