BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Georgiansilver
Date: 14 Mar 07 - 12:10 PM

Scrumps centenary was quite a party, after all reaching 100 is not likely to happen for everyone. Poor old Scrump was bent in the middle like a one stringed fiddle and his skin hung from his chin as does the dewlap on a bovine. However, his faculties had not diminished with age and he was never one to miss a good opportunity (as the previous post bears witness). Reaching 100 for him was yet just another milestone in his life and with a bonus of the Queen posting congratulations to him on her own 'Mudcat' thread.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Scrump
Date: 14 Mar 07 - 11:37 AM

100!

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 14 Mar 07 - 11:17 AM

(Hey -- I'm sorry, but is it raining, or is it not? I thought they'd all be in the hall staying dry...)

A

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 14 Mar 07 - 11:07 AM

"Well, here's the deal, sweety. The cover is holding up fine as far as most of the folkies here go. But this Madison guy you threw into the mix to add credibility is a little better than you thought based on his cheap office address and his credit account and ben-Ikilk's Liquor and Deli. He's actually a bit of an intell gem, in his shabby way. The other thing is that someone's gone and stirred the coals by taking out one of the tree-huggers. ... Yeah, a .22 between the ibbles, nasty round hole with blackened edges right in the center. No, I wasn't involved -- I was up the hill having a break... So I need you to get back to Capo One with this, Terry... let him know I'm playing it cool but I am a little concerned. Also it looks like one of the fiddle players is a first cousin to the Area 51 tribe, tell him. He'll understand. No, I can't explain. I gotta go -- I joined a jug band and they're tuning up...I love you too. You know that, right? I wouldn't be here if I didn't...Loved not duty more, you know, and all that...Hugs...Keep the bed warm for me, alone....Yeah me, too... Bye now...".

He folded the microcell and slipped it into his jeans pocket, and grabbed the Dreadnought. "Lie down. Good boy. Are you a good Black Dog? Are ya? What're you good for? Yeah, yeah...." Bannock panted happily and curled into a loop on the floor. Argent drew the broad leather strap over his shoulders and started tuning. He ran a few riffs from "Boil Them Cabbage Down", and stepped over to the corner where the rest of the jugband was warming up.

Runs and riffs and twangs gradually crescendoed in the late, cool evening air as it wafted through the crowded great room, filled with mingling folkies of all sizes and states of dress, carrying the scent of fresh mountain rain.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: JenEllen
Date: 14 Mar 07 - 10:51 AM

"Hmm, I guess Argent seems all right considering the circumstances. Taking a break from the real-world is hardly tantamount to murder." She sighed. "Well, at least we know the military goons can't get in if we can't get out, right?" She looked at him hopefully and was not impressed with the lack of confidence radiating back at her.

"Big time military, Red" he said. "Equipment and technology you can't even imagine…. Real 'Area 51' type-of-shit" he took another drag on the unluckiest of the Strikes and continued: "If they felt like it, they could come for Argent with anything from Rambo to ET. His wife is scared that whatever secrets he might be carrying would be enough for him to disappear completely. If not from our own government, then from some other one who might want to 'help' him defect. And I get to try and sort it out for a lousy 5K."

"Bummer" said Red, as she took the cheetos bag and upended it in her mouth. She didn't get much for her trouble except a fine coating of cheeto-dust that she brushed off the front of her shirt in that Red Locks goofy good-natured way that she never knew men liked. "Aw, shit" she grumbled.

Outside, beautiful rendition of Wild Mountain Thyme had ended and the rain began to patter its applause on the tin roof. The Howling Coyote Jug Band and Kazoo Chorus was tuning up and it was looking to be a regular night at Folk Camp. They paused for a moment and looked out the window to see a beautiful woman come down the hill and join the others. In a trick of the dusk and weather, she appeared to float down the rocks with her fiddle. Blake blinked twice and Red rubbed her eyes, but neither commented to the other about what they thought they just saw.

"Ummmm," Blake started, then changed his mind. "Anyway, what's the deal with these folks? Am I trapped at naked day-camp only to subsist on bark and granola?"

"Naw. They're okay folks. It's only naked camp in as much as your modesty will allow. Hell, you probably wear less on a day at the beach. And, the chow is nothing to turn your nose up at. There's a cook here that can make gourmet out of garbage. You'll be fine."

"Unlike the stiff in the freezer" he countered.

"I told you I have that covered," she said. "There's a woman here who is fond of footie-pajamas. She plans a big surprise finale with a lot of costumes and inflatable toys," she paused to let the wave of astonishment pass over Madison's face before she continued: "I passed around that it's going to be phenomenal this year and she is storing the props in the freezer for secrecy. No peekies. The cook said he'd run off any rubbernecks…."

Blake Madison waved his hand briefly to stop her. His astonishment was more a flash of unbidden curiosity at the thought of what a bunch of frozen inflatable toys might do to a herd of naked folks that from what he'd seen were mostly hung like basset hounds and tube socks with shot elastic. "Stop, please," he begged. "Poison in small doses." When he gathered himself, and lit another Lucky Strike, he continued: "The guy in the freezer will be fine. He's dead. It's the living people, particularly the one who shot him, that we need to be worrying about at this point."

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 14 Mar 07 - 09:23 AM

Damn. Just her luck she'd get a negative back from HQ. Lindy tucked her com-boosters back under her hair, closed her third eye lid and stood up to stretch. There was nothing for it but she'd have to rejoin her friends and hope none of them had noticed her absence. She was back in the game and the hunt was on. She really wished she'd been called off. if she ever did find the UF, she might have to turn over her fiddle and that was something she didn't want to do. In the meantime, she heard her Mudcat friends singing one of her favourite tunes, so she added her voice as she strode down the hill to join them...all around the bloomin' heather...

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 14 Mar 07 - 12:34 AM

Argent, still dressed and glad of it, slipped out the back door of the kitchen as the heavy freezer was locked down, and gave Bannock his soft secret whistle. Together they wended their way up to the Rover. His head was spinning at the way things had gone -- the Mounty flying off the handle like that, Red missing her connection with hi as a result, Blake Madison showing up, the killing of the wandering loony. He popped another Guinness, gave the dog some water, and stretched out in the old camp chair. Down the hill, a violet glow caught his attention, and he noticed an antennaed profiles tucked behind some boulders, glowing in the night. "Geeze, Bannock! I didn't know these gettogethers brought them in from Arcturus!"
Bannock yawned and made a gwamping sort of sound in reply. He'd spotted the ET in the crowd the first trip down, but she was clearly not dangerous, and smelled okay.

Miffed at the black dog's rebuttal, Argent lit his pipe again.

"I don't get it, Bannock. A .22 from the woods? Out here? Why? Who was that loony sounding dudelo who just got taken out?"

"And where did the Mountie go with Dundee? Were they in the woods? Why take out someone as harmless as a wet poptart? Bannock, what the hell is going on down there?"

Bannock was starting to snore, leaving the lanky stranger alone with his thoughts as the moon rose broad and silvered over the lake.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 11:50 PM

"I'm working for Theresa," Madison said, then lit one of the bent Lucky Strikes that had probably been manufactured in the 40s. He inhaled deeply, coughed uncontrollably for about 20 seconds and said through clenched teeth "museum quality." He sat down on the bed and said "Argent's ok. He just pulled a disappearing act. Took out half the 401 K, packed his bags, left for work one morning and never came back. Theresa's his wife, a real trooper that really gives a damn about him." Madison took another pull on the Lucky and exhaled saying "wow...wonder what that's like." Outside some one began to sing "Wild Mountain Thyme" in a clear tenor voice, and the entire group of folkies joined in a soaring harmony on the chorus "...and we'll all go together." Madison paused, looking almost wistful, and said "they're hipper than I thought. That's a Byrds song." Red laughed and said "it's a folk song. See? Give these people a chance. You might like them." Madison smiled and said "we'll see. At least one of them is a murderer." He smiled the Blake Madison goofy good-natured smile that he never knew women liked, and said "maybe it's you done the killin." She laughed and said "so you're supposed to keep an eye on Argent, or take him back, or what?"
"Give me some of those Cheetoes," he said. "Well, its complicated. Theresa is not upset that he's having a little mid-life fiesta. I told her he's not screwing around on her. But, Argent is a code-writer and programmer for the government. In fact," he said, popping another Cheeto," he's the main programmer for NORAD."
"You mean the missile system?"
"Yep. He holds the highest priority clearance for a private citizen in the US government. He's not been to the office for 6 days and they're becoming a wee bit concerned, Theresa's been telling them he's got severe laryngitis. But if they find out he's flown the coop..."
"They'll send someone after him."
"Right. The goon squad, and the feds have some big-time goons. You heard him say he's armed, right? He left a note, says he's been a caged animal for 23 years and he's done, and he's not going back alive."
"And this shooting. Does it have anything to do with him?"
Madison examined the cheeto stain on his Lucky Strike butt and said "you tell me."

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 11:05 PM

Lindy-Lou wasn't sure what a looky-lou was but she wasn't going to find out, either. As soon as she'd seen the stiff, she hightailed it out of there, grabbed her fiddle from the cabin, well, she couldn't very well leave it behind. It had been gifted her by the Great Tone-Bum from the outer galaxy of Hobonimus, it's like unknown in any known universe. To the earth-bound it just looked like an old beater, but with a well-practised third eye the beauty and rarity of it shone like a beacon, glimmering shoals of colour in its body almost susurrating in a blend of otherwordly tunes.

Once she cleared the meadow and scooted carefully past the hot springs, Lindy found an outcropping of granite boulders to hunker down behind. With her Long-View, she could keep an eye on her folk friends and watch for the projectile-spewing weapon which had apparently killed the stranger. It was a bitch, really, being constrained by the ethics board. The earth-bound didn't know how right they'd gotten it when they made the popular show, Star Trek, in which no one was allowed to interfere with local happenings.Prime Directive, indeed. A much more succinct way of putting it than the "The sort of bloody nonsense up with which we shall not put" which dominated her Universal Codebook. She could have saved the hiker, but her Implant Cue was programmed specifically against that. She shook her head at the tears that leaked from her eyes. Not intervening is what left her missing the Love of her artificial heart. If only she could have saved him, she wouldn't be alone on a planet far from home still trying to complete a sorry-assed mission which had been dragged out over millennia, herself being the latest sacrifice to the Great and Terrible Counsel of Stringed Ones and their search for the Ultimate Folkie.

Sitting as still as a statue, she opened her third eye and let her antennae emerge from the top of her head. As she stilled her thoughts, she began to transmit...Urgent...advise on protocol...one earth-bound dead...abort mission? She sat back, concentrating on an answer, waiting for it to transcend to her space.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 10:27 PM

(As Patton said on the morning after battle, surveying the ruination, "Dear Gawd, I do love it so!!" )

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: JenEllen
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 10:01 PM

Ominous clouds rolled over the sun as the group closed the door on the industrial freezer. Red looked up to the sky and shivered involuntarily. The warm winds so plentiful earlier in the day had long since vanished, and with the sun setting into a dark wall of clouds it looked like they were in for a rainy night. She knew it wouldn't do the streams any good, but she was secretly grateful that Madison was there. At least he had the foresight to have Mermaid-Man take pictures before the crime scene was totally washed away.

Red dusted her hands off just above her mud-splattered knees and turned to speak to Madison and Argent. Only the former was present, and with a nasty look on his face, too. "He ran for it?" she asked.

"He won't get too far." Madison replied. "Probably just trying to get someplace dry before the rain hits. We should do the same."

"There's a spare bunk in our cabin. You're welcome to it. I apologize in advance, but your upstairs neighbor is Mermaid Man's big brother. In your prayers tonight give a shout out to the gods of sturdy lumber and strong nails." She grinned.

The two reached the cabin as the first sprinkles fell. Red pointed toward a bottom bunk in the corner and when Madison turned to thank her all he got for his troubles was a great view of the cabin door. "Fan-freakin'-tastic," he thought to himself as he tucked the .38 under his pillow.

Some time later he heard footsteps approaching the cabin—someone was running hard to beat the rain—and narrowly dodged the swinging door as Red shot into the cabin with her arms loaded.

"This is the best I could do on short notice." She said as she flipped the gear out onto his bunk. Dry socks, a Turkey Turd Beer sweatshirt, a half-eaten bag of cheetos and a pack of smokes that looked as if it'd been shoved in a glove box since the early eighties. Manna from heaven as far as Blake Madison was concerned. "Now you owe me one." She grinned.

"What? Should I save your life again" he asked.

"Now," she growled, grabbing the cheetos and cigarettes, "This crap here is the only sin to be had for miles around. I suggest you be nice. Especially since I came up with a primo cock-n-bull story to keep people out of the freezer until we know more." With that admission she tossed the goods back on the bed and herself followed quickly behind them. She sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, head in hands, elbows on knees, and asked the 64K questions: "So, what's up with this Argent, and better yet, who's Teresa?"

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: JenEllen
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 04:15 PM

*GASP* duh-duh-duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (good stuff y'all)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 04:00 PM

Madison checked the lifeless form of the hiker. A single hole like a blue caste-mark lay in the forehead. Madison stood up, scratched under his fedora for a moment, and finally looked at Red. "I'm amazed," he said. "What do you mean?"
"Two things," Madison extended two fingers. "First, when the hell did I tell you you should go unwind at a flippin Folkie Retreat?"
"And nudist colony," she added.
"..and nudist..." repeated Madison. It was then he was struck with the realization that everyone in the gathering crowd was naked except for Blake himself, Red, and the gunshot victim.
"You'd think a guy who makes his living as an investigator would have caught that one a little earlier," she said.
"I never claimed to have any of the traditional qualifications," he said.Then he shrugged it off and extended his second finger. "And number two. What the hell is the road doing running through a river?"
"Snow melt and an ice jam further down the creek," Red answered," water's been rising for the last 12 hours." Madison watched the water now eddying up around the Merc's door handles."Is there another way out?"
She simply shook her head. "Your cell phone work?" She smiled "nobody's cell works out here. And no, there's no land line."
He instinctively reached for a cigarette, feeling around in his shirt pocket. "Hell of A time to quit smoking" he said.
"What about him?" Red asked.
"Oh, him. Deader than a carp."
"We can't leave him here, can we?"
"Well, we'd be disturbing a crime scene. Hey you..Mermaid Tattoo!" A large bearded fellow with a digital camera stepped forward. "Get a couple of shots of the scene, will you?" The man did as asked. As the man moved around the corpse and the flashes illuminated the surrounding crowd of nude folkies, Madison said "They have a big freezer here?"
"They have a refrigerated locker at the main cabin behind the kitchen."
"OK. Hey, Aussie hat!" The grizzled master of the sleeping Bannock clenched his pipe in his teeth and said "ok", grabbing the dead man by the ankles. Madison grabbed under his armpits and said "lead the way, Red."

They lumbered slowly along toward the cabin and Aussie hat said "stroke of luck, you being a cop and being here when somebody's murdered." Madison grimaced saying "I'm not a cop. I'm a private dick." The Aussie cap smiled and said "a matter of infidelity?"
"Something like that. Hold on a minute." He put the shoulders down on the ground and they paused. "You're not very good at your job, are you Mr Private Dick? You think I don't recognize that Mercury? That I haven't been seeing you three cars behind me all the way from San Diego?" Madison smiled. "I guess the jigs up, Mr Argent."

They picked up the body again, and Madison said "Say Mr Argent. You carry a gun don't you?" Argent smiled and said "Theresa would have already told you that. It's in my truck. Why? Do you think I shot him?"
"No Mr Argent. You carry a .357 Mag. Guy wouldn't have a forehead if you'd used that. No this is small caliber, .22 or so, but from a distance, and in the dark."
"So, I'm in the clear?"
"Your pistol is," said Madison.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: JenEllen
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 02:29 PM

Red stepped into the clearing and into a puddle of goo that was pooling up around the low-slung Merc in the drive. She knew the car, and the driver, and also knew that those two things paired up with the gunshot she'd just heard made for a 'Holy Shit' trifecta of no-good.

"Madison…" she hissed. "So help me…." She heard the squish of water-logged socks trapped in wingtips and turned to see him re-enter the clearing.

"Red? What are you doing here?"

"Enforced vacation. It was your idea, remember? What about you?"

"Can I get away with a lie about the irresistible lure of folk music?" The woman grimaced and he continued: "Yeah, that's what I thought. I got a little bit of work that may be more difficult than first imagined."

"The gunshot?"

"Yup. Just on my way to investigate."

"Better grab your gear before this wreck sinks into oblivion. Need a hand?"

When they exited the clearing, they saw a small group of people gathered around a form lying on the ground. The sleepy dog snuffed around the group warily. Thankfully the raucous nature of the gathering had ensured that the majority of revelers had not seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. Red gave a small sigh of relief—there was nothing Blake Madison hated more than a murder scene surrounded by looky-lous.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 01:04 PM

(Whoeee... a moment of Cusp doth approach!!.... Way ta go, Red!)


A

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: JenEllen
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 12:38 PM

Red quietly closed the cabin door behind her. She leaned against it and gave a deep sigh as she reached down to touch her toes. Sitting on the plane, train, car, covered wagon, and pack mule it took to get to this camp, and then sitting again to play in the Tavern had just about dissolved any of the goodwill that she had left. She had tiptoed from the Tavern (not that any had noticed, given the theatrics of the gigantic one) and now stood tall, reaching her hands toward the exposed beams of the cabin roof.

She tucked the fiddle away gently in its case, and then turned to her suitcase. She rummaged for a minute until she found a decrepit pair of running shoes and pulled them on. She then pulled a sweatshirt over her head and sifted through a pocket full of SD cards in her suitcase to find the one marked "RUN". She plugged it in and hit 'play' on the device in her pocket before heading out into the sunshine. Immediately a deep, bass throbbing began in her ears and she skipped off down the road

You're designed so intelligent
Ain't no way that was an accident
Come on shake your monkey hips
My pretty, little creationist…..oh yeah

Ain't gonna anthropomorphosize yuh
Or perversely polymorphosize yuh, yeah
Little girl you look so sweet
You gotta dance like a monkey, dance like a monkey, child…

As she rounded the Tavern she grinned and shook her head. Public nudity, intoxication, and more than likely a conflagration, or even a jello-pit or two before the night was over. It was a wonder that anyone could imagine these gatherings tame.

Non-believers blame it all on apes
It's monkey-time I wanna see you shake
Evolution is obsolete
You gotta dance like a monkey, dance like a monkey, child
Stomp your hands and clap your feet
You gotta dance like a monkey, dance like a monkey, child

She began to pick up her feet a bit and breathe deep. She noticed the small camp where the dog with a decidedly full belly had dug out a small hole in the dirt and lay with his tummy in the sunshine. "Some guys have all the luck.." she chuckled to herself, and then took a fairly well-marked trail back into the trees.

C'mon pretty baby, won't you take a chance?
Be my natural selection and dance, dance, dance
Exorcise your demons with that monkey grin
'Cause we gonna inherit the wind

Let 'em fight it out in the Supreme Court
That's such a mad, lame indoor sport
Wave your arms and legs up in the air
Rock it like a monkey, like you just don't care
Evolution is obsolete
You gotta dance like a monkey, dance like a monkey, child
Stomp your hands and clap your feet
You gotta dance like a monkey, dance like a monkey, child

She had just rock-skipped across a stream, and The New York Dolls were just winding down in her ears. In the brief second before Reverend Horton Heat began complaining about his "F*cked-Up Ford", she heard the sharp crack of gunshot and skidded to a halt.

She ripped the buds from her ears and tried to quiet her gulping breath and thumping heart. Where had the shot come from? Exertion and adrenaline competed for valuable space in her bloodstream while she looked around wide-eyed in the relative dimness of the trees. Who would be firing a gun so close to a campground full of folkies? She wound her headphone cords and tucked them into her pocket as quietly as she could, and then began gingerly picking her way through the trees to what looked like a clearing up ahead.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 09:18 AM

(I second that! Madison rides again!! Whoo-hoo!)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 08:26 AM

(LOL!! The image of this flatfoot city dick wandering into Camp Hugatree is too rich!! Well done, amigo.)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 13 Mar 07 - 02:23 AM

Madison really had to pee. He'd had 4 cups of coffee since he crossed the state line and then a 32 oz Hawaiian Punch Slurpee at a convenience store in Denison. The bouncing of the road ruts, rocks, and tree roots under the Merc wasn't helping matters, but he knew he was close to the camp : Ahead he saw lights in the window of the cabin, shining through some sort of low-lying fog.

The knowledge that he was about to meet a group of sandal-wearing, beret-sporting, bearded Burl Ives's and buxom bra-less patchouli-scented Mama Casses in flannel mumus, all of whom were sure to see through him, despite his extensive knowledge of the Limelighters gleaned from listening to 2 1/3 of their songs, this knowledge made him a bit nervous. These people were throwbacks to the coffee houses and poetry readings of the fifties. They probably had bongo drums and sipped espresso and talked about Kafka and wore "Ban the Bomb" buttons. They probably still smoked pot from large hookahs in the centers of meditation circles...at least he hoped they still did. He suddenly regretted passing Gino's Submarine Station back on the highway. He was not likely to find any pepperoni or sausage among the folkies. No burgers, or pizza, or frozen enchilada dinners. No. These people probably brought organic squash and brown rice they had grown and harvested themselves. They would certainly have a score of rag-tag, filthy, ringworm-infested children running around with shirts and no pants on. They would begin everyday with Little Houses made of Ticky-tacky strummed on a balalaika by some tousel-haired moron with a bobbing adam's-apple, a belly-full of prozac, and a gentle smile who would play gently just outside your door until the sound would reverberate in your head like the driving of Tom Henry's railspike, or Phil Bunyan's ax, or something. He would smile as you headed for the bathroom and whisper "good morning friend!" Every night would end with everyone holding hands and singing Michael Row the Boat Ashore with tears in their eyes. One other thing....there would be no liquor. He silently congratulated himself on laying in a cache of whiskey, then realized he'd better hide it in the woods or the folkies would have it, just to relieve themselves from the monotony.

But he felt nervous and uncertain, and he needed a smoke. A pee and a smoke. The Pall Mall pack was still empty, and he rooted in the ash tray for a significant butt. He found one about three-quarters of an inch long, pushed the lighter in, and held the lighter uncomfortably close to his face as he attempted to light it. Just as the end ignited, he hit a small boulder or something, jammed the cigarette into the lighter element, and the ember burst all over his pants. Frantically, he began to smack the little pieces of burning ash, stepping hard on the brake. The Merc came to a stop in the middle of a small stream that was in flood and crossed the drive. The splash of muddy water hit the windshield as if thrown from a bucket, and that's when the engine quit. He turned the key, and the starter gave a weak sputter. The second twist of the key yielded even less. "Son of a bitch," Madison said, without much conviction. He pushed the lighter in. At least that still worked. He got the butt lit, and as he drew in the smoke, the sound of the stream filled his ears, and he realized again the urgency to pee. He opened the door, clicked off the dome lights, stood on the door bottom, leaned against the open door and began to answer nature's call.

Somewhere, a violin sung a soft melody. Madison sighed with relief, zipped up, then saw a flash 3 or 4 hundred feet away at the forest edge, followed by the sharp report of a small-caliber handgun. "Damn it. This I don't need." Stepping into the stream and soaking his wingtips, he squished off toward the scene of the shot.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 12 Mar 07 - 11:21 PM

Lindy-Lou finally just let herself go; she took on the persona assigned and assimilated. Heck, she sorta knew most the folk there anyway if ya could count the cyberchats, Paltalk jams and telephone calls. Strange bits of conversation flitted through her mind as well as riffs from bygone pleasures. She reached behind her, slung her fiddle case across her front and lifted the strap over her head. Setting it down on one of the tables, she opened it and began to tune up, as well as tighten and rosin the beau (sorry, couldn't resist!)

As she started to play, a strange mist seemed to envelop her; it glittered and glinted with some kind of strange light. Most folks had their eyes closed and were listening. They knew they'd heard the tune before. All of a sudden one of them remember and put it together, shouting out, "It's Lindy-Lou!! I'd know that tune and fiddle anywhere. Remember back in HearMe, June of '01? Heya, Lindy! Howya doing, gyrl? What was the name of that tune, again?"

It took a minute before Lindy responded. She stopped mid-tune, turned toward her old compadre and smiled, "Why, Bertdarlin'...I called that one Nebula Rising. It's so nice to see you, again." As soon as she'd stopped playing the mist gathered itself and left through the open window, for all the world looking like the ghost of Christmas Lost. Just as Lindy started to play another tune, they all stopped dead in their tracks as they heard the shot ring out.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 12 Mar 07 - 09:47 PM

The stranger decided to give the merry-makers another chance; besides, he wanted to make music, and hear music and see Red. So he whistled Bannock back from the gopherhole he had found behind the tent, picked up his Dreadnought case, and strolled down the hill in the lengthening shadows. Halfway down he scanned the purple horizon, and noticed a pair of pircing, bouncing headlight beams wending through the trees over by the approach road. From the way they danced he could tell it a big, springy car -- maybe a '79 Buick, he thought -- and he could tell something else, too. It was being driven by someone from the city, who had no concept of how to hande a muddy, rutted back-country road in a car. He smiled and scanned the view in toward the clearing. At the edge of the space around the main lodge, he spotted the faint image of the madcap traveler who had zigzagged through his campsite earlier. The turquoise blue of his short hiking shorts reflected palely in the shadows of early evening, and as the stranger's eyes adjusted to the night he could see the man was waving his arms emphatically, facing into the woods. There was no-one visible. The stranger assumed the madcap wanderer was just having himself a spirited mumble with his Higher Self or some such thing.

The twilight was split in half by the sound of single shot, and the demented traveler at the edge of the woods threw his hands to his throat and keeled over into the pine needles.

The stranger broke into a run.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 05:02 AM

(Oh, hot damn. Heeeee's baaack!)


A

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Partridge
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 04:58 AM

I'm really enjoying this........but am scared to join in DOH!

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 04:04 AM

He had been driving 32 hours non-stop. Unless you counted the 45 minute nap at a deserted filling station somewhere between Colby and Hays Kansas. The sun was setting now, and he was listening to Jay Farrar's forlorn voice intoning
"she's a cemetery savior
blown down from Northern Skies
did time on the asphalt plains
she's a cemetery savior..."
then the electric buzz of the steel guitar fed through a Marshall Silver Jubilee that zipped through his ears, carrying away all negative thoughts. Well, most negative thoughts.
He was still not sure if keeping tabs on an aging California folkie who was on the lamb from an ICBM launch facility in San Diego was his bailliwick. And he wasn't sure at all that the 5000 plus expenses he was being paid was worth this marathon journey through the nightmare of the American heartland. He was still haunted by the kid who'd waitedon him at breakfast at Mamas Cafe in Denver. The kid had seated him at 1:15 am in the empty restaurant, he had ordered a hearty breakfast of chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, and the kid had told him he had been busted one year previously for possession with intent to sell cocaine, amphetamines, LSD and mushrooms. Now the kid was clean, he didn't miss the parties, the bankroll, the BMW, the casual sex...he had a clean system and Jesus. The kid was 27. Madison sat listening and realized what a dilletante he had been when it came to life on the wild side. No BMWs, no bankroll. Maybe the occasional hit of acid before going to see 2001:A Space Odyssey. Yeah, there was the whiskey, but Madison was upholding a family tradition in that respect. No, all the doors that Blake and his cohorts had pried open in the 60's in the name of freedom, had instead admitted a host of monsters.
Out of some sense of responsibility for the kid's tough breaks, Madison left him a 5 dollar tip on a 9 dollar tab, left the kid wiping a clean table in an empty restaurant in the depths of the American night, and swung the Mercury back out and onto the Great Eastern Highway.
Blake glanced at the duffle on the passenger seat, the one that held a change of socks and underwear, 400 dollars in cash, three fifths of Four Roses, and 5 cds which included Love's Forever Changes, Miles Davis' Kinda Blue, Sweetheartof the Rodeo, the Son Volt Straightaways cd he had in the box, and The Very Best of the Limelighters, which was Madison's attempt at absorbing some folkie ambiance before hitting this "Mudcat Getaway". Madison glanced down at his mustard-stained blazer, crumpled tie, threadbare slacks,and beat-up wingtips and mumbled "I look more like Dean Martin at the end of a 9 day binge than Pete Seeger". He stared for a moment at the glove box, then popped the hatch and took the 38 caliber revolver out, checked the safety, and stashed it under the passenger seat.
He steered the Merc onto a gravel side road and squinted at a sign that said "Paradise Valley ahead 5 miles." He ate two more No-Doz which he chased with a slug of bourbon, and prepared to enter the folkie atmosphere.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 11:24 PM

(Well done, Janie!! I promise to get back in here this weekend!)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Janie
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 10:53 PM

(...and then what happened?)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 10:15 PM

(Go Janie, go! The cavalry, in the nick o' time!)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 10:12 PM

That's the spirit Janie!

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Janie
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:08 PM

Lindy-Lou was mostly watching the goings-on in the clearing, both puzzled and amused. Her third eye, casually scanning the surrounding area, noticed that Rodney had emerged from a copse of trees on the far edge of the hill above them. Then a motion up on the ridge caught her attention. She watched as the stranger stood and stretched. He reached into the truck and got his hat, which he settled firmly on his head. Without haste, he doused the campfire, called his dog, then set out toward the clearing.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Janie
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 08:54 PM

For years afterward, Josey would break into fits of laughter every time she thought of it.

It was the melodeon player what saved the asses of both York and Dundee and made them friends for life.

When Josey toppled over onto the dance floor, a few kind souls lifted her by her heels and shoulders and carefully deposited her on the pile of clothes by the door. The sound of her snoring drove a few people away from the tables nearest where she lay sleeping off the effects of the Bushmill(s), but the stringband that had materialized out of the disparate musicians simply adapted themselves to her cadence. She slept peacefully on for a good 45 minutes. Occasionally she would get a bit restless and mutter "Who the hell is Blake Madison," but then she'd settle back into sleep, snug under the cotton shirts, jeans and jackets that one of the Englishwomen had laid over her, rather like a patchwork quilt.

She came to abruptly as folkies stampeded out the door, many of them jerking their clothes out from under and off top of her as they fled out into the night, hurried pulling on jackets and jeans against the evening chill.

"Huh? Wha...? She bolted upright and understood in an instance what had happened. She, too, rose and fled into the dark chill of the night, intent on getting as far away from the melodeon as she could.

York was running just a little ahead of Dundee. The agile, fit Mountie knew he could outrun the big man with no problem, and had slowed enough to tease Dundee into thinking he had a chance to catch him. He was grinning with victory when he ran out of the brush and back into the clearing. Startled by the crowd that had moved outside of the bar, he skidded to a halt. Dundee burst out into the clearing right behind him, roared like an enraged grizzly, and charged the smaller man. No doubt about it-one of 'em was about to die.

The melodeon player had follwed the crowd to the door. Taking in the scene in an instant, he knew his time for glory had come. He knewjust the tune to play to enhance the drama of the moment! Marching boldly into the crowd, shoulders back, chest out, he began to turn the crank just as Dundee's handcuffed arms went over Yorks head to throttle him....

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 03:48 PM

(I like, I like, Amos! I'll be back this weekend. Had the grandson late the past two nights and all day today, plus trying to get our taxes done.:-)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:23 AM

(Janie? LEJ? Jen? Kat? Where are youse guys!)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 08:33 PM

(Aw Geeze. Peter T, are you out there? Earth to Peter T.....)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 10:02 AM

He put the pan down just outside the driver-side door, where it sat steaming in the cool late Spring afternoon with its rich burden of canned dogfood, and the dog fell to with gusto. Bannock gobbled the stuff up, licked up all the gravy vigorously, inhaled the minute scents clinging to the pan inch by inch, and then pushed the pan around in circles with his nose, backing and filling around it in an energetic dog-incantation designed to make it magically refill. But the stranger was having none of that. He filled a small plastic bown from a jerry can of water strapped to the rear bumper and put it down next to the pan. Bannock fell for the ruse, and began slurping it up with his long opposable tongue.

He sat in a folding camp chair by his tent,and lit an old briar pipe, watching sundown cast long shadows across the vale below, nursing a Guinness, and decided life was good. Or, at least, that it could be good, he thought, reflecting on the memory of the red-headed miracle he had seen earlier. Damn shame that Mounty had gotten carried away before she got to him. Knowing Dundee he would get the charges reduced to drunk and disorderly and have them laughed out of court.

A wandering soul appeared noisily from the brush on the backside of the hill, weaving perilously back and forth toward his camp. He seemed to the stranger to be intensely preoccupied with internal voices of some sort, muttering under his breath. The fellow looked lost, although his zig-zagging path seemed to be accumulating a net vector toward the folkie camp in the vale. But he veered and wandered in so many directions that the stranger thought he might be drunk. The fellow was wearing thin flip-flops, a teeshirt and tight blue hiking shorts. He was dust-coated and looked like a man deprived mightily of something he hadn't noticed was missing.

The meandering traveler passed by the stranger's site about ten yards away, cresting the hill and wandering vaguely down the other side. The stranger could hear the wanderer mumbling to himself, in a liquid susurrus of tongues which sounded like Portuguese Bantu, rhytmic, fluid, and meaningless. The lost, mad soul faded into the twilight, sloping off downhill toward the camp.

The stranger shook his head in bemused sympathy. "Another broken fool, Bannock, overwhelmed by the grinding Wheel of noisy life at the bottom of the gravity well. Jes' another well-frog, I guess." He reached over and flipped open the dusty guitar case lying nearby. He strummed gently, and sang softly, his fingers finding their way from long practice, the runs unfolding over the lengthening sundown shadows like a warm breeze at the start of night.

I didn't know his name
I didn't know his name,
Another man done gone,
I didn't know his name,
Another man done gone....

Bannock finished pushing his water bowl in circles and came over, and turned in the low grass three times around before settling in a happy lump by his chair and dozing to the soft music.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 08:59 PM

(GS -- color between the lines, here, wouldja? :D)


A

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Georgiansilver
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 07:36 PM

Selais de carforet del manet de cour. Marie dalet de ter fornetic el a nostero don terro tel fernecas contrica do perla. Dundee savera del conde maer a costera ti canawa unda del perlicado montre pesco delicatero sonde lare. Bannock entedado del quistadore en porta core tuela unde der pistolete tirequio unexpectaremonte unte il este muertore. Sile vouse note undrsatendere zize staetemente iste note unerstanabele

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 03:17 PM

The stranger sat behind the wheel in the silent old Rover and peered down the hill through the dirty windscreen. He slowly folded the small, silvery-metal communicator in his large right paw, and watched the hijinks outside the door of the long cabin, catching glimpses of Dundees large posterior coated with fragments of snow and twigs, as the huge, handcuffed brute started a weaving gallop around the corner of the building, chasing York's smaller and cleaner butt out of sight.

He swung his attention back to the entrance. Right on schedule, bouncing sun-beams in all directions like a blue-jean Madonna, the redhead had pulled up in a small pickup truck and sidled through the door, hefting a violin case. The stranger stared after her, lost in thought. He snapped out of it, blew his nose on a paper towel, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and reached into the back of the Rover for some fixings and a worn and dented frying pan. Bannock would be hungry.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 01:46 PM

The cool drink of water made the doorway glow with warmth, in sharp contrast to the dark shadow Dundee had cast when he filled it. She smiled a brilliant smile and looked over her shoulder at the escapades of the Mounty and the roaring giant outside. Her long red hair swung gracefully over pearl-like ears, and her blue eyes sparkled with humor.

"Hi, youall!!", she said brightly. "I escaped!!" She moved her long and shapely bluejeaned legs into the room and the rest of her flowed in after. She opened up a violin case, took out a fiddle, and pushed the case under a chair with a suede-capped toe. Her bright red blouse and her solar smile twinkled in the afternoon light, and she began warming up on Soldier's Joy.

A

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 01:24 AM

That is a very good one A! LOL

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 01:13 AM

(Now is the winter of his discontent
Made brilliant to simmer, by this ass of York...)

A

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 01:01 AM

Malcolm Dundee was staggering around outside the cabin with half a bottle of Bushmill's in his fist, looking for Josephine. He called her name several times..."Josey stop feckin around, ye hot-blooded vixen! I need ye to help me find me feckin pants!" At this point, Dundee tripped over a sapling and fell head-over-heels, but not spilling a drop. As he rotated in a drunken somersault, his extended right arm miraculously held the bottle in a continuous upright position, as if years of training had put it on a kind of autopilot where booze was concerned.

Dundee came to rest on his massive behind, took a long pull on the whiskey, said "arright! Who feckin pushed me!" Then "Jaysus on a Biscuit its feckin freezin out here!" He stood up, rocking back and forth on tree-trunk legs, but tree trunks that bent and swayed in an alcoholic cyclone. He gazed out at the lake, reflecting an endless glory of stars, and said "feckin lovely." He toasted the lake and the stars, took another enormous swallow, shivered, and was reminded of a poem. He stood in a pose of declamation, weight on his back leg, right leg extended and turned toes out, left arm bent with palm out behind his muddy posterior, right hand held as if tucked into a velvet vest. Quickly, he pulled a long twig out of his beard which he had gathered in his tumble, casting it aside, then resuming the pose. He took a deep breath, then farted as if a cannon had discharged in the frost night. Then he began...

"There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee."

He took another drink and swished it around thoughtfully, gulped it while staring at the ground, said "Shit!...was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee..." Then held out the bottle as if signalling the next line to jump on in. Finally he shouted "Got her, god dammit!!"

"Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows." Perplexed again, Dundee mumbled, drank, mumbled again, and finally, like a Ponderosa Pine with a wedge lopped out of the trunk, went over into a cluster of choke cherry bushes.

From the shadows, a palely luminous figure emerged to stand looming over his gigantic prey. Quickly he knelt down and snapped a pair of extra-large handcuffs on the snoring Dundee, speaking loudly into the big man's ear. "In the name of the people of Canada, I place you under arrest for crimes committed in that country which include but are not limited to burglary, grand larceny, inspiring a riot, contempt of court, car theft, large animal theft, despoiling a woodland, public fornication, public urination, lechery, loitering, and poaching. You may remain silent until you have appointed counsel." York stood and caught his breath, then contemplated his next move. Suddenly, Dundee gave a great abbreviated snort and sat up, saying "FECK! Got her!"

"He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

As Dundee finished the line, he suddenly raised both hairy, cuffed wrists, then glanced with a look of animal malice at a small shiny spot that was the ass of York as he disappeared around the cabin corner.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Janie
Date: 06 Mar 07 - 11:43 PM

Let;s all get naked and jump into a pile....Josephine-Josey-sang drunkenly to herself. She was having a grand old time. Hadn't been drunk in years. It messed with her music and her head, but Dundee had talked her into matching shots of whiskey with him....Lessee, there was sumpin she wanted to tell him...what was it? She looked around the room and her eyes landed on York.

"Oh yeh, gotta warn Dundee about York."

As she tried to get up onto her feet, the room suddenly quieted. She glanced over at York, and saw him staring, transfixed, at the door. Then she realized the same was true of every man in the room as they stared in the direction of the swinging doors that led to the bright sunlight outside the bar. There stood this long, cold drink of water, backlit by the afternoon sun....

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Georgiansilver
Date: 06 Mar 07 - 03:52 PM

HEY AMOS!!! Love the reference to the "Whiter Shade of Pale"....Procul Harum...brings back such memories for me.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 06 Mar 07 - 01:24 PM

The stranger, with his fourth button still connected, sidled around the edge of the chaos in the great shaking music room, to where the redface incognito bagpipe player was trying hard to make his identities cooperate with each other in the face of his discovery of the huge, much-wanted Dundee, who was still prancing loudly at the other end of the hall and kicking broken chairs with great abandon.

The stranger stood facing the chaotic abandon of the larking folkies, and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "York!" he whispered urgently.

"York!".

The pipes player looked around nervously. "What d'ye want?", he muttered in a guttural whisper.

"Be careful with Dundee. Don't do anything until you meet a particular redhead. She'll have a password."

"What password? What redhead?"

"You'll know her by the password."

"What password, eh?"

"The password is Madison. Blake Madison."

Underneath his sturdy Canadian pallor, Curtis York turned a whiter shade of pale.

His ears reddened, and he gulped involuntarily. He turned with another question, but the stranger, with Bannock the lab close on his heels, was gone, leaving the screen door swinging behind him as he made for the rusty Land Rover high on the hill.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 06 Mar 07 - 01:22 PM

(LOL...welcome back to the stories, Jendarlin'!!)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: JenEllen
Date: 06 Mar 07 - 01:11 PM

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. It was kind of a bombshell, ya know? I really feel like going postal with a stapler at this point…"

"Okay, better question: What would you like to do?"

"Go postal with a stapler."

"Har dee har har." his voice over the phone was soft and reassuring in her ear. "I mean that taking all of your options into consideration, what's the plan, Stan?"

"Well, if I don't take the vacation time before my hiring anniversary, I lose all of it. That sucks royally, but with the new management jackals, it's unavoidable. However there is no way I can enjoy a vacation when I've got so much on my plate. The new program, the meeting with the governor, the track team…"

"Shut up and take your vacation." he interrupted.

"Easy for you to say. When was the last time you had a job?"

"I've punched a time-clock or two in my day…"

"Yeah, just the fact that you use the phrase "punched a time-clock" says it's been a while Mister Madison."

"Don't be such a bitch. It's really not as attractive as you think. Tell you what, why don't you use the rest of your workday today to go online, download yourself some new music, and when you get home take the dog for a nice long walk."

"That sounds nice."

"Yup. And with any luck you'll find something dark and mysterious to occupy your time."

"Thanks, Blake. You're a lifesaver."

"No problem, doll. You're a tootsie-pop."

She hung up the phone and peeked over the cubicle walls. Everyone was either gone or busily working. She turned on her computer and found a PM saying "Come Play". She chuckled to herself and began to read. It was early in the day, too early to escape for good, but anyone who saw her for the rest of the afternoon noticed a particular gleam in her eye. One that said plainly "Underneath my clothes, I am completely naked."

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Georgiansilver
Date: 06 Mar 07 - 02:59 AM

To carry on:-
.........engage her in deeper conversation, he spotted that third eye and broke into a cold sweat. 'This is no ordinary woman' he thought to himself, 'this is some freak of nature', as he took one more look at her beautifully rounded breasts and once more looked up and down her body. He so delighted in her body shape that the third eye soon lost its apparent importance. He was now so hooked by his fleshly longings that his rose coloured spectacles cancelled out any imperfection (or as some women would have it....the brain in his trousers took over from the one in his head).
"I have not seen you here before" said Roderick, a statement made in such a way that it demanded an answer from her as though it were a question. "I have not been here long" she replied. "Where do you live dear, do you live in this area or just come here to work"?
"I don't actually live here, I come from afar" she said.
Immediately his enthusiasm waned as he imagined her being there for only one day before returning to some city many miles away and tentatively out of reach. Little did he know that when she said 'afar' she was meaning her own planet.
He desired her body with such fire that he knew he had to bravely ask her the question.
"Are you one of those 'Catters'"? she asked. He gave a negative reply and asked what a 'Catter' is. "A Catter is a Folkie who frequents the Mudcat cafe" she informed him. "Usually a musically minded person who can be full of BS at times, someone who uses a false name generally and may write educatively at times too".
"Mudcat Cafe, I suppose that cafe is in the place you come from" he said, again a statement which demanded an answer.
"No she said it is sure not where I come from but it might as well be"

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 05 Mar 07 - 10:44 PM

LindyLou listened intently to the raucous music coming from the building in front of her. She parked her bike, scanned the inside with her third eye and saw a bunch of nearly to totally naked people cavorting around. Some were singing at the top of their air bellows and others were picking, strumming, and sawing away on various melodic devices. She allowed herself a small smile. As one fellow swept by with a woman in his arms, she felt a quick jolt in her love region...just a fleeting glimpse and he looked like her lost love, but it could not be for she had buried his left-behind shell herself. Giving a gentle sigh, she strode towards the door and pushed it open.

They all looked at her at once. There she was tall, with legs that didn't quit, purple hair, slanted cat's eyes, full ruby lips, and a figure worthy of the prow of the best pirate ship ever. Shall we say she was "buxom?" Yes, that's it and the eyes of every man in the place seemed glued to her bosom, once they gave her a long full-body scan. Using her third eye, she scanned them all. Reminding herself to talk to Central about name-picking for next time, she really didn't think she looked like a "LindyLou," she laughed out loud and said, "Howdy Gents and Ladies, this must be the Mudcat Gathering, right?" Her voice had a sharpish edge to it, with a bell-like quality, almost as if they were made of glass with some shards missing. It didn't really grate, but it did have an odd effect on one's nerves. She went on, "It's LindyLou, right here in the 3D and I cannot wait to hear you all!" With that, she walked over to the bartender and ordered a Salty Dog, then turned to view the company.

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: katlaughing
Date: 05 Mar 07 - 12:21 AM

(I'll try to get Lindy-Lou in here, soon. GREAT lead-in, Janie!!)

Subject: RE: BS: Once a Mudcat, always a ? (Story thread)
From: Amos
Date: 04 Mar 07 - 11:41 PM

(Wow, what a grand serpentine!! Well done!!)

A