An Unexpected Party

"hey, danny! what're we having tonight?" cardigan greeted his buddy behind the bar as he entered the Pub.

"leek, potato, and kielbasa soup."

"you're going to make somebody a good husband one day," cardigan grinned as he came forward to take his beer.

"it's for marian. today is her birthday, and she likes potato soup."

"happy birthday, marian!" cardigan walked over to the table, holding back a laugh as marian sits there with an indignant look on her face, wearing a large black revolutionary war tri-corner hat while Mysterious Lurker snaps pictures.

"why do i have to wear this ridiculous hat? i look like ben franklin's secretary!"

"i take exception to that, young lady," mr. franklin said as he walked into the Pub. "as i'm sure my secretary would. he is a severe young man with no sense of humor whatsoever."

"mr. franklin! what are you doing here?" taylor rose, tripping over his stool to offer it to the country's first Postmaster General.

"i understand that it is this delightful young lady's birthday, so i brought her a present." mr. franklin handed her a small box.

"oh! thank you, sir!" marian opened the box excitedly and then looked at mr. franklin quizzicly. "what is it?"

"i call it a 'navel ring.' it's a new invention of mine. see, if we pierce your belly button with a hot, sterile needle, then insert the post of this ring through the hole and attach this stub to the end, you will have quite a charming accessory," answered mr. franklin, looking quite pleased with himself.

"now cut that out!" the judge stormed into the pub, eyes flashing darkly. "benjamin franklin did not invent belly button jewelry! you have to stop mucking around with our nation's history like this!" he turned toward marian. "happy birthday!"

a startled marian took the proferred package and said, "thank you, your honor," but the judge was already walking out the door. she shrugged, opened the package, and gasped. "it's a hundred dollar bill!" she held it up to show them. mr. franklin took it from her. "i believe that belongs to me, young lady. it has my picture on it. he must have thought it was my birthday."

marian stomped her foot. "every hundred dollar bill has your picture on it, sir. he gave it to me!" she snatched it back from him.

"touchy little filly, isn't she?" mr. franklin muttered to sierra.

danny brought cardigan's soup over, glancing as he hears the door of the pub open. "oh, no."

dat rhaymes, AKA the black darter, limped in. "happy birthday, marian."

Mysterious Lurker noticed his black eye. "what happened, darter? run into a bad guy with 16-foot long arms?"

rhaymes ignored her, offering a card to marian. "this is for you," he annouced proudly.

marian read the card: "This Card Entitles The Bearer To A Free Rescue From The Black Darter. No Expiration Date." she looked back at him, unsure how seriously to take this. "uh, thank you, dat."

"what, you normally charge a fee to the people you rescue?" cardigan asked.

"what if they can't afford your fee?" taylor inquired. "do you let the bad guy go ahead and mug them?"

"maybe i can start a Rescue Insurance company where people pay a premium every month to help cover the cost of a rescue should they ever need one," sierra pondered. "i could make a fortune!"

"maybe i could be one of those lawyers who advertise on TV," the Lurker mused. "have you been injured in a botched rescue? call Mysterious Lurker. let's scoff about it."

the darter turned on his heel and walked briskly out the door.

"happy birthday, miss." mr. spock walked over, holding out a rectangular package.

"thank you, spock." marian ripped off the paper to reveal a Giant Book of Sudoku. "i love it!" she starts riffling the pages, frowning. "er, they've all been filled in."

"it seemed illogical to give you incomplete puzzles."

at that moment, the sound of a guitar strumming a waltz tune drew their attention to the back of the pub.

happy birthday, dear marian
you lovely bulgarian
may the joy this day brings
to include navel rings
prove not to be too wearying...

marian made a face of mild annoyance. "'i'm not bulgarian, tucker."

happy birthday, dear columnist
i heard it straight from your publicist
though you're forty years old
your heart is made of pure gold
you don't need a cardiologist...

marian made a face of major annoyance. "i'm not forty years old!"

happy birthday, potato girl
though my gift ain't a shiny pearl
you will live on in song
after we're all long gone
'till the end of this big ol' world

"don't call me potato girl!"

Of Cats & Donkeys

"greetings, danny boy! what's for supper?" cardigan hollered as he entered the Pub.

"pad see ew," answered blake as he poured his friend a beer.

"pad...what?"

"don't worry about it. you'll like it." blake handed him a beer and turned back to prepare the dish.

"it's great, gavin." sierra was waving him over with her chopsticks.

"i have no doubt. what's up with y'all tonight?"

"we're planning a girl's trip--just the three of us," marian exclaimed, indicating herself, sierra, and Mysterious Lurker as the "three."

"sounds like trouble," cardigan replied. "where are you going?"

"we haven't decided yet," the Lurker said. "i want to go to santa fe."

"i want to go to the bahamas," marian stated, "or some other place with a nice beach."

"where do you want to go, charles?"

"new york," sierra replied.

marian rolled her eyes. "you go to new york all the time. it's winter. we need to go someplace warm."

"besides, they put ketchup on their hot dogs there," the Lurker stated with distaste, eliciting sympathy shudders from cardigan and taylor.

"i thought it was 'catsup,'" blake noted, bringing a steaming bowl of pad see ew over to cardigan.

"'catsup' sounds gross," marian made a face.

"either way, it's actually derived from cantonese 'ke-chap' meaning 'eggplant sap.'" sierra explained, stealing a piece of pork from cardigan's bowl.

"i think i'd rather have cat soup," taylor observed.

"that's a different cantonese word," sierra explained. "it's--"

"no talk about cat soup in my pub!" blake declared.

"you brought it up," sierra murmured.

cardigan turned to the Lurker. "why do you want to go to santa fe, uh...say, what is your name, anyway? we can't just keeping calling you 'the Lurker.'"

blake stopped walking toward the bar and turned around, interested in hearing the answer.

"i don't know," the Lurker mused. "i kind of like being Mysterious Lurker." she looked over toward blake. "don't you think it suits me, danny?"

blake muttered under his breath and stormed off behind the bar and began wiping the counter and other barkeeperly things like that.

the Lurker smiled and turned back toward cardigan. "the food, the jewelry, the architecture, the jewelry, the history, the jewelry....you know."

"and why do you want to go to new york, charles?"

"i know where the good chocolate is," she replied.

"so you need a place with a beach, jewelry, and good chocolate?" cardigan grinned. "i've know the perfect destination: cozumel."

"you know a place with good chocolate in cozumel?" sierra asked, surprised.

cardigan nodded. "yep. there's a place called Mr. Sanchos Beach Club that has a dessert called 'chocolate donkey pie.'"

"hey! no talk about donkey pie in my pub!" blake hollered.

No-Knead Deep Dish Pizza

another recipe from the KAF Baker's Companion. it's easy, no kneading, can be done in one day and, according to the book, "is a favorite for kids." well, it was easy enough, but....man, did it create a thick crust. it was okay, but the kids weren't thrilled with it. since i'm not a big fan of deep-dish pizzas anyway, i doubt i'll be repeating this one again. the KAF book already has two strikes against it.

Vermont Maple-Oatmeal Bread

i opened up my King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion cookbook early this afternoon and decided to look for something to bake in there since i haven't used it before. i settled on the vermont maple-oatmeal bread. i didn't read the ingredients very closely, but when i did i had already started making it. it's odd--it called for maple sugar (or brown sugar) and maple extract. i had assumed it called for maple syrup, which is what i had. oh well, i made it my way. it's fine--a good toasting bread, or maybe a peanut butter sandwich, but...nothing special. there's too many other breads to make for me to repeat this one, i think.

The Waitress & The Waiter

"hey, danny boy! what're we eating tonight?" cardigan hung up his coat by the door as he entered the Pub.

"corn dogs." danny blake was already pouring a beer for his best customer.

"have i told you lately that i love you?" cardigan picked up his beer. "how come nobody has married you yet?"

blake shrugged. "i'm too high-maintenance."

cardigan walked over to join the regulars at the table. "what's up, guys & dolls?"

"marian's choosing a new question to answer for her column," sierra replied.

"how about this one?" marian began to read out loud:

dear marian,

i work as a waitress in a busy restaurant. one of the waiters here is always telling the customers lies and outrageous stories. he'll tell one table his name is "giovanni" and tell another table that his name is "leroy." he claims to be a bullrider, or an associate professor, or a former soldier who caught a bullet in iraq, or other outright lies like that. i admit he does his share of the work around here, but i don't think it's right to tell lies. what do you think?

signed,

the truthful waitress

"he sounds fun," Mysterious Lurker noted, twirling her dirty blonde hair in her fingers. "danny, why don't you hire him to work here?"

blake walked up to deliver a platter of corn dogs and a squeeze bottle of mustard. "yeah, he sounds like your kind of person, all right." he blinked as the raven-haired Lurker bit into a corn dog, then shook his head. "besides, i have all the help i need around here," he added, jerking his head in the direction of a tall man sitting at the end of the bar, with short black hair and pointed ears.

"who is that?" cardigan asked. "and what happened to rachel?."

"she walked out, saying burkie never did develop her character since he introduced her back in chapter 3. so i hired mr. spock."

"mr. spock?" cardigan was startled. "but he's a fictional character! he's not real."

"neither are you, mr. cardigan," spock interrupted. "therefore, it is only logical that i can exist wherever you exist."

"what's wrong, sierra?" taylor asked, seeing that her face was flushed.

marian snickered. "she used to have a crush on spock."

caridgan looked at her in surprise. "really? i would've pegged you for a captain picard groupie."

"no, that's me," said the Lurker dreamily. "he had the cutest bald head."

"i liked will crusher," said marian.

"he's a devoted Geocacher, you know," taylor pointed out. "well, the actor that plays him is."

marian looked at him. "why do you know that, taylor?"

"well, i don't, but burkie does and he wanted me to point it out. burkie likes geocaching."

"why would spock take a job in a pub?" cardigan asked. "that doesn't sound logical to me."

"because i needed a job," spock replied. "there is no series and no movies that include me. i even got kicked off the priceline.com commercials."

"well, what do you think of marian's letter? how would you answer it?" the Lurker wanted to know.

"there is nothing for the man to gain by telling those lies; he is only causing confusion. logic would dictate that he stick to the truth."

"logic would also dictate that you do more than just sit there if you work here," blake grumbled. "i'm sure i can have burkie develop rachel's character and replace you."

spock nodded and placed an apron over his head and reached around to tie the straps around his back. "i'll just go wash some dishes, then."

cardigan looked at sierra, who was still blushing. "come on, charles, you can't still have a crush on him, can you? i mean, those ears are really pointed!"

"much like an elf's would be," marian said musingly. "taylor, can you make your ears pointed?"

"i could, but then sierra might have a crush on me, too," taylor grinned, showing his fangs.

"i never had a crush on mr. spock!" she declared, unconvincingly. "can we get back to marian's letter?"

"i think she should take care of her own customers and let him take care of his," marian declared. "his customers don't seem to mind his creativity. beside, she shouldn't be so melodramatic!"

Soft White Dinner Rolls

since i was making a roast and potatoes today (the, uh, weather was far too treacherous for me to drive to work today), i thought some nice, soft dinner rolls would go splendid with them. the recipe was from reinhart's BBA--his basic white bread variation #1. the recipe makes two loaves or 18 dinner rolls, so i cut the recipe in half so i'd only make what i needed for tonight. it made 10 large-size dinner rolls. after i formed the 10 rolls, i cut them in half, then sealed them back together on the bottom and sides to make a natural seam. these came out big, fluffy, soft, and tasty. definitely worth doing again.

Hey y'all, prepare yourselves!

"howdy, danny boy. what're we eating tonight?" cardigan called out as he entered the pub.

"king ranch casserole," answered danny as he pulled a beer for his best customer.

"bring it on!" cardigan crowed as he grabbed his beer and turned toward his regular table.

"in it to win it!" the Lurker pumped her fist into the air, clutching a black-and-gold pompom in her hand.

cardigan stopped short. "uh, why are you wearing a cheerleader outfit?"

"and when did you get here?!" blake demanded, staring at the Lurker.

"oh, as soon as i popped in," she replied evasively, pulling a random gold streamer off of her navy blue Superman t-shirt.

"come sit down, gavin. sierra was about to tell us about her date last night." marian waved him over impatiently.

"oh, really? who's the latest victim, charles?" cardigan grinned, already looking forward to the story.

sierra shuddered. "i was. no way he suffered as much as i did."

marian explained. "her mother set her up!"

"set me up is right. i was meeting her for dinner last night and she arrived with the son of a friend of hers whom she 'just happened to run into.' then, then she only orders soup and after it arrived, decided she didn't feel good and left me there with him."

"i love your mom," the Lurker said in a sing-song manner. "she's so cool."

"i like the sound of that," tucker interrupted, strumming his guitar.

i love your mama
your mama's so cool
she gives me lemonade
by your backyard pool
she even wipes my chin
if i start to drool
i love your mama
your mama's so cool...

everyone stares at him, dumbfounded. "what?"

"tucker, you know i love you, but please never finish that song and never, ever sing it again," the Lurker pleaded with him. "i don't want to be known for inspiring the worst song ever written."

"i will throw you out of here bodily if you ever sing it again," said blake, walking over with cardigan's casserole.

"and i'll have the black darter shoot you with his blow gun," marian threatened.

"and i'll bite your neck," taylor added, showing off his fangs.

"and i'll have my mother find you a girlfriend," sierra threw in.

"so tell us about this guy, charles," cardigan said, savoring his casserole.

"he's about this tall," sierra extended her hand level with the table tabletop. "and about this big around," she added, her arms encircling the table, "and has a squeaky voice."

"aw, he sounds cute!" marian giggled.

"what's he do for a living?" taylor asked.

"he invented a special type of rubberband that can last up to three times as long as regular rubberbands before disintegrating. he's a rubberband man."

this was greeted by uproarous laughter and clapping around the table.

"guaranteed to blow your mind!" shouted out the Lurker.

"so much rhythm, grace, and debonair from one man, lord!" cardigan sang.

"doo-doo doo doo doo doo doo doo-doo!" marian and taylor sang in unison.

sierra was puzzled. "what are y'all doing?"

cardigan stared at her. "you're kidding. you don't know the song, "rubberband man" by The Spinners? you really need to take burkie's American Popular Culture class."

"no! i am not taking burkie's class. and i'm sure i'm not the only one who has never heard of this song."

"you've got to check out this video," the Lurker insisted. "the dancing, the outfits, even the clothes of the woman they pull from the audience. it's fantastic!"

"oh!" sierra was taken aback by the shade of blue that dominated the '70s. "those outfits are special. what's up with the silver diamonds? oh! i thought only elton john wore glasses like that. oh!"

tucker whispered over to the Lurker. "watch her now, it'll happen."

sure enough, despite the comments and laughter emanating from sierra, she was moving her shoulders, staying in rhythm with the song. even their dancing with giant silver rubberbands at the end didn't stop her bopping. when it was over, she blinked. "that was actually pretty good!"

the Lurker nodded. "The Spinners were wicked awesome! you can't help but like that song."

"it's true," blake stated. "as ridiculous as it is, it's addicting."

"we played it in band," marian and taylor said at the same time, then looked at eached other and said, "jinx!"

"i wish i could write a song that good," tucker said wistfully. "hand me down my walkin' cane, hand me down my hat...."

"you will, tucker," the Lurker encouraged him. "you're really good. you're just having an off-night."

"you really think so?" tucker asked, eager for validation.

"of course! sierra, what was the occupation of the last guy you went out with before the rubberband man?"

"a plastic surgeon."

"hmmmm...." tucker strummed a few chords.

wash my face and scrub my hands
put on my mask and smock
hurry now, she's got big ears
she ain't got chickenpox
whoah, oh-oh!
big or small,
short or tall
i'll cut 'em down to size
nip and tuck
i'll fix 'em up
from their toes up to their eyes...

"definitely an off-night," the Lurker stated.

Rustic Spinach Feta Bread

this recipe is apparently from a book that i don't have called "ARTISAN BREAD IN FIVE MINUTES A DAY." the book has an interesting premise in that you spend 5 minutes mixing up a rather large amount of wet dough, let it rise for an hour, then stick it in the fridge for up to 7 days. whenever you want to bake bread, you'd take as much dough as you want to bake, shape it, let it sit and proof for another hour, then bake. so, the 5 minutes is a little misleading, but there's no kneading involved. i only mixed up half the recipe to see how i liked it, and i bake two loaves at once so i can bring one in to work tomorrow. i have to say, i like it. this would be a nice accompaniment to a soup or salad or egg dinner. or an antipasto platter with olives and salami. i may have to find this book and try out mid-week bread baking.

A History Lesson

"howdy, danny boy. what's on the menu tonight?" cardigan greeted his friend as he entered the pub.

"ants climbing a tree, per miss sierra's request."

"bring it on, danny. bring it on." he took the proferred beer and walked over to join the others. "what's going on--oh, hello." cardigan noticed the odd newcomer among the regular gang. "uh...i'm gavin cardigan."

the white-haired, elderly gentleman dressed in an old-fashioned black suit and white-laced shirt rose to shake his hand. "benjamin franklin, sir. it's a pleasure."

cardigan blinked, then nodded. "you're a pretty good actor. but what's the occassion?"

sierra spoke up. "he's not an actor. that really is benjamin franklin."

taylor nodded. "we were discussing american history. i said that benjamin franklin wanted the turkey as the symbol of america instead of the eagle, but marian didn't believe me. so, the Lurker conjured him to prove i'm right."

"i didn't conjure him," the Lurker corrected him. "i simply suggested that we ask him, and then he walked in."

blake delivered cardigan's food and a pair of bamboo chopsticks. "it's true. she didn't cast any spells or wiggle her ears or anything like that."

"wiggle my ears?" the Lurker casts bright blue eyes at blake, smiling. "you must have been watching me closely, danny. and besides, i can't wiggle my ears. i'm not an elf."

"i can," taylor noted, and wiggled his ears to demonstrate.

sierra giggled, and marian rolled her eyes.

"the truth is," mr. franklin broke in, "that i didn't actually want the turkey as the symbol."

cardigan slurped noodles into his mouth, then said, "but it's impossible for you to be here!"

"apparently, sir, you are mistaken, for here i am. dammit!" he was having difficulty with the chopsticks. "bring me a fork, barman! i can't use these blasted things."

"it's a blog," marian explained. "it's not real. we're not real. actually, he's the only real person here, even though he's dead."

"i am most certainly not dead, young lady!" mr. franklin declared. "though i might starve to death if somebody doesn't bring me a fork."

"i'll get it, mr. franklin," taylor said, promptly tripping over his stool and crashing to the floor.

ben franklin shook his head. "i may yet starve, it seems."

blake walked over with a fork. "here you go, mr. franklin."

"thank you, barman. yours remains the most constant of professions, it seems."

"mr. franklin, you were about to explain that i was right?" marian asked, after helping taylor back to his seat.

"not exatly, young lady. you see, i did suggest the turkey as a better emblem for our country than the cowardly, and ubiquitous, eagle. but that does not mean that i wanted the turkey, either."

"then what did you prefer, sir?" asked the Lurker.

"the beaver."

"the beaver?" cardigan was incredulous.

"that is correct, sir. clever little creatures, beavers. resourceful, inventive, productive."

"all right, that's enough! i've had enough of this!"

everybody turned as a rather determined man stormed into the pub. "where is burkie? he can't continue to distort history like this. it's not right."

sierra said, "he's not here, so we're in charge. and how do you know we're distorting history? maybe he really did feel that way."

"i can assure you that i did, sir." mr. franklin looked through his spectacles at the distraught newcomer. "who are you to judge me?"

the impetuous fellow did not relent. "as a matter of fact, i am a judge. judge st. bishop."

"that is a lot of responsibility, young man. a magistrate, a saint, and a member of the clergy. and now you have appointed yourself a guardian of history." mr. franklin placed some noodles into his mouth with the fork, chewing appreciatively. "you must be very busy. why don't you relax and have some of these excellent ants?"

the judge sniffed. "that does smell good. hey, can i have some ants over here, please?" he turned back to mr. franklin. "but i'm going to have to insist that you return to the past, sir. we can't just rewrite history like this. we have no proof that benjamin franklin would have wanted the beaver as the national emblem."

"you have no proof that i wouldn't have either, i'll wager. besides," he added thoughtfully, "i'm not sure i know how to go back."

"oh, don't worry about that, sir," marian explained. "as soon as this is posted, you'll go back to being dead."

"i am not dead, young lady! how many times must i tell you that?" mr franklin looked not unkindly at her. "if i were dead, then i would be here as a ghost--a shade of my corporeal self. be thankful that i'm not, so you do not have to witness the food traveling down my transluscent gullet."

"ewww," they murmured in unison.

"this is a quite tasty dish, and rather piquant. barman!" he called over to blake. "can you show me how to prepare this? i want to fix it for tommy jefferson. spicy foods give him the most spectacular indigestion."

"no! you can't take ants climbing a tree back to colonial america!" the judge insisted. "and you can't call him 'tommy.' nobody calls thomas jefferson 'tommy.'"

"i've called him worse, believe me. the man is a weasel!"

"perhaps the weasel should've been the national emblem," sierra suggested. "they're good for getting out of trouble."

"how about the squirrel?" said the Lurker. "they're as resourceful as beavers, and they don't need dental work."

"i vote for bats," taylor said. "they have sonar, they can fly, yet they're mammals."

"horses," cardigan offered. "everybody loves horses. they work hard, they're regal, and they make good monuments."

"stop it!" the judge was getting more and more agitated. "you're tainting him and he might go back and change history. you can't even imagine the consequences of changing the national emblem from the eagle to a horse!"

"i wonder how the corgi would perform as the national emblem?" mr. franklin mused. "you know, i tied a kite to the collar of my corgi and sent him out into a thunderstorm to help me discover electricity. it didn't work--i forgot to add the key--but i discovered instead that corgi fur can repel water."

"stop it! stop it!"

Pilgrim Bread

i really have been baking bread, but i haven't blogged about it lately because they were breads that i've done before. today i made a new one called pilgrim bread. i remembered that when my mom was baking a lot of bread back when i was in the 6th or 7th grade, my favorite was pilgrim bread. i looked for a recipe on line and found this and decided to try it. it's quite unusual in that you soak cornmeal, rye flour, whole wheat flour, brown sugar, and salt in boiling water before adding the other ingredients. it made a very soft dough, and two large very soft loaves of very tasty bread. i don't know if it's the recipe my mom used to make, but it tastes as good as i remember. it's a keeper. hmmm, the picture isn't loading. i'll log off and back again. i hate computers...okay, got it to work.

Blame It On The Homesick Texan

"hey, danny." cardigan greeted the the owner of Poor Yorick's Pub as he hurried in from the blustery wind outside. "what're we eating tonight?"

"beanie wienies," blake replied.

"beanie wienies? that sounds surprisingly good."

"it is, trust me." blake handed him a bass ale.

"i always do, danny boy, and i'm still alive." cardigan took his beer over to join the regulars. "what's up, guys?"

sierra was munching on cotton candy. "we're bored."

taylor had beanie wienie stains on his Russell athletic hoodie. "there's nothing interesting going on."

cardigan noticed the Lurker simply milling around and turned to marian, who was making funny faces in a mirror. "do we have to have anything interesting going on? can't we just enjoy a nice quiet evening of drinking a beer and eating beanie wienies?"

blake walked up to deliver cardigan's beanie wienies. "no, we can't. we're a blog. people expect something interesting, or at least mildly amusing. we can't just standing around saying 'beanie wienies' all night."

marian snickered. "well, that at least is mildly amusing." she turned to taylor. "how were the beanie wienies, taylor?"

taylor opened his mouth to show the rounded end of a hotdog stuck onto each fang. "fangtastic."

cardigan rolled his eyes. "i see you two are getting along well."

marian shrugged. "meh. he's good for killing bugs."

"there are no bugs in my pub!" blake stated flatly.

"you know," the brown-haired Lurker piped in, "in bram stoker's 'Dracula,' the Count's little helper Renfield ate bugs."

"i am not eating bugs!" marian made a face.

"ooh, i like that one!" sierra complimented her. "did you just come up with it?"

"yes," marian replied happily. "i think it conveys a healthy balance of revulsion and defiance."

"i don't need a partner who eats bugs," taylor said, accidently knocking his fork to the floor.

"how about ants?" sierra suggested. "as in, ants climbing a tree?"

"yay, i'll eat that! can you make it, danny?" marian asked blake.

"i could," danny grumbled, bringing a new fork. "but it might be kind of messy for some," he noted, looking pointedly at taylor. he then walked over to the Lurker and handed her a cup of tea with lemon. "here you go. you look like you've had a rough day."

the Lurker looked at him gratefully, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. "thank you, danny. i had a little too much wine last night at karaoke."

blake walked back to the bar, his face as red as the Lurker's hair, muttering under his breath.

"make something interesting happen, cardigan," sierra demanded. "you're the man of action around here."

cardigan shook his head. "not until i've finished my beanie wienies."

marians giggled. "he said 'beanie wienies' again!"

"so did you," taylor pointed out.

at that moment, tucker walked into the pub carrying his guitar case. "hey, danny. what's on the menu today?"

"beanie wienies."

"beanie wienies?" tucker echoed in surprise.

"yeah, beanie wienies. want some?"

tucker shook his head. "not yet, man. i've gotta write a song about beanie wienies first."

"yay!" marian clapped her hands. the Lurker and taylor exchanged a high-five. cardigan and sierra, having both been the subject of a tucker song in the past, both grimaced.

beanie wienies, beanie wienies
i wish i had a plate-full of beanie wienies
everyone is dining on caviar and blinis
but i've got a hankerin' for beanie wienies...

"i'm never making this again," blake sighed regretfully.

Fangsgiving in February

"burkie!" marian waved at their handsome creator when he walked in.

"evening, ma'am," burkie tipped his hat and approached the bar. "whatcha got tonight, hoss?"

danny blake placed a pink cupcake in front of him. "an oh-so-coconutty cupcake."

burkie looked at up at blake, clearly annoyed. "this is a pub, not a tea party. why is it i read--actually, write--about all these delicious, savory recipes you make, yet when i come in, it's peanut butter & jelly sandwiches or coconut cupcakes?"

blake shrugged. "it's your fault. it was supposed to be guinness malt-wheaten bread. what happened there?"

"uh, yeah, about that....i forgot to add the sugar. and at half-a-cup, that's a lot of sugar to forget, so it didn't brown right, it didn't taste right, and it didn't quite cook all the way through. it went into the trash."

"good thing maddog saved your ass with these cupcakes then," blake retorted. "she dropped them off a short time ago."

"maddog, huh?" burkie picked it up with growing interest and bit into it, then quickly grabbed a second one on his way to the table to join the regulars. "how's it going, guys? enjoying the new format?"

"very much so," marian noted, "i have several ideas of how you can improve it, though." she started punching keys on her laptop. "i put them in a spreadsheet somewhere...."

"a spreadsheet?" cardigan was confused. "it's a blog, not a database."

"but i like to categorize my ideas," marian explained. "i have a column for existing character suggestions, new character suggestions, cases for gavin, dating partners for sierra--"

"wait a minute, i don't need any help getting dates," sierra objected, biting into burkie's as yet untouched second cupcake.

"well, let's talk about that," burkie broke in. "it's not unusual for a group of single adults to get together in a pub every night and hang out, especially in the fictional world. what is unusual is for none of them to be romantically involved with anybody, or at least going out on one disastrous date after another, especially in the fictional world."

"doesn't that make us stand out from the norm and, therefore, more interesting?" Mysterious Lurker asked, signaling blake for a beer.

"i'm not sure," burkie admitted. "i think we should experiment and see how it works out. who wants to volunteer to go first?"

"sierra," cardigan, marian, blake, and the Lurker said in unison.

sierra made a face. "no! why do you always gang up on me? pick on somebody else."

"hmmm...." burkie mused, then looked toward the door as a new character walked in.

"hullo," the newcomer greeted them, knocking over a barstool as he raised his arm to wave at them. "oh, sorry about that." the tall, dark-haired man picked up the stool, then reached over for the beer that blake had just poured for the Lurker, but accidently knocked it over. "oh, sorry about that."

the others sat back and watched in fascinated silence as the man finally worked his way over to them, sloshing the two beers he was carrying as he bumped into various chairs and tables before finally arriving with just over half-a-beer in each glass. he sat one down in front of the Lurker with an apologetic, "sorry about that." he took a seat and pushed his little round glasses back up on his nose, grinning.

burkie made the introductions. "marian, meet taylor young."

marian rolled her eyes. "you can't be serious!"

sierra and the Lurker didn't bother to suppress their laughter.

taylor looked around. "what's the matter?"

marian scrunched her face at him. "you seem a little clumsy."

"that's only in the fictional world. in the real world...well, i don't exist in the real world, but if i did, i'm sure i'd be dignified and debonair."

cardigan stuck his hand out. "i'm cardigan. welcome to the pub."

burkie looked at taylor. "isn't there something you want to show them, taylor?"

the newcomer blinked a couple of times, then said, "oh, yeah!" he opened his mouth to show two fangs slowly growing longer before their very eyes. "ouch!" he yelped as the fangs punctured his own bottom lip.

marian sniggered.

burkie sighed. "you'll have to work on that, taylor."

sierra and the Lurker had tears in their eyes from laughing so hard.

"this isn't fair!" marian stomped her foot. "sierra wanted to date a vampire, not me."

"well, i don't think he's a real vampire," burkie admitted, watching taylor dab at his lip with a napkin. "maybe he just has the uncanny ability to grow fangs at will, but he doesn't drink blood or turn other people into vampires or have immortality."

"he's certainly uncanny," cardigan commented.

"wait a minute--i'm not immortal?" taylor was disappointed. "can i at least turn into a bat?"

"no!" blake hollered from behind the bar. "no bat guano in the pub!"

"maybe he can turn into a black darter," sierra suggested.

"no, we already have one of those to make fun of," the Lurker said mischeviously. "perhaps he can turn into a squirrel."

"if i'm dating him, i'm wearing a cross around my neck," marian declared.

taylor shrugged. "i'm catholic. i doubt it will have any effect."

marian dug into her bag and pulled out a half-knitted scarf and wrapped it around her neck. "there."

"uh, i don't think that will work, either," sierra told her. "maybe you should borrow a leather collar from the white corgi."

"with beer in the barrel," added taylor, who put his fangs inside his glass and started slurping beer through them.

burkie nodded with a look of satisfaction. "my work here is done. goodnight!"

"burkie! wait!" marian wailed after him as he walked out.

Lurking & Smirking

cardigan walked into the pub, grinning. "what's on the menu, danny boy?"

"chorizo & potato burritos."

"i'll take two, and a guinness." he walked over to the bar to pick up his beer. "is the Lurker here?"

blake shook his head. "nope, haven't seen her."

"hi, gavin!" Mysterious Lurker waved to him from the table in the corner, where she was sitting with sierra and marian.

"when did you--oh, never mind." blake shook his head.

"bring her a beer, too. or whatever she wants." cardigan walked over and handed the Lurker a yellow rose.

"thank you, gavin. it matches my hair." the Lurker accepted the rose with a smile. "does this mean you found the mother?"

"yep. she's a landscaper, and has the contract for the city cemetaries," cardigan explained. "the first funeral home i checked knew who she was right away."

"you're awesome!" marian beamed at the Lurker.

"you're spooky awesome!" sierra agreed. "are you sure you're not a vampire?"

the Lurker puller her shirt collar to the side, revealing a tattoo of two bloody puncture wounds on her neck. "you are a vampire!" marian giggled.

"what is it?" blake asked as her placed the beer and burritos down. the Lurker turned her head to show blake. he looked at the yellow rose on her neck, "what do roses have to do with vampires?"

"who said anything about vampires?" sierra looked around innocently.

marian asked, "are mother and daughter going to get together?"

cardigan nodded, chewing on a burrito. "they're both a little apprehensive about it, but they're going to meet up tomorrow."

"that's great, gavin. i'm glad it worked it for them," the Lurker stated.

"thanks to you. keep those cards handy." cardigan clinked beer glasses with her.

"well, i have news of my own," sierra said. "i got a new job!"

"'grats!" cardigan clinked glasses with sierra. "what is it?"

"i'm a judge on a new celebrity dance show called Suds & Studs," she explained. "it pairs up soap opera stars with famous athletes, and we vote a different couple off each show."

cardigan laughed. "that's about the lamest gimmick i've ever heard of. what do you know about dancing, anyway?"

"that's how she got discovered!" marian reminded them. "dancing in a cage in a zz top video."

the Lurker nodded, "that's true. although, that wasn't much of a dance. she basically held onto the bars and squatted up and down every now and then."

"well, i don't really have to be a dancing expert to be a judge," sierra admitted. "i just have to say that they obviously worked hard and showed some mad skillz, and sympathize for the people who get voted off. i get to be the nice judge."

"who are the other judges?" marian asked.

"a russian ballet dancer i've never heard of named boris something-sky, who gets to be the jerk, and a broadway choreagrapher named billy monsoon. he'll be the funny one. it'll be aired on the network network."

"i've never heard of the network network," cardigan said.

"it's on cable cable," marian said helpfully.

"and satellite satellite," the Lurker added.

"it's best known for...well, i don't know what it's known for," sierra admitted. "but it pays."

"doo doo," theorized cardigan.

The Inevitable Appearance of a Superhero

"hey, danny boy! what's on the menu tonight?" cardigan walked into the pub, hanging his coat up at the door.

"tomato-ricotta tart," blake replied.

"smells good. set me up."

cardigan walked over to join sierra, marian, and a strange man dressed in a long, black leather coat, jeans with light brown leather chaps, a high-necked white-spandex top, and dark sunglasses under a spiky white crewcut. "um, hello."

"gavin, this is dat rhaymes. he does research for us at the paper." marian made the introductions.

"dat has decided to be a superhero," sierra explained with a wink. "but he needs help coming up with a name."

"he needs help all right," blake muttered as he dropped off a generous portion of the tart along with a bass ale. he paused, looking carefully around the pub, before heading back behind the bar.

"uh huh." cardigan sampled the tart, then gave blake a thumb's up across the room. "do you have any special powers?"

"a blowgun," rhaymes explained, holding up a slender, long black tube with a wide silver mouthpiece that extended several inches off either side, curling elegantly back slightly toward the middle.

"a blowgun? how far can you shoot that thing?"

"about 15 feet for accuracy," rhaymes answered.

"um, that's not very far." cardigan stated. "so, you have to find a bad guy doing something wrong, then run up to within 15 feet of him, then bring that thing up to your mouth and blow a dart at him?"

rhaymes look mildly defensive. "the agent is very fast-acting. it disorients them, so i can easily trip them with the hooks here when they try to run away," he explained, indicating the silver ends of the mouthpiece.

"i see. and what if they run toward you instead of away from you? with a knife or a gun?"

"then i can swing it to knock it out of their hand, then hit them on the head to knock them out," rhaymes replied casually. "obviously. also, i can have different darts that can make them sleepy, or sick, or temoporarily paralyze them. the possibilities are endless."

"you could be Blowhard," cardigan offered.

"how about The Huffer?" Mysterious Lurker suggested, waving at blake and holding her hand up with thumb and pinkie extended to indicated she wanted a beer. blake was facing the door and it took a moment for him to see her, which caused him to glower.

"i was thinking The Puffer," marian exclaimed.

"that sounds like a stoner, not a superhero," sierra mused. "how about The Black Darter?"

"hey, i like that!" rhaymes said excitedly. "as you know, the 'darter,' or 'snake bird,' has a long beak that it uses to spear its prey. it's able to go underwater to fish because its feathers aren't waterproof."

"unlike the furr on a corgi," sierra pointed out instructively.

"oh! you should get a waterproof partner called The White Corgi!" marian grinned.

"and what would a waterproof superhero do?" blake asked as he placed a beer in front of the Lurker. "shake liquid acid off himself onto a burgler?"

"grab his pants leg with his teeth to hold him in place long enough to get shot with a dart?" cardigan offered.

"he could fetch the darts that miss and bring them back," said the Lurker.

"maybe he could carry supplies in a little barrel on a collar around his neck like a st. bernard," marian giggled.

"i'm very amused by this," sierra noted, watching rhaymes storm off indignantly and trip over his blowgun.

The Page of Cups

cardigan walked into the pub and saw danny blake lowering a basket into the fryer behind the bar. "what'cha cooking, danny?"

"samosas," danny replied, not bothering to turn around. "go have a seat. i'll bring some over in a bit."

"what are you working on these days, cardigan?" sierra asked as he joined her and marian at the table.

cardigan grunted. "woman hired me to track down her birth mother. she was adopted 32 years ago."

"that sounds like an interesting case," sierra commented. "i never got stuff like that when i was in the trade."

"why does she want to find her?" marian asked.

"her adopted mother recently passed, and only told her she was adopted shortly before that, so i guess she's trying to fill a void," cardigan explained.

blake walked over and placed a bass ale in front of cardigan and replaced the empty plate of samosas with another full platter.

"these are sooooo good," Mysterious Lurker cooed as she munched on one.

blake frowned at the raven-tressed Lurker. "when did you get here?!"

she turned her green eyes on him and smiled. "shortly after i walked through the door. may i have a cup of tea?"

blake glared at her and walked back to fix her tea. she looked at cardigan and asked, "do you have any leads on the mother?"

cardigan bit into a samosa and muttered, "not much. i know her name was annie johnson back in 1976 and she lived in an apartment building that no longer exists. i haven't found anybody locally--dead or alive--by that name that fits her profile."

"what about the father?" marian asked.

"records from the adoption agency say she didn't know who the father was," cardigan stated.

"let me help," Mysterious Lurker offered, digging into her bag.

"how?" blake asked suspicously as he placed a mug of hot tea before the now brunette Lurker.

she pulled out a small cloth bag and shook a deck of tarot cards out into her hand. "i'll do a reading."

blake rolled his eyes.

sierra was intrigued. "you can tell us where she is?"

"i don't know," the Lurker replied. "but it's worth a try. now, let me concentrate." she closed her eyes and shuffled the oversized cards easily in her hands. after a bit she began to turn them over, one at a time, in a pyramid shape, capped off by the tenth and final card: The Page of Cups.

"well? what's it say?" marian leaned in to examine the cards. "i've never seen the cards laid out like this before."

"i came up with this spread," Mysterious Lurker explained. "i get better readings like this. now, there is only one major arcana card in this spread--The Sun, see?" she points to the card in the lower right corner.

"is that good or bad?" gavin was interested despite his misgivings.

"The Sun is almost always a positive card," the Lurker said, studying the card formation before her. "and most certainly so in this case. she's certainly alive, relatively healthy, and relatively happy, though i'd say there is a certain melancholy associated with her as well. perhaps the daughter she gave up."

"oh, that certainly narrows it down. cardigan'll find her in no time now," blake scoffed.

the Lurker's grey eyes stared daggers at blake. "i'm not finished yet, danny." she turned her attention back to the cards, touching one here and there. "i'd say she's still fairly close to this area. there is something holding her here. she's talented, but uses her talents to help others gain the spotlight, to help them look good while she remains behind the scenes."

"like a make-up artist or hairdresser?" sierra suggested.

"a copy editor?" marian guessed.

"a mortician," cardigan said thoughtfully.

"those would all fit well enough i suppose," the Lurker looked at cardigan curiously. "why did you think of a mortician, gavin?"

"i don't know," he shifted uncomfortably. "there's something about these cards. it's more than sadness...there's an acceptance, too. the way there is at a funeral."

the Lurker nodded. "you've got a good sense for this, gavin. that's exactly what i felt, too."

"maybe gavin's a psychic!" marian grinned.

"maybe he's a vampire!" sierra said, amused.

"maybe he's full of shit," blake muttered.

The Ballad of Gavin Cardigan

"hey, danny boy! what's on the menu today?" cardigan seemed in a good mood as he walked into Poor Yorick's Pub.

"vietnamese grilled pork sandwiches," blake replied, already pulling a guinness for his best customer.

cardigan took his beer with a grateful sigh. "i'll take it, thanks" he said as he walked over to join sierra and marian.

"hi, gavin," marian greeted him.

"gavin?"

cardigan turned toward the corner where the raspy voice had uttered his name, spying a bedraggled young man in a denim jacket holding a guitar. "do i know you?"

the young man shook his head, "naw, man. i just like the sound of your name, and i've never heard it in a song before. may i use it?"

blake walked up, delivering the sandwich. "this is tucker. i let him play here sometimes."

"he's very talented," Mysterious Lurker offered.

blake stared at her. "when did you get here?"

"oh, i've been here ever since i walked in. can i have a ginger ale?"

blake muttered under his breath as he walked off.

tucker was strumming and trying out some lyrics:

she looked him up and down and said, "gavin,
come sit down and tell me what you're havin'.
he said, "i can only stay a bit
'cause pretty soon i have to get
going to my mississippi home..."

sierra looked at cardigan in surprise. "you never told me you were from mississippi!"

"i'm not," gavin said, annoyed. "he's just making stuff up."

"why mississippi, tucker?" marian asked.

the shaggy black-haired singer shrugged. "arkansas doesn't fit the meter."

"i'm not from arkansas, either," cardigan stated. "why don't you write a song about sierra, instead? she's got a musical name."

she buttoned up her shirt and whispered, "gavin,
what's the point of this conversation that we're havin'?"
he said, "you know i'd love to stay,
but you'd regret it every day
so i'll head for my mississippi home..."

marian looked over at sierra. "why would you regret it if he stayed? i don't understand."

"it's not me!" sierra sputtered.

"it's not me, either!" cardigan bit into his sandwich in irritation, then relaxed as the savory grilled pork brought him back to a happy place.

"stop interrupting," Mysterious Lurker admonished them. "you're disrupting the creative synergy here." her blue eyes sparkled as she accepted a ginger ale from blake.

tucker continued:

the preacher closed the good book and said, "gavin,
leave behind the trouble you've been havin'.
ask god to forgive you, son,
forget about that smokin' gun,
he'll take you to your mississippi home...."

marian was aghast. "gavin! what'd you do?"

sierra was impressed. "cardigan! what'd you do?"

Mysterious Lurker turned her brown eyes on him. "do you think you'll go to heaven or hell?"

cardigan muttered, "either's gotta be better than here."

the devil turned the heat up and said, "gavin,
it's payday for the fun that you've been havin'.
he said, "devil, you can't reach me here,
i can't be caught, i have no fear,
i'm safe now in my mississippi home..."

Mysterious Lurker clapped her hands and shouted, "encore!"

tucker winked and switched to a minor chord:

sierra was a hillbilly gal...

"oh no," sierra groaned.

Lonesome, Ornery, and Mean

gavin cardigan strode into Poor Yorick's Pub, shaking off the cold. "what's on the menu today, danny boy?"

"pinto beans and cornbread."

"it's not that sweet cornbread crap, is it?" cardigan started cracking his knuckles menacingly.

"nah, it's from a cool texas lady living in new york. not one iota of sugar in it." blake looked offended. "you know me better than that, cardigan."

"bring it on, then." he took the bass ale danny had poured for him and went over to join sierra and marian at the table. "what are you two up to?"

sierra said, "marian got an interesting question today."

marian read from her laptop:

Dear Marian,

My coworkers think it is their mission in life to set me up with somebody. since when is it a crime to single? it's bad enough i have to put up with this from my mother and friends, but why should my coworkers care? my work isn't suffering because i'm single. when i say i'm not interested in somebody they've picked out, they see it as a challenge and try even harder. why can't they just leave me alone?

Signed,
Lonesome, Ornery, and Mean

cardigan looked interested. "did she include a picture?"

marian replied, "no, but she sounds cute."

"how do you know it's a woman?" sierra asked. "what woman refers to herself as 'lonesome, ornery, and mean'? that doesn't sound cute to me."

"guys don't normally care if people try to set them up," cardigan replied.

"unless they're gay," blake nodded as he delivered the beans and cornbread. "one of my customers said that after he came out at work, his coworkers were always trying to set him up with their son's piano tuner or something. he says it's their way of showing support."

"no, he doesn't sound gay to me," Mysterious Lurker commented.

blake turned to look at the redheaded newcomer. "hello. when did you turn up?"

"i've been here all along," she explained. "except when i wasn't. can i have a beer?"

"sure."

"well, it doesn't matter if it's a man or a woman, or gay or not," sierra noted. "it's still none of their business and she should tell them so."

"i disagree," marian stated. "especially if it's a woman."

"and especially if she's cute," cardigan added.

"here you go, ma'am," blake handed the beer to the blonde Mysterious Lurker, blinked, and asked, "wait a minute...wasn't your hair red a minute ago?"

she smiled demurely and sipped her beer without comment. blake shook his head and said, "why is it different if it's a woman?"

"because there's a man shortage," marian replied. "it's too hard to find a good man without help. she should be thankful that they've taken an interest in her and have offered to help."

"then i would think it makes more sense that this is a guy, because his coworkers are probably trying to set up their single female friends with an eligible male," sierra theorized.

"so, if it's a guy, he's better off letting them set him up in case he gets lucky, and if it's a woman, she's better off letting them set her up because there's a man shortage, is that it?" cardigan summed up.

"he or she doesn't want any help finding a mate," sierra objected. "he or she wants help telling them to stop setting him or her up. trust me, i know what it's like."

marian sniggered. "i remember that picture in the 'Nosy Enquirer' of you and enrique iglesias."

cadigan grinned. "and that time they said you were seen with tony danza."

"and oprah," Mysterious Lurker added.

"can we get back to mr. lonesome?" sierra pleaded, her face turning as red as Mysterious Lurker's hair was at one time.

"i'm going to tell her to let them have their fun," marian declared. "it's good for office morale and it's not doing her any harm. and besides, she shouldn't be so melodramatic!"

Chapterless

"burkie!" marian looked up from her laptop and waved at the latest customer to walk into Poor Yorick's Pub.

burkie tipped his hat and muttered, "ma'am," on his way to the bar. "hey, danny. i'll take a guinness. what's on the menu today?"

"peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," blake replied as he poured the draught.

burkie rolled his eyes. "you're kidding. you actually found a recipe for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on epicurious? hell, i think even sierra could make that without a recipe."

blake shrugged. "this is your blog, big guy, not mine. you wanted peanut butter and jelly today."

"but that's because i was sick. i'm having a guinness now, and i don't want peanut butter and jelly with it."

"don't knock it 'till you try it. it's that or nothing."

"fine, fine, i'll take it. but at least put it on wheat instead of white."

"you got it, boss." blake turned around to make the sandwich and burkie walked over to the assembled usual suspects. "what's up, guys?"

cardigan retorted, "you tell us, hotshot. you're holding the strings." he put his hands up and made them move around jerkily.

"i understand how you feel, but i think we made some good decisions in Chapter 11. you guys can be your own person much more easily now that i'm not putting you in contrived situations with no forethought."

sierra broke in. "but what about my dog? and livermore?"

"i saw your grandfather today, sierra, and he's fine. he said to tell you hi." burkie bit into his sandwich. "as for livermore, cardigan will have to fill us in."

cardigan answered, "the police tell me that the bullet that killed livermore is a match to one that was used in a drug-related murder in miami several months ago. so it looks like that police know what they're doing. they don't need us."

"good," burkie nodded. "his purpose was to bring cardigan and sierra together, so we don't really have to spend much more time on him. even sierra wasn't emotionally invested in him, were you?" he turned toward sierra, scowling as he sees her bite into the hitherto untouched half of his sandwich.

"nope," she mumbled. "he was a bad kisser."

marian asked, "why isn't this Chapter 12?"

"oh, that. well, since i'm changing the format of this little exercise to that of a meeting place rather than a linear story, i'm going to give the chapters names rather than numbers."

"is that all we are to you? just an exercise?" sierra was indignant.

"no, not at all." burkie said defensively. "that's why i changed the format to make you guys the focus rather than a dead guy. you're much more interesting."

"i agree," concurred marian. "we are much more interesting." she looked at burkie. "have you finished "The Time Traveler's Wife?"

burkie shook his head. "no, not yet, but the end is near. i am enjoying it. it's very...human."

"but you don't like humans," sierra pointed out.

"that's true," burkie admitted, "but they're fictional humans--like you guys, and i enjoy you, too. i enjoy books with good characters, which is why i tend to enjoy serial fiction as the characters can be more fully developed over multiple books. the nice thing about 'the time traveler's wife' is that while the book has a clever premise, it serves to develop the characters and enhance their relationship rather than steal the spotlight from them."

"maybe i can be a time traveler, too," sierra piped in, "so i can help develop our characters further."

"no!" they all said in unison.

"but," marian grinned, "maybe you could date a time traveler. they're probably better kissers than dead guys."

"he wasn't dead when i kissed him!" sierra made a face. "and i don't want to date a guy who just pops in and out all the time without warning."

"plus, he arrives naked every time he time travels," burkie pointed out.

"eeeuw, definitely not." sierra shuddered. "can i date an independently wealthy vampire?"

"no!"

Casatiello

this bread is a wonderfully rich, brioche-like bread stuffed with italian salami and provolone cheese. the recipe is from reinhart's BBA, but it needs help. sorry for the terrible photo, but one thing you can tell in the photo is that there's not enough salami. i'm going to double it next time. i made this yesterday thinking it was the perfect super bowl bread (what a great game), and i was right. speaking of yesterday, i also made the "cornbread" recipe in BBA that reinhart included even though it's not a yeast bread, because he thinks "it doesn't get any better than this." he's wrong. it tastes fine, but it's not "cornbread." corn pudding maybe, or corn cake, or spoonbread at best, but you can't call something with 1/4 c. of granulate sugard AND 1/4 c. of brown sugar AND 2 Tbsp. of honey in it "cornbread." (it also has bacon, but the addition of bacon never bothers me.) i can eat it, but it's so sweet that it's almost a dessert. i also made chili yesterday. this is an emeril recipe. i chose it because it was simple, i had the stuff (except the hasa), and it didn't look terribly spicy (the other residents of this house have new jersian tastebuds). i doubled (at least) the spices anyway because it was really bland (my mother-in-law still thought it was a little on the spicy side, but i thought it was still pretty mild). the really odd thing about this recipe is the 8 CUPS of beef stock for just 2 lbs of meat. beef stock is kind of an odd ingredient for chili anyway, but 8 cups?! i stopped at 4 and still thought it was a little on the soupy side. i'd make it again, cutting down on the stock and adding some chipotles. and i always use pinto beans rather than kidney beans, but i do prefer beans in my chili (sorry, purists).

CYA: Marian & Taylor Visit The Three Broomsticks

NOTE: if you did not jump to this chapter as a result of the Choose Your Adventure story, please go here before reading any further!


"let's go to The Three Broomsticks," taylor suggested. "i've always wanted to try butterbeer."

"oh, i like that idea!" marian exclaimed. "can we?"

"yes, we can do that," hermione nodded.

they each grabbed an arm as hermione disapparated from the Pub. they appeared on the streets of Hogsmeade, just outside The Three Broomsticks.

a toothsome woman greeted them warmly as they entered. "welcome to The Three Broomsticks, dearies!"

"thank you, madam rosmerta," taylor bowed hastily. "you're beau--i mean, your place is beautiful."

marian kicked him and hermione muttered, "boys."

they sat down and ordered three butterbeers. when they arrived, marian and taylor each took a cautious sip, then hastily drained the entire mug. "cor, that's excellent!"

"i can't believe we're in Hogsmeade and The Three Broomsticks!" marian exclaimed, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "do you think we can visit Hogwarts--OH!"

"what is it, marian?" hermione asked.

"the Room Of Requirement!" she jumped up and did a quick victory dance. "if we need to rescue mr. franklin, the Room of Requirement will take us to him!"

"that's a great idea, love!" taylor leaned over and kissed her cheek. "can we do it?" he asked hermione.

she nodded. "i should have thought of that myself," she sounded only slightly annoyed. "let's go to Honeyduke's Sweetshop. harry told me that there's a trap door in the basement there with a secret tunnel that takes us into Hogwarts. let's go!"

they got up and ran out the door, down the street to Honeyduke's. taylor accidentally knocked over a display of chocolate frogs, causing some of the packages to open and, thus, allowing some of the frogs to escape and start jumping around. the store staff was too busy trying to capture the frogs to notice hermione, taylor, and marian going down into the basement.

"good thinking, taylor!" hermione told him. marian rolled her eyes but said nothing.

they pulled open the trap door and entered the tunnel.

"lumos!" hermione's wand emitted a low light, allowing them to scamper quickly through the tunnel without mishap. they emerged in Hogwarts behind the statue of a one-eyed witch.

"okay," hermione instructed them as they stood in a corridor within Hogwarts. "concentrate on needing to rescue mr. franklin."

they nodded and walked down the corridor. nothing happened.

"hmph."

"don't get discouraged," hermione told marian. "it might take a while. keep concentrating!"

they walked up and down the corridor several times. suddenly, lines appeared in the wall to reveal a door that hadn't been there before.

"we found it!" hermione told them, and reached forward to push open the door. they rushed in and found themselves in Poor Yorick's Pub.

"what the...?! how did we get here?" hermione looked around, perplexed.

taylor's face turned red. "um, i was kind of hungry."

"taylor!" marian stomped her foot and made a face of great annoyance.

"sorry, pet," taylor told her apologetically. "danny, is any of that pasta left?"

"don't call me pet!"


THE END
-----------------------------------------------------------


Dear Reader,


You have reached the end of your adventure. I hope you enjoyed it! If not, well, you only have yourself to blame because, you know, you chose it yourself. Also, since you--not I--chose this adventure, it did not really take place in the Burkieverse and, therefore, will not have any continuity with the regular Poor Yorick's Pub chapters. Thanks for playing and, if you're in the mood to try another adventure, go back to the beginning and choose a different path!

English Muffin Bread

this recipe is from james beard's "beard on bread" via sourdough home's intro to breadbaking pages. it is about the easiest yeasted bread you'll ever find, and oh so tasty. there is no kneading and no shaping. you can use your standmixer to stir/hydrate the dough, leave it in that bowl to rise, then use the mixer again to deflate it and mix in the baking soda, let it rise again in that bowl, then pour the very wet dough into an oiled bread pan and bake. the stickyness i guess helps the bread develop those nice holes & nooks & crannies. this is a bread that really must be toasted, and then just try to put too much butter on it. it's not possible :)

Chapter 11

"nice place," sierra noted as they walked into Poor Yorick's Pub together.

"hey, cardigan" danny blake greeted them from behind the bar. "looks like you're overachieving these days," he noted, winking at sierra. "you aren't the type he usually goes for."

"oh?" sierra was intrigued. "what type does he usually go for?"

"tight jeans and loose morals," blake smirked.

sierra laughed. cardigan brooded. "yeah, yeah, yeah. sierra charles, danny blake. sierra is just a client, blake." she arches an eyebrow at this. "okay, a business associate. what's on the menu today?"

"tamale pie."

"sounds good, and a couple of bass ales." they carried their mugs to a table and, after a sip, cardigan said, "okay, charles. you said there was unfinished business. what is it?"

she shrugged. "it's this story, cardigan. it's lame. it's disjointed. it's boring. it's stupid. it's going nowhere." she takes another sip. "i don't think we can go on like this."

he nodded. "i agree. this guy plainly doesn't know what he's doing. in fact, that's the point. he starts to make this shit up at the moment he clicks on 'New Post.' i feel like we're being played and i don't like it." he glanced at her across the table. "any ideas?"

"well, i was thinking that i'd just turn into a vampire all of the sudden and start biting you and others on the neck." she grinned. "i think that would be fun."

"not bad, charles, not bad." he leaned back as blake brought their tamale pie to the table. "but, do vampires eat real food?"

she closed her eyes and breathed in the rich aromas. "i don't think so, so scratch that. i'm not missing out on this." she picked up a fork and looked up at blake. "what do you think, danny?"

"well, i agree that something's gotta change, but i'm a tavern keeper, not a storyteller." he hollered over at his other customer, sitting at a table knitting while staring at a laptop, "hey, marian! what do you think?"

the woman looked up and pointed at herself with a questioning look on her face and, at blake's nod, walked over to the table. "i have given this matter much thought!"

cardigan swallowed and looked up. "i'm gavin cardigan, she's sierra charles. and this tamale pie is terrific."

"mmmhmmm," sierra concurred.

"my name is marian elfman, and i know who you are," she nodded toward her laptop. "i've been reading this drivel. now, i think you guys should just hang out here in the pub and just talk about whatever is on your mind. that way, there's no story to follow. i don't mind trying to figure out a good mystery plot, but...this is far from being good, you know?"

blake nodded. "i like that idea. plus, it'd be good for business."

cardigan drained his beer. "true, but for something like that to be interesting, we should all be pretty different from one another. charles and i are both private investigators."

sierra volunteered to change. "i don't care for this private investigator thing much anyway."

"what would you do, instead?"

"i can be a vampire!"

cardigan scowled. "come on, charles. we've been over that. you can't eat real food, you can't come here in the daytime, and none of us wants to be bitten."

"besides," marian interjected, "people come here for food, and all that blood will gross them out."
"and that would be bad for business," blake added.

"okay, fine. i'll be independently wealthy."

"no!" they all said in unison.

"okay, fine. i'll be a D-list celebrity who appears on lame reality TV shows."

"not bad, charles," cardigan grinned. "i could get a lot of mileage out of that." he looks over at marian. "what do you do, marian?"

"i write a syndicated advice column called 'don't be so melodramatic!'"

they all laughed. "that's perfect! we can make fun of all kinds of people," sierra noted. "that will take some of the pressure off of me."

cardigan said, "sounds like a plan." he put his hand out toward marian for a high-five. when she put her hand out toward his, he pulled it back to stroke his hair, "psych!"

marian scrunched up her face at him, stomping her foot. "that wasn't nice!"

blake grinned. "this is more like it!"

Chapter 10

cardigan followed sierra into her grandfather's house. it was surprisingly fragrant, and he noticed plants and flowers arranged in all the corners. he walked over to a startling rose arrangement, feeling the petals to see if they're real. "i can't believe these colors exist in nature."

she smiled at him. "dog's an experimental gardner, always tinkering with hybrids. he prefers interesting flowers to pretty flowers. i watered them all this morning. they were looking a little dry, which told me for sure that's he's been gone."

"i can see that," cardigan acknowledged. he glanced into the dining room. "that one looks pretty conventional." he indicated a green fern on the table.

sierra stared at it. "that wasn't here this morning, and he'd never have an ordinary fern." she walked over to it cautiously and examined it closely. "look, cardigan. the soil is really loose on top." she lifts the fern up gently by the base, pulling it out easily. she placed it on the table and dug her fingers into the soil. "there's something in here!"

cardigan watched as she pulls out a small, sealed plastic zipper bag with a folded sheet of paper inside. she hastily rips it open and opens up the note, reading it under her breath. he grumbled, "what's it say, charles?"

she ignores him, continuing to read to herself, then hands him the note as she sinks down into a chair. cardigan grabs the note and reads:

sierra,
i'm sorry about james. i was with him. i'm okay, just a little banged up. don't worry. i have a place to stay. i don't think they care about me, else they would have killed me, too. they probably think i'm too dumb to be a threat. instead, they just knocked me on the head. it hurt like hell, but i'm okay. i'm just going to be hard to find for a while, just to make sure nobody cares. i'm worried about you. be careful. i'll come back when i think it's safe.
love,
dog

cardigan looks puzzled. "why didn't he just call? why leave a note like this?"

she smiled weakly. "he can't talk. he was born without vocal chords. that's why he joked about being 'too dumb.'"

he looks at her. "what now, charles? i mean, livermore is dead, and the police are handling the case. your grandfather is safe. what else is left for us to do?"

she hesitates. "there is something, cardigan. but....can we get some lunch first? i'm starving."