gavin cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub, shrugged off his sodden trench coat and placed it on a wooden peg, tossed his fedora on the adjacent peg, and stepped up to the bar.
"what's on the menu tonight, buddy?"
danny blake, Pub proprietor, filled a pint with Guinness and slid it over to him.
"Guinness-braised short ribs, alongside old-fashioned colcannon."
cardigan took a long sip, allowing the dark-brown malted stout to warm his insides, and nodded. "sounds perfect. i'll take a healthy portion, please. and by healthy, i mean anything but healthy."
he took his pint and headed for his regular table, already surrounded by his regular Pub companions.
"gavin!"
he felt his insides grow even warmer as foxy charles greeted him with a quick hug and peck on the cheek
"hey, foxy! what brings you here tonight?"
"i missed my sis, and you guys, too," she answered with a grin. "and i brought a date!"
"oh."
"hey, cardigan. long time, no see," said the stunning face that appeared from behind foxy.
"oh, hey Juliet. nice to see you again," cardigan replied with relief, glaring at sierra charles, who was snickering at him and her crossdressing brother. "a charles family reunion?"
the Mysterious Lurker appeared suddenly at the table, her sky blue hair blowing in an non-existing wind. "no, gavin. juliet is the lead in the touring producting of "Priscilla, Queen of the Dessert! they're in San Francisco for three weeks."
"i brought tickets for everyone," juliet extended her hand. "i hope you can make it. it's for saturday night."
"that sounds great, thanks juliet." cardigan took his seat at the table, noticing that marian elfman was uncommonly quiet as she poked at her laptop.
"''sup, marian?"
"oh, hi gavin. i'm trying to figure out which questions to answer in my column," replied the advice columnist. what do you guys think of this one?"
Dear Marian,
My first cousin on my mother's side is engaged to a wonderful woman. The problem is, she's my first cousin on my father's side! Now, obviously they are not related by blood, so there's nothing technically wrong with it, BUT IT'S WRONG! My first cousins are marrying each other! Eeewwww! how i can talk them out this? I don't even know if I'm supposed to sit on the groom's side or the bride's side. It's so awkward!''
Signed,
In-laws or Outlaws
"that is...well, a rather interesting question, isn't it?" sierra noted.
"yes, sierra, i agree," foxy nodded.
"marian, what do you think about it? it sounds like these people--or this person--really needs your advice," juliet added hurriedly.
marian looked at the three of them with a face of surprise. "really? it doesn't seem that complicated to me."
danny blake delivered a steaming plate of short ribs and colcannon in front of cardigan. "i wonder how often that situation occurs? i've never heard of it before, but on the other hand, it doesn't sound that outlandish."
"i don't see the problem," cardigan muttered around a mouthful of goodness.
"you not thinking from the author's perspective, cardigan," sierra argued. "to them--or her or him--that is, it has to be really weird. these are family members that they--or her or him-- grew up with."
"but different sides of the family. they wouldn't even be at the same family reunions or christmas parties, right?" the Lurker pointed out.
"but i can see how it must be awkward for, um, whoever wrote that letter," foxy indicated. "the couple seems to be rather selfish to get married without thinking of their--or his or her--feelings."
"sounds like great song material," tucker mused, strumming a chord.
she's my cousin's cousin
the birds are a' singin' and the bees are a' buzzin'
she's my cousin's cousin
we say we does though my cousin says we doesn't
"that's...awful, tucker."
"i've just started! wait until i finish this baby. it'll be great!" strum strum...
marian scowled. "they aren't breaking any laws, and love is love. whoever the author is, i think they--or he, or she--is the one being selfish. they--or he, or she--shouldn't be so melodramatic!"
as she proclaimed the matter settled with her signature tagline, the three charles family members gave a barely audible hmph.
cardigan, always the detective, noticed and raised his eyebrows. "hey. wait a minute--"
"gavin, you'll be my date to juliet's show on saturday, won't you?" foxy grabbed his arm and leaned in close. "we can get a limo, make a night of it. what do you say?"
"what? date? me? um, yeah, that....that sounds great." cardigan was suddenly flustered. "wait, a limo?"
"i know a guy with a limo!" the tuxedo-clad Lurker exclaimed. "i can drive."
"woohoo!"
danny delivered another round to the table. "something wrong, gavin?"
"no....no, i just...what?"
danny smirked, gathered the empty glasses, and shook his head as he headed back to the bar.
Showing posts with label foxy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label foxy. Show all posts
Saturday, December 1, 2018
Saturday, March 3, 2018
DM it, marian!
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub, hanging his coat, fedora, and scarf on the wall.
"you're looking at a mighty hungry man tonight, danny. what've you got for me?"
danny blake poured him a pint of Guinness and replied, "chai boey."
"um...what's that?"
"a mustard greens stew, with pork belly."
cardigan nodded, taking a sip. "make it a very large bowl."
he walked towards the back, hesitated, and muttered a mild curse under his breath when he saw his friends gathered around marian in the back, a dungeon master screen in front of her.
okay, maybe it wasn't that mild.
his spirits brightened considerably when foxy charles patted the space next to her. "just in time!"
he grunted as he settled next to her. "can i have some armor or something? i'm getting tired of being taken out with one hit."
"you're a rogue, gavin!" marian admonished him. "rather, your character Garvin is a rogue, and they can't wear heavy armor. by the way, burkie has added a sidebar to the left to help everyone remember who is playing whom--"
"i think it's safe to say that he's playing us all."
marian scowled, it being one of her best and--in gavin's presence--most often used facial expressions. "shush! he also added a 'search' function to the blog which will be really useful."
"for what?"
"to whom?"
"new readers?"
"do we even have any old readers left?"
"we certainly don't have any young readers."
"maybe we have fictional readers."
"we have to have at least one reader or we wouldn't exist at all."
"we don't exist?!"
"stop it! now, ready? okay!" marian sounded like a cheerleader as she looked around at the assembled players. "you've survived the rather light skirmish at the graveyard and recovered a key. the dog has run off, seemingly having fulfilled his purpose."
"how do we know it's a him?"
"we never found out the dog's name!"
"um..." marian ruffled some papers, clearly flustered and unprepared for this.
jasper curled his bottom lip back between his teeth and let out a shrill "FWEET! FWEET!"
"here, doggy!" sierra called out.
"um....okay, guys, the dog just runs off," marian told them. "now--"
tucker strums a chord. "Trotter plays a happy chord on his guitar and casts a 'charm' spell to compel the dog to come back to us."
"guys, that's not part of the scenario. let's--"
"but we're roleplaying! the story has to adapt to how we react. isn't that how this is supposed to work?" the Lurker reasoned. "the dog comes trotting back and i cast 'tongues' to speak to it in dog language."
"there is no dog language--"
monte, the Pub's resident cardigan welsh corgi, gave an indignant bark from over by the fireplace.
"it's a she of the species! and her name is Stella von Ripperschnauzer," the Lurker informed them.
"invite her to join us! she'll probably be very useful."
"guys, rangers don't get an animal companion until 3rd Level, and i didn't prepare--"
"that's okay, Jinkster's a quick study and learns fast for a 1st Level," Seyarrah noted. "he went to the best schools!"
"okay, fine. Stella joins the party."
"yay!"
"huzzah!"
"woof!"
danny delivers cardigan's stew. "good call."
the Lurker's eyes go wide. "oh, Stella's hungry! she suddenly chases after an evil rabbit that just darted from behind a tombstone."
"wait, an evil rabbit?"
"i don't want to watch her eat an innocent, cute bunny. do you?"
"good point."
"guys, we need to get to the castle now," marian was scowling extra scowlingly now.
"wait, the poor thing is hungry! she's earned her reward by leading us to the key, don't you think?."
"while she eats, Garvin takes out the new throwing knives and start sharpening them against a whetstone while Stella eats the evil rabbit," gavin explains around a mouthful of stew.
"nice thinking, Garvin!" foxy beams at him. "and Malifox stars wiping the bone dust off of her swords, because bone dust can be poisonous."
"Trotter sits on a tombstone and tunes his guitar."
"Seyarrah points her hands at a pile of twigs to start a cook fire," sierra noted, "and starts heating up some leftover mustard green stew."
"guys, you have a quest to fulfill over at Castle Elsinore!"
"we need to eat, to keep our strength up," taylor told her, "so Russert pulls out a hot dog and places it on the end of a whittled-down stick and places it over the flames of the fire."
"i've got ale," Jinkster announces.
"hear, hear!" Garvin pulls out a mug. "and, um, here here."
"the Lurker wants a hot dog, too," the Lurker announced. "with mustard."
"guys, you don't have hot dogs or mustard or stew. you have trail rations and dried beef--"
"trail mix?! i need more than peanuts and raisins if i'm gonna storm a haunted castle."
"it's not trail mix; it's trail rations!"
"which is...?"
"um...dried fruit and, um...nuts, and...."
"trail mix. no thanks."
"FWOOSH!" the Lurked fwooshed with a flourish of hands. "s'mores!"
"yay!"
"no, no s'mores!!!!"
"mmmmmm, s'mores."
"nom nom nom"
"i'm gonna need a nap after this."
"hmph."
"you're looking at a mighty hungry man tonight, danny. what've you got for me?"
danny blake poured him a pint of Guinness and replied, "chai boey."
"um...what's that?"
"a mustard greens stew, with pork belly."
cardigan nodded, taking a sip. "make it a very large bowl."
he walked towards the back, hesitated, and muttered a mild curse under his breath when he saw his friends gathered around marian in the back, a dungeon master screen in front of her.
okay, maybe it wasn't that mild.
his spirits brightened considerably when foxy charles patted the space next to her. "just in time!"
he grunted as he settled next to her. "can i have some armor or something? i'm getting tired of being taken out with one hit."
"you're a rogue, gavin!" marian admonished him. "rather, your character Garvin is a rogue, and they can't wear heavy armor. by the way, burkie has added a sidebar to the left to help everyone remember who is playing whom--"
"i think it's safe to say that he's playing us all."
marian scowled, it being one of her best and--in gavin's presence--most often used facial expressions. "shush! he also added a 'search' function to the blog which will be really useful."
"for what?"
"to whom?"
"new readers?"
"do we even have any old readers left?"
"we certainly don't have any young readers."
"maybe we have fictional readers."
"we have to have at least one reader or we wouldn't exist at all."
"we don't exist?!"
"stop it! now, ready? okay!" marian sounded like a cheerleader as she looked around at the assembled players. "you've survived the rather light skirmish at the graveyard and recovered a key. the dog has run off, seemingly having fulfilled his purpose."
"how do we know it's a him?"
"we never found out the dog's name!"
"um..." marian ruffled some papers, clearly flustered and unprepared for this.
jasper curled his bottom lip back between his teeth and let out a shrill "FWEET! FWEET!"
"here, doggy!" sierra called out.
"um....okay, guys, the dog just runs off," marian told them. "now--"
tucker strums a chord. "Trotter plays a happy chord on his guitar and casts a 'charm' spell to compel the dog to come back to us."
"guys, that's not part of the scenario. let's--"
"but we're roleplaying! the story has to adapt to how we react. isn't that how this is supposed to work?" the Lurker reasoned. "the dog comes trotting back and i cast 'tongues' to speak to it in dog language."
"there is no dog language--"
monte, the Pub's resident cardigan welsh corgi, gave an indignant bark from over by the fireplace.
"it's a she of the species! and her name is Stella von Ripperschnauzer," the Lurker informed them.
"invite her to join us! she'll probably be very useful."
"guys, rangers don't get an animal companion until 3rd Level, and i didn't prepare--"
"that's okay, Jinkster's a quick study and learns fast for a 1st Level," Seyarrah noted. "he went to the best schools!"
"okay, fine. Stella joins the party."
"yay!"
"huzzah!"
"woof!"
danny delivers cardigan's stew. "good call."
the Lurker's eyes go wide. "oh, Stella's hungry! she suddenly chases after an evil rabbit that just darted from behind a tombstone."
"wait, an evil rabbit?"
"i don't want to watch her eat an innocent, cute bunny. do you?"
"good point."
"guys, we need to get to the castle now," marian was scowling extra scowlingly now.
"wait, the poor thing is hungry! she's earned her reward by leading us to the key, don't you think?."
"while she eats, Garvin takes out the new throwing knives and start sharpening them against a whetstone while Stella eats the evil rabbit," gavin explains around a mouthful of stew.
"nice thinking, Garvin!" foxy beams at him. "and Malifox stars wiping the bone dust off of her swords, because bone dust can be poisonous."
"Trotter sits on a tombstone and tunes his guitar."
"Seyarrah points her hands at a pile of twigs to start a cook fire," sierra noted, "and starts heating up some leftover mustard green stew."
"guys, you have a quest to fulfill over at Castle Elsinore!"
"we need to eat, to keep our strength up," taylor told her, "so Russert pulls out a hot dog and places it on the end of a whittled-down stick and places it over the flames of the fire."
"i've got ale," Jinkster announces.
"hear, hear!" Garvin pulls out a mug. "and, um, here here."
"the Lurker wants a hot dog, too," the Lurker announced. "with mustard."
"guys, you don't have hot dogs or mustard or stew. you have trail rations and dried beef--"
"trail mix?! i need more than peanuts and raisins if i'm gonna storm a haunted castle."
"it's not trail mix; it's trail rations!"
"which is...?"
"um...dried fruit and, um...nuts, and...."
"trail mix. no thanks."
"FWOOSH!" the Lurked fwooshed with a flourish of hands. "s'mores!"
"yay!"
"no, no s'mores!!!!"
"mmmmmm, s'mores."
"nom nom nom"
"i'm gonna need a nap after this."
"hmph."
Saturday, February 24, 2018
Hey, it's Poor Yorick's Pub. A graveyard scene was inevitable.
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub with a heavy sigh.
"danny boy, whaddya have for a hard-working man?"
"korean bbq yum yum rice bowl," his friend danny blake replied, sliding a ping of Guinness at him.
"sounds like just the thing, thanks." he lifts his pint in a toast, takes a sip, and heads back to join his friends who are already gathered around the tables that have been set up for D&D.
"have a seat, shorty," foxy charles scoots over to let him in.
"thanks, tall green and beautiful," he muttered good-naturedly (for gavin) as he settles in.
"awww, i'm shipping for Garvin and Malifox," marian grinned from behind the DM screen.
"wait, you're the DM. you can't ship for any of the player-characters--you have to be neutral," sierra charlie pointed out.
"what does 'shipping' mean in this context?" gavin asked suspiciously.
"shush!" marian scolded him. "now, let me remind our myriad of readers who everyone is, especially since burkie went back to change all the D&D names."
gavin cardigan: Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue
foxy charles: Malifox, a half-orc fighter
sierra charles: Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric
jasper ffoote: Jinkster Wildeffoote, a human ranger
taylor young: Russert de Lioncourt, a elven vampire...druid....kinda thing
Mysterious Lurker: Mysterious Lurker, a tiefling sorceress (tieflings are a half-demon race often charactrized by blue skin, a tail, and horns)
tucker: Trotter, a half-elf bard
cardigan bristles at the mention of their handome creator and takes another sip or two.
"at the end of our last adventure, the group of you--"
"wait, we need a name for our group!"
"Transylvanguards!"
"no."
"The Woody Guthries."
"no."
"Burkie's Castaways."
"hell, no."
"The Publicans," danny suggested as he delived cardigan's din din with yum yum sauce.
cardigan nodded. "i like it." he digs in. "i like this, too. yum....er, yum."
marian nodded. "okay, The Publicans started following the dog down the right-hand path to a cemetery, even though the left-hand path was supposed to lead to their intended destination. he eventually leads you into a very old graveyard. some stones are crumbled and faded, some are gone completely. some are covered up by vines and weeds. there is a big oak tree in the middle. the dog runs over with a bark and starts digging at the dirt in front of it. you approach, slowly, watching the dog. you hears his claws starts scratching against something that sounds like wood. he sits back, tongue hanging out, looking very pleased with himself. you see that he has uncovered a small chest."
"what a nice dog! let's see what's inside."
"wait!" Jinkster held up a hand. "it might be a trap."
"rogues are good at finding traps," Russert noted. "Garvin, why don't you go inspect it to make sure it's not a trap."
"um, right. okay," gavin swallowed a mouthful of korean bbq. "i...um...Garvin goes over to look at the box and, um, it looks okay."
marian shook her head. "no, you have to roll a Perception Check to see if you can perceive a trap. roll a d20,than add your dexterity modifier and your skill ranks."
"um...okay." gavin picks through his dice to find the 20-sided one and rolls it, winces, refers to his character sheet. "um....2 plus...um...okay. 9?"
"Garvin doesn't detect any traps," marian announces.
gavin nods. "right, so Garvin lifts the box out of the hole and opens it."
marian shakes her head. "as Garvin attempts to open the box, a greenish mist puffs out toward his face and is instantly paralyzed."
"WHAT?! you said there wasn't a trap!"
"no, i said you didn't perceive the trap. your perception roll was too low."
"#&%$!"
"gavin!"
"at that moment, you hear what sounds like bones clacking and look behind you. there are three skeletons approaching. the two on either side are carrying long, jagged swords. the one in the middle is taller, wearing a crown, and hand has a chain around its neck with something mall dangling on it. roll for initiative!"
they reach for the d20 and roll. dice are scrambling around the table, followed a series of cheers and groans, and one scolding.
"gavin, you don't roll. Garvin is paralyzed!"
the players let marian know what their initiative roll was and she jots down the order of attack.
"Lurker, you rolled highest, so you're first."
the Lurker stands, her hair going from red to light blue right before their eyes. "I extend my left hand toward the skeleton on the left and curl back all but the middle finger, which emits a beam of light blue light straight at him and yell, 'Ray of Frost, you bag of bones!'"
"yay!" marian clapped. "make an attack roll. a d20 and add your modifiers."
the Lurker rolls and squeals. "a 20!"
"that's a critical role!" marian exclaimed. "roll a d8 for damage, add your modifiers, then double it."
the Lurker picks up her orange 8-sided die, her hair turns orange to match. the rubs the die on her hair and rolls.
"thats...good! and with modiefiers...doubled....that's an 18!"
marian rubs her hands together. "the spell streaks from your middle finger and strikes the fragile skeleton, encasing it in a film of ice. the force of the spell knocks him down and his skeleton frame shatters into a thousand pieces of ice shards."
the Lurker blows on her finger. "yeah, i'm bad."
"Russert, you're up!"
"right!" taylor stands and pulls his arm up across his face. "i pull the top of my cape over the front of my face and stare down the skeleton on the right and hypnotize him."
marian rolled her eyes and said, "okay, make a persuasion check and add your charisma modifier."
"taylor rolled his d20 off the table, and they all had to help him find it, then rolled it again. "12."
marian shook her head. "his dead, so he is immune to your attempts to hypnotize him."
"hmph."
"Trotter?"
"ah, yes. well, i'm going to cast Inspire Courage on our new friend Jinkster to increase his attack and damage rolls," tucker explained, then strummed a chord.
he knocks an arrow, straight and true
and aims it as his foe
the shaft will fly without a sound
and down his foe will go
uh huh
uh huh
and down his foe will go
hey!
"ah, thanks Trotter." Jinkster looks pleased and rises, holding his left arm start out and pulling an imaginary bowstring back to his right ear, squinting one eye to fix his gaze. "i have the boney bastard in my sights and let fly!"
he rolls a d20 and adds his dexterity modifier. "18!"
"that hits! roll for attack!"
jasper rolls a d8, adds his modifier and Trotter's inspiration. "13."
"just enough," marian nods. "the arrow strikes the sternum, shattering it, and causing the bones connected to it to disengage, and the chain reaction reduced the entire skeleton into a heap of useless bones upon the ground."
"nice shot, Jinkster!" Seyarrah praised him.
"oh! i'm going to ship Jinkster and Seyarrah, too!" marian looked at them and grinned, then made a serious face. "it's the Boss Skeleton's turn. he raised his hands and sends a red bolt of fire straight at Garvin's supine form."
she rolls a d20. "what's Garvin's armor class?"
"um, 14."
"the fire bolts slam into Garvin's defenseless body and deals..." she rolls a die and calculates. "12 damage."
"dammit! how 'come nobody else gets attacked?"
"you're paralyzed! of course he's going to attack you. it's not personal. Seyarrah, you're up."
"heal me!"
"no, this guy is undead. cleric's are awesome against undead," sierra grinned and rose. "i cast Cure Wounds!"she rolls a d20. "21 with modiefier."
"that hits! roll for damage."
sierra rolled and frown. "4."
"my turn!" foxy stands." Malifox rushes forward, twirling two swords in her hands, screaming an orcish curse at the skeleton and drive both blades into his chest!"
"okay, roll for the first blade."
"23!"
"okay, roll for attack. a d10 plus your strength."
"13!"
"now roll for the second sword."
"19?"
"that'll work. damage?"
"11."
marian looks at her and grins. "the stage is yours!"
"um...what?"
"that's my catchphrase for when you defeat a boss! when i say, 'the stage is yours,' it means you have defeated the boss and you may describe the kill."
"that's cool! macabre, but cool! okay, let's see. i leap from about 6 feet away and hurls myself with both blades extended before me straight into the skeleton's ribcage, driving him back and pinning him to the ground as i land with my full weight onto his pelvis, crushing his bones into harmless pieces."
the table applauds and foxy bows.
"can i get some goddamned healing over here?"
"hush, you can't talk!" poke.
"i guess we should heal him."
"he hasn't been much help. maybe we should leave him here and save the potions and healing spells for someone more useful?"
cardigan glared as he lifted his pint, and cursed to find it empty. "danny, another pint!"
"Malifox has a Cure Poison potion," foxy takes her own pint glass and places it against cardigan's mouth. "drink, Garvin. this will make you feel 4 foot tall!"
gavin glares and sips.
"i'm going to loot the big guy," Jinkster announces and goes over to pull the chain off from around his neck. "there's a key here. it's a...wait for it....wait for it..."
they waited for it.
"a skeleton key." they groaned and he placed it in his pocket. "i'm sure it will come in handy later."
"okay, everyone back away from the hole in the ground," the Lurker told them. "i'm going to conjure Mage Hand and, as the spectral, floating hand comes into being i send it over to the box and open it, letting the poisoin gas float harmlessly out. the Mage Hand brings the box halfway over and carfeully dumps the context onto the ground, then places the box back in the hole again. "much better than endangering our halfling."
Russert walks over to inspect the contents on the ground. "20 gold pieces, a cure poison potion, a healing potion, and a couple of throwing knives."
"give Garvin the knives. halflings are good at throwing things," Seyarrah suggested, then ducked as a coaster is flung at her head. "usually, anyway."
"hmph."
"danny boy, whaddya have for a hard-working man?"
"korean bbq yum yum rice bowl," his friend danny blake replied, sliding a ping of Guinness at him.
"sounds like just the thing, thanks." he lifts his pint in a toast, takes a sip, and heads back to join his friends who are already gathered around the tables that have been set up for D&D.
"have a seat, shorty," foxy charles scoots over to let him in.
"thanks, tall green and beautiful," he muttered good-naturedly (for gavin) as he settles in.
"awww, i'm shipping for Garvin and Malifox," marian grinned from behind the DM screen.
"wait, you're the DM. you can't ship for any of the player-characters--you have to be neutral," sierra charlie pointed out.
"what does 'shipping' mean in this context?" gavin asked suspiciously.
"shush!" marian scolded him. "now, let me remind our myriad of readers who everyone is, especially since burkie went back to change all the D&D names."
gavin cardigan: Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue
foxy charles: Malifox, a half-orc fighter
sierra charles: Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric
jasper ffoote: Jinkster Wildeffoote, a human ranger
taylor young: Russert de Lioncourt, a elven vampire...druid....kinda thing
Mysterious Lurker: Mysterious Lurker, a tiefling sorceress (tieflings are a half-demon race often charactrized by blue skin, a tail, and horns)
tucker: Trotter, a half-elf bard
cardigan bristles at the mention of their handome creator and takes another sip or two.
"at the end of our last adventure, the group of you--"
"wait, we need a name for our group!"
"Transylvanguards!"
"no."
"The Woody Guthries."
"no."
"Burkie's Castaways."
"hell, no."
"The Publicans," danny suggested as he delived cardigan's din din with yum yum sauce.
cardigan nodded. "i like it." he digs in. "i like this, too. yum....er, yum."
marian nodded. "okay, The Publicans started following the dog down the right-hand path to a cemetery, even though the left-hand path was supposed to lead to their intended destination. he eventually leads you into a very old graveyard. some stones are crumbled and faded, some are gone completely. some are covered up by vines and weeds. there is a big oak tree in the middle. the dog runs over with a bark and starts digging at the dirt in front of it. you approach, slowly, watching the dog. you hears his claws starts scratching against something that sounds like wood. he sits back, tongue hanging out, looking very pleased with himself. you see that he has uncovered a small chest."
"what a nice dog! let's see what's inside."
"wait!" Jinkster held up a hand. "it might be a trap."
"rogues are good at finding traps," Russert noted. "Garvin, why don't you go inspect it to make sure it's not a trap."
"um, right. okay," gavin swallowed a mouthful of korean bbq. "i...um...Garvin goes over to look at the box and, um, it looks okay."
marian shook her head. "no, you have to roll a Perception Check to see if you can perceive a trap. roll a d20,than add your dexterity modifier and your skill ranks."
"um...okay." gavin picks through his dice to find the 20-sided one and rolls it, winces, refers to his character sheet. "um....2 plus...um...okay. 9?"
"Garvin doesn't detect any traps," marian announces.
gavin nods. "right, so Garvin lifts the box out of the hole and opens it."
marian shakes her head. "as Garvin attempts to open the box, a greenish mist puffs out toward his face and is instantly paralyzed."
"WHAT?! you said there wasn't a trap!"
"no, i said you didn't perceive the trap. your perception roll was too low."
"#&%$!"
"gavin!"
"at that moment, you hear what sounds like bones clacking and look behind you. there are three skeletons approaching. the two on either side are carrying long, jagged swords. the one in the middle is taller, wearing a crown, and hand has a chain around its neck with something mall dangling on it. roll for initiative!"
they reach for the d20 and roll. dice are scrambling around the table, followed a series of cheers and groans, and one scolding.
"gavin, you don't roll. Garvin is paralyzed!"
the players let marian know what their initiative roll was and she jots down the order of attack.
"Lurker, you rolled highest, so you're first."
the Lurker stands, her hair going from red to light blue right before their eyes. "I extend my left hand toward the skeleton on the left and curl back all but the middle finger, which emits a beam of light blue light straight at him and yell, 'Ray of Frost, you bag of bones!'"
"yay!" marian clapped. "make an attack roll. a d20 and add your modifiers."
the Lurker rolls and squeals. "a 20!"
"that's a critical role!" marian exclaimed. "roll a d8 for damage, add your modifiers, then double it."
the Lurker picks up her orange 8-sided die, her hair turns orange to match. the rubs the die on her hair and rolls.
"thats...good! and with modiefiers...doubled....that's an 18!"
marian rubs her hands together. "the spell streaks from your middle finger and strikes the fragile skeleton, encasing it in a film of ice. the force of the spell knocks him down and his skeleton frame shatters into a thousand pieces of ice shards."
the Lurker blows on her finger. "yeah, i'm bad."
"Russert, you're up!"
"right!" taylor stands and pulls his arm up across his face. "i pull the top of my cape over the front of my face and stare down the skeleton on the right and hypnotize him."
marian rolled her eyes and said, "okay, make a persuasion check and add your charisma modifier."
"taylor rolled his d20 off the table, and they all had to help him find it, then rolled it again. "12."
marian shook her head. "his dead, so he is immune to your attempts to hypnotize him."
"hmph."
"Trotter?"
"ah, yes. well, i'm going to cast Inspire Courage on our new friend Jinkster to increase his attack and damage rolls," tucker explained, then strummed a chord.
he knocks an arrow, straight and true
and aims it as his foe
the shaft will fly without a sound
and down his foe will go
uh huh
uh huh
and down his foe will go
hey!
"ah, thanks Trotter." Jinkster looks pleased and rises, holding his left arm start out and pulling an imaginary bowstring back to his right ear, squinting one eye to fix his gaze. "i have the boney bastard in my sights and let fly!"
he rolls a d20 and adds his dexterity modifier. "18!"
"that hits! roll for attack!"
jasper rolls a d8, adds his modifier and Trotter's inspiration. "13."
"just enough," marian nods. "the arrow strikes the sternum, shattering it, and causing the bones connected to it to disengage, and the chain reaction reduced the entire skeleton into a heap of useless bones upon the ground."
"nice shot, Jinkster!" Seyarrah praised him.
"oh! i'm going to ship Jinkster and Seyarrah, too!" marian looked at them and grinned, then made a serious face. "it's the Boss Skeleton's turn. he raised his hands and sends a red bolt of fire straight at Garvin's supine form."
she rolls a d20. "what's Garvin's armor class?"
"um, 14."
"the fire bolts slam into Garvin's defenseless body and deals..." she rolls a die and calculates. "12 damage."
"dammit! how 'come nobody else gets attacked?"
"you're paralyzed! of course he's going to attack you. it's not personal. Seyarrah, you're up."
"heal me!"
"no, this guy is undead. cleric's are awesome against undead," sierra grinned and rose. "i cast Cure Wounds!"she rolls a d20. "21 with modiefier."
"that hits! roll for damage."
sierra rolled and frown. "4."
"my turn!" foxy stands." Malifox rushes forward, twirling two swords in her hands, screaming an orcish curse at the skeleton and drive both blades into his chest!"
"okay, roll for the first blade."
"23!"
"okay, roll for attack. a d10 plus your strength."
"13!"
"now roll for the second sword."
"19?"
"that'll work. damage?"
"11."
marian looks at her and grins. "the stage is yours!"
"um...what?"
"that's my catchphrase for when you defeat a boss! when i say, 'the stage is yours,' it means you have defeated the boss and you may describe the kill."
"that's cool! macabre, but cool! okay, let's see. i leap from about 6 feet away and hurls myself with both blades extended before me straight into the skeleton's ribcage, driving him back and pinning him to the ground as i land with my full weight onto his pelvis, crushing his bones into harmless pieces."
the table applauds and foxy bows.
"can i get some goddamned healing over here?"
"hush, you can't talk!" poke.
"i guess we should heal him."
"he hasn't been much help. maybe we should leave him here and save the potions and healing spells for someone more useful?"
cardigan glared as he lifted his pint, and cursed to find it empty. "danny, another pint!"
"Malifox has a Cure Poison potion," foxy takes her own pint glass and places it against cardigan's mouth. "drink, Garvin. this will make you feel 4 foot tall!"
gavin glares and sips.
"i'm going to loot the big guy," Jinkster announces and goes over to pull the chain off from around his neck. "there's a key here. it's a...wait for it....wait for it..."
they waited for it.
"a skeleton key." they groaned and he placed it in his pocket. "i'm sure it will come in handy later."
"okay, everyone back away from the hole in the ground," the Lurker told them. "i'm going to conjure Mage Hand and, as the spectral, floating hand comes into being i send it over to the box and open it, letting the poisoin gas float harmlessly out. the Mage Hand brings the box halfway over and carfeully dumps the context onto the ground, then places the box back in the hole again. "much better than endangering our halfling."
Russert walks over to inspect the contents on the ground. "20 gold pieces, a cure poison potion, a healing potion, and a couple of throwing knives."
"give Garvin the knives. halflings are good at throwing things," Seyarrah suggested, then ducked as a coaster is flung at her head. "usually, anyway."
"hmph."
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Be Nice To Dog
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub, shaking off the cold, scattering it all over the floor.
"hey, danny! what's on the menu tonight?"
danny blake handed him a pint of Bass and said, "kimchi fried rice."
gavin nodded his approval as he picked up the beer, lifting it to toast the Pub proprietor, and turns to walk back to join the regulars. he groans as he sees the Dungeon Master screen spread before marian, the others sitting around her.
"Dungeons & Dragons again?! i thought that chapter was over."
marian pointed at his chair with authority. "sit! we didn't do anything last time! all we did was introduce the characters. you start your adventure tonight!"
he settled in between the sisters charles. "okay, let's get this over with. who do i kill?"
"shush!" marian shushed him. "now, Lord Beardhead has final instructions for you."
she cleared her throat, then squinted her eyes, puffed out her cheeks, and crunched her lips up right under her nose. in a gruff yet lifting voice she said, "adventurers, you have a perilous quest before you. succeed and bring the Bludhammer to me, and i will reward you handsomely. fail, and...well, die." she looked at them individually, holding each in her gaze for an almost uncomfortable period before moving to the next. "one last piece of advice before you go: be nice to dog."
with that, Lord Beardhead gives a sign and the great oaken doors of his manor slam shut, leaving them outside.
"wait...what?"
"'be nice to dog?!' what the hell does that mean?"
"why wouldn't i be nice to dogs? why would anyone not be nice to dogs?"
"well, there are dogs...and then there are dogs."
"spoken like a cat person!"
"let's just get going, shall we?" gavin grumbled.
marian poked him with a telescopic backscratcher with a clawed hand on the end. "you're a halfling! you need to speak with a higher voice. roleplay!"
"ow! put that thing away!"
poke.
"dammit--"
poke.
Malifox pulls on his arm and grows deeply. "this way, puny!"
sierra giggled and gavin was about to say something inappropriate when danny placed a steaming bowl of kimchi fried rice in front of him. "eat up, bilbo. you'll need your strength."
before he could retort Jinkster said, "hey, chaps. with my keen hunter senses, i...um...sense a fork in the road ahead and a large shaggy dog standing before it."
"a dog, you say?" Trotter said, putting his hand above his eyes to look ahead. "i am blessed with keen eyesight from my elven kin. the dog is black, with splotches of white. friendly looking."
marian beamed at him. "good, good! now you're into the spirit of it. now, you approach the dog and see him standing in the middle of the path, right before it splits into two directions. a sign behind has an arrow pointing to the left with the word 'Elsinore.' the arrow to the right says 'Cemetery.'"
gavin stops shoveling fried rice into his mouth just long enough to gesture to the left with his chopsticks. "to the left. let's go."
marian scowls at him and rolls a die. she looks at the result, consults her papers, rolls two more dice, shakes her head, then says "as you start to walk down the left-hand path, the dog leaps and snaps at your throat, gashing it open, your blood gushing out fiercely. you gasp, press your fingers against the wound, but it splatters out about them. you take 25 points of damage."
"WHAT?!" gavin drops his sticks and foxy grabs his arms instinctively. the others look at gavin, petrified. "i only have 12 hit points!"
"what's your constitution?"
"um....14."
marian softens her voice. "Garvin Sweaterbearer is unconscious and barely alive. all of you suddenly realize just how perilous this adventure is. this is no walking party through hobbiton. it is serious business! now, be very careful with your next actions. think!"
"wtf?!"
"okay, okay everyone. calm down. we can figure this out," Mysterious Lurker emits a calming, light blue mist around them.
"i'm a cleric, i'll heal him," Seyarrah of the Seven Seas informed them. "um...." she raises one of gavin's chopsticks into the air. "Septima, i call upon your grace to restore the health of this tempestuous halfling...and perhaps bump up his charisma stats a little bit while you're at it."
gavin glared at her and snatched his chopstick from her hand.
"good call, Seyarrah," marian praised her. "now, roll 3d6."
"what's that mean?"
"roll three 6-sided dice, then add up the result. that will be the amount of points that you heal Garvin."
"oh, got it." Seyarrah nodded and rolled her 3d6. "yay, 14!"
"good! that restores Garvin to consciousness, but he's still in bad shape."
"give me a healing potion, dammit!"
"3d4."
gavin grumbles, picking around the funny dice to find three of the pyramid-shaped ones and rolls. "um....7. that's better. why'd that dog bite me?!"
"the dwarf--he said 'be nice to dog,' remember?" Mysterious Lurker pointed out. "You started walking off without acknowledging him."
foxy lowers her voice and says, "Malifox reaches down into her bag and pulls out a thick, raw steak and tosses it to the dog. 'here you go, buddy. this will taste a lot better than hobbit.'"
gavin glared while marian nodded and told Malifox to make a persuasion roll and add her charisma score to it. Malifox rolls her d20 and says, "15!"
marian starts making nom nom noises. "the dog tears into the steak, wolfing it down."
"shouldn't he be dogging it down? he's not a wolf, right?"
marian looks at taylor and growls until he raises his hands defensively. "sorry, just a little humor."
"the dog wags his tail happily, barks once, and trots down the right-hand path. he stops after about 10 feet and looks back at them expectantly." as she says this, marian looks at the others expectantly.
"guess the nice thing to do would be to follow the dog, huh?"
Trotter takes his Martin backpacker guitar and strums a chord.
follow the dog
follow him right
into the fog
into the night
follow him now
follow him true
be nice to him
whatever you do!
"hmph."
"hey, danny! what's on the menu tonight?"
danny blake handed him a pint of Bass and said, "kimchi fried rice."
gavin nodded his approval as he picked up the beer, lifting it to toast the Pub proprietor, and turns to walk back to join the regulars. he groans as he sees the Dungeon Master screen spread before marian, the others sitting around her.
"Dungeons & Dragons again?! i thought that chapter was over."
marian pointed at his chair with authority. "sit! we didn't do anything last time! all we did was introduce the characters. you start your adventure tonight!"
he settled in between the sisters charles. "okay, let's get this over with. who do i kill?"
"shush!" marian shushed him. "now, Lord Beardhead has final instructions for you."
she cleared her throat, then squinted her eyes, puffed out her cheeks, and crunched her lips up right under her nose. in a gruff yet lifting voice she said, "adventurers, you have a perilous quest before you. succeed and bring the Bludhammer to me, and i will reward you handsomely. fail, and...well, die." she looked at them individually, holding each in her gaze for an almost uncomfortable period before moving to the next. "one last piece of advice before you go: be nice to dog."
with that, Lord Beardhead gives a sign and the great oaken doors of his manor slam shut, leaving them outside.
"wait...what?"
"'be nice to dog?!' what the hell does that mean?"
"why wouldn't i be nice to dogs? why would anyone not be nice to dogs?"
"well, there are dogs...and then there are dogs."
"spoken like a cat person!"
"let's just get going, shall we?" gavin grumbled.
marian poked him with a telescopic backscratcher with a clawed hand on the end. "you're a halfling! you need to speak with a higher voice. roleplay!"
"ow! put that thing away!"
poke.
"dammit--"
poke.
Malifox pulls on his arm and grows deeply. "this way, puny!"
sierra giggled and gavin was about to say something inappropriate when danny placed a steaming bowl of kimchi fried rice in front of him. "eat up, bilbo. you'll need your strength."
before he could retort Jinkster said, "hey, chaps. with my keen hunter senses, i...um...sense a fork in the road ahead and a large shaggy dog standing before it."
"a dog, you say?" Trotter said, putting his hand above his eyes to look ahead. "i am blessed with keen eyesight from my elven kin. the dog is black, with splotches of white. friendly looking."
marian beamed at him. "good, good! now you're into the spirit of it. now, you approach the dog and see him standing in the middle of the path, right before it splits into two directions. a sign behind has an arrow pointing to the left with the word 'Elsinore.' the arrow to the right says 'Cemetery.'"
gavin stops shoveling fried rice into his mouth just long enough to gesture to the left with his chopsticks. "to the left. let's go."
marian scowls at him and rolls a die. she looks at the result, consults her papers, rolls two more dice, shakes her head, then says "as you start to walk down the left-hand path, the dog leaps and snaps at your throat, gashing it open, your blood gushing out fiercely. you gasp, press your fingers against the wound, but it splatters out about them. you take 25 points of damage."
"WHAT?!" gavin drops his sticks and foxy grabs his arms instinctively. the others look at gavin, petrified. "i only have 12 hit points!"
"what's your constitution?"
"um....14."
marian softens her voice. "Garvin Sweaterbearer is unconscious and barely alive. all of you suddenly realize just how perilous this adventure is. this is no walking party through hobbiton. it is serious business! now, be very careful with your next actions. think!"
"wtf?!"
"okay, okay everyone. calm down. we can figure this out," Mysterious Lurker emits a calming, light blue mist around them.
"i'm a cleric, i'll heal him," Seyarrah of the Seven Seas informed them. "um...." she raises one of gavin's chopsticks into the air. "Septima, i call upon your grace to restore the health of this tempestuous halfling...and perhaps bump up his charisma stats a little bit while you're at it."
gavin glared at her and snatched his chopstick from her hand.
"good call, Seyarrah," marian praised her. "now, roll 3d6."
"what's that mean?"
"roll three 6-sided dice, then add up the result. that will be the amount of points that you heal Garvin."
"oh, got it." Seyarrah nodded and rolled her 3d6. "yay, 14!"
"good! that restores Garvin to consciousness, but he's still in bad shape."
"give me a healing potion, dammit!"
"3d4."
gavin grumbles, picking around the funny dice to find three of the pyramid-shaped ones and rolls. "um....7. that's better. why'd that dog bite me?!"
"the dwarf--he said 'be nice to dog,' remember?" Mysterious Lurker pointed out. "You started walking off without acknowledging him."
foxy lowers her voice and says, "Malifox reaches down into her bag and pulls out a thick, raw steak and tosses it to the dog. 'here you go, buddy. this will taste a lot better than hobbit.'"
gavin glared while marian nodded and told Malifox to make a persuasion roll and add her charisma score to it. Malifox rolls her d20 and says, "15!"
marian starts making nom nom noises. "the dog tears into the steak, wolfing it down."
"shouldn't he be dogging it down? he's not a wolf, right?"
marian looks at taylor and growls until he raises his hands defensively. "sorry, just a little humor."
"the dog wags his tail happily, barks once, and trots down the right-hand path. he stops after about 10 feet and looks back at them expectantly." as she says this, marian looks at the others expectantly.
"guess the nice thing to do would be to follow the dog, huh?"
Trotter takes his Martin backpacker guitar and strums a chord.
follow the dog
follow him right
into the fog
into the night
follow him now
follow him true
be nice to him
whatever you do!
"hmph."
Sunday, February 11, 2018
+6 to Dexterity (or, as some call it, Manipulation)
gavin cardigan walked into the Pub and hung his raincoat and fedora on the wooden pegs next to the door.
"danny, tell me you've got something fantastic that will make me forget all about this soggy weather," he said to his good friend and bartender and chef.
"i've got just the thing," danny blake told him as he pulled a pint of guinness for his best customer. "a pho-rench dip. 50% pho, 50% french dip sandwich, 200% awesomesauce."
"awesomesauce? that sounds like a marian word, but sounds totes delish. wait, totes?! now i'm doing it!"
he tilts the side of his head and pounds lightly as if to dump out excess marian-ness from his brain and walks back to join the regulars. he finds several tables pushed together and marian herself sitting at the head with a 1-foot tall, tri-panel screen in front of her. the others are sitting around with pencils, paper, and odd-looking dice.
his pace slows as realization sets in.
"don't tell me you're all playing dungeons & dragons," he groaned.
"so are you, cardigan," sierra charlie pats the chair next to her. "we've already created a character for you. a rogue!"
"i'm not play--"
cardigan is interrupted by the running approach of a breathless foxy charles, who gives gavin a quick peck on the cheek as she settles into place.
"you haven't started yet, have you? i'm so excited!" she turns to gavin. "i'm going to be a fighter! what are you playing?"
"i...uh...," gavin stammers and grabs at the paper that jasper ffoote slides over to him with a wink. "a...a rogue. you know, 'cause i'm used to working in the shadows and uncovering secrets."
"okay, okay, everyone listen up!" marian raps on the table with her pencil. "i'll be the DM tonight. this adventure is called 'Peril in Elsinore,' in honor of our friend shakespeare's setting for Hamlet. all of you have been invited to a special dinner with Lord Beardhead, the Dwarven Lord of the Kronen Fjords."
"Beardhead? shouldn't it be Beardface or Beardchin or something like that?"
"shush!" marian scowled and continued. "you have never met one another before, but you each have your own reason to answer a summons from Lord Beardhead. after a lavish dinner, you sit around drinking tea, ale, or brandy, nibbling on cheese and nuts. he tells you that he had finally deciphered the runes of an ancient manuscript that reveals that the Bludhammer, long-lost symbol of House Beardhead, lies hidden in a chamber beneath the ruins of Castle Elsinore to the north. however, the castle has been abandoned and haunted for centuries. it will take a mighty party of warriors to retrieve it, which is why he has summoned you. with your combination of skills and abilities, he is certain that you can achieve success. plus, you are the only people he can trust not to betray him. he will give you gold and let you equip yourselves with the best armor and weaponry he can provide."
marian looked at each of them with a grin.
"now, introduce yourselves to each other. taylor, you go first."
taylor darts his eyes suspicoiusly around the group assembled. "i am Count Russert de Lioncourt, an elven vampire from the east."
"taylor, vampire is not a class in D&D!" marian scolded him.
"i'm over 1200 years old," taylor continues, undaunted. "my elven blood allows me to be active in daylight, unlike others of my kind. i can turn into either a wolf or a bat as needed. my fangs are indestructible, and i also carry a rapier. my cloak grants me invisibility and was a gift from Lord Beardhead. it is beyond price."
"okay, i'll treat you like a druid," marian decided. "tucker?"
the lanky folksinger strummed a chord. "i am a half-elven bard named Trotter. i can sing songs and recite verses that will either inspire or heal my comrades-in-arms or confound our enemies."
"the latter i can definitely believe," gavin muttered as danny delivered the mouth-watering sandwich.
"Lord Beardhead is a Patron of the Arts and provided me with funds so i could hone my craft. i'm also handy with a crossbow."
"i am the Mysterious Lurker," said a mysterious voice from the figure lurking behind a purple mist in front of one of the chairs. "i am a half-demon tiefling sorceress. i can cast illusions that will leave you questioning your senses, and can also use magic as a weapon. Lord Beardhead protected my family from the locals when we moved to this land, and we owe him a debt of gratitude."
"yay!" marian applauded. "you're a natural roleplayer! sierra, who are you?"
"i am Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric who has sailed the...um....seven seas, serving Septima, the Goddess of the...um...Seven Seas," sierra read from her script, arching an eyebrow at marian who nodded at her encouragingly. "our ship was recently besieged by vicious pirates and we would have been slaughtered had not a flotilla of warships commissioned by Lord Beardhead not come to our rescue, so now i serve Septima and Lord Beardhead."
"and i am Jinkster Wildffoote," the tallish lad next to sierra. "i am a human ranger of the wild, an expert hunter and tracker. my parents were haunted and driven insane by spirits from the beyond, and i have devoted my life to studying their ways and ridding this land of their presence. since Castle Elsinore is full of these foul undead creatures," he casts a bright yet distrustful eye at the vampire, "Lord Beardhead knows that i need no other motivation to fulfill my part in this quest."
sierra nodded admirably at her decidedly normally hue-skinned beau, then turned to her sister. "what about you, foxy?"
foxy stood tall and straight and fixed every with an evil glare. "i am Malifox. my last name is unimportant. i am an half-orc--"
gavin bit his tongue and swore. "a half-orc?!"
she fixed him with a playful stare. "and don't you forget it! i am a fighter, very strong and almost 7-feet tall, my greenish-grey skin covered with the scars of many battles. i do not trust elves or half-elves, and barely tolerate humans. dwarves i detest, but i will fulfill my role in this...affair. the reason why is of no concern to anyone but Beardhead and myself. as for halflings...i only notice them when i step on them."
this earned a few guffaws around the table.
"what?" gavin asked, wiping his drippy chin.
"your turn," marian poked him. "introduce yourself."
he picked up the paper and started reading. "i am, um, Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue--wait, a halfling?! i don't think so!"
"gavin, you have to be! you were last and there has to be a halfling. plus, they make great rogues because of their bonus to dexterity."
"i am not a hobbit!"
"nobody said you were a hobbit, gavin! it's just a game. come on, roleplaying is fun. rogues are very mysterious and can do all kinds of cool things," foxy coaxed him.
"okay, okay," he said resignedly. "i, uh, am an accomplished thief and good at detecting traps. i got good at it because once i failed to detect a trap and was poisoned. Lord Beardhead alone has the antidote, and i must return to him once a month for a dosage or i will die. however, it has made me immune to other poisons. i carry several daggers, included one that is dipped in poison, and a shortbow--"
"very short," taylor shickered.
gavin glared at him. "and a quiver of arrows, some of which are tipped with poison and other substances, like holy water."
taylor gulped and accidently knocked over his beer glass which, fortunately, was almost empty and he was able to sop up the mess with a cocktail napkin.
"this is gonna be so cool!"
"this might be cool."
"doesn't anyone play chess anymore?"
"danny, tell me you've got something fantastic that will make me forget all about this soggy weather," he said to his good friend and bartender and chef.
"i've got just the thing," danny blake told him as he pulled a pint of guinness for his best customer. "a pho-rench dip. 50% pho, 50% french dip sandwich, 200% awesomesauce."
"awesomesauce? that sounds like a marian word, but sounds totes delish. wait, totes?! now i'm doing it!"
he tilts the side of his head and pounds lightly as if to dump out excess marian-ness from his brain and walks back to join the regulars. he finds several tables pushed together and marian herself sitting at the head with a 1-foot tall, tri-panel screen in front of her. the others are sitting around with pencils, paper, and odd-looking dice.
his pace slows as realization sets in.
"don't tell me you're all playing dungeons & dragons," he groaned.
"so are you, cardigan," sierra charlie pats the chair next to her. "we've already created a character for you. a rogue!"
"i'm not play--"
cardigan is interrupted by the running approach of a breathless foxy charles, who gives gavin a quick peck on the cheek as she settles into place.
"you haven't started yet, have you? i'm so excited!" she turns to gavin. "i'm going to be a fighter! what are you playing?"
"i...uh...," gavin stammers and grabs at the paper that jasper ffoote slides over to him with a wink. "a...a rogue. you know, 'cause i'm used to working in the shadows and uncovering secrets."
"okay, okay, everyone listen up!" marian raps on the table with her pencil. "i'll be the DM tonight. this adventure is called 'Peril in Elsinore,' in honor of our friend shakespeare's setting for Hamlet. all of you have been invited to a special dinner with Lord Beardhead, the Dwarven Lord of the Kronen Fjords."
"Beardhead? shouldn't it be Beardface or Beardchin or something like that?"
"shush!" marian scowled and continued. "you have never met one another before, but you each have your own reason to answer a summons from Lord Beardhead. after a lavish dinner, you sit around drinking tea, ale, or brandy, nibbling on cheese and nuts. he tells you that he had finally deciphered the runes of an ancient manuscript that reveals that the Bludhammer, long-lost symbol of House Beardhead, lies hidden in a chamber beneath the ruins of Castle Elsinore to the north. however, the castle has been abandoned and haunted for centuries. it will take a mighty party of warriors to retrieve it, which is why he has summoned you. with your combination of skills and abilities, he is certain that you can achieve success. plus, you are the only people he can trust not to betray him. he will give you gold and let you equip yourselves with the best armor and weaponry he can provide."
marian looked at each of them with a grin.
"now, introduce yourselves to each other. taylor, you go first."
taylor darts his eyes suspicoiusly around the group assembled. "i am Count Russert de Lioncourt, an elven vampire from the east."
"taylor, vampire is not a class in D&D!" marian scolded him.
"i'm over 1200 years old," taylor continues, undaunted. "my elven blood allows me to be active in daylight, unlike others of my kind. i can turn into either a wolf or a bat as needed. my fangs are indestructible, and i also carry a rapier. my cloak grants me invisibility and was a gift from Lord Beardhead. it is beyond price."
"okay, i'll treat you like a druid," marian decided. "tucker?"
the lanky folksinger strummed a chord. "i am a half-elven bard named Trotter. i can sing songs and recite verses that will either inspire or heal my comrades-in-arms or confound our enemies."
"the latter i can definitely believe," gavin muttered as danny delivered the mouth-watering sandwich.
"Lord Beardhead is a Patron of the Arts and provided me with funds so i could hone my craft. i'm also handy with a crossbow."
"i am the Mysterious Lurker," said a mysterious voice from the figure lurking behind a purple mist in front of one of the chairs. "i am a half-demon tiefling sorceress. i can cast illusions that will leave you questioning your senses, and can also use magic as a weapon. Lord Beardhead protected my family from the locals when we moved to this land, and we owe him a debt of gratitude."
"yay!" marian applauded. "you're a natural roleplayer! sierra, who are you?"
"i am Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric who has sailed the...um....seven seas, serving Septima, the Goddess of the...um...Seven Seas," sierra read from her script, arching an eyebrow at marian who nodded at her encouragingly. "our ship was recently besieged by vicious pirates and we would have been slaughtered had not a flotilla of warships commissioned by Lord Beardhead not come to our rescue, so now i serve Septima and Lord Beardhead."
"and i am Jinkster Wildffoote," the tallish lad next to sierra. "i am a human ranger of the wild, an expert hunter and tracker. my parents were haunted and driven insane by spirits from the beyond, and i have devoted my life to studying their ways and ridding this land of their presence. since Castle Elsinore is full of these foul undead creatures," he casts a bright yet distrustful eye at the vampire, "Lord Beardhead knows that i need no other motivation to fulfill my part in this quest."
sierra nodded admirably at her decidedly normally hue-skinned beau, then turned to her sister. "what about you, foxy?"
foxy stood tall and straight and fixed every with an evil glare. "i am Malifox. my last name is unimportant. i am an half-orc--"
gavin bit his tongue and swore. "a half-orc?!"
she fixed him with a playful stare. "and don't you forget it! i am a fighter, very strong and almost 7-feet tall, my greenish-grey skin covered with the scars of many battles. i do not trust elves or half-elves, and barely tolerate humans. dwarves i detest, but i will fulfill my role in this...affair. the reason why is of no concern to anyone but Beardhead and myself. as for halflings...i only notice them when i step on them."
this earned a few guffaws around the table.
"what?" gavin asked, wiping his drippy chin.
"your turn," marian poked him. "introduce yourself."
he picked up the paper and started reading. "i am, um, Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue--wait, a halfling?! i don't think so!"
"gavin, you have to be! you were last and there has to be a halfling. plus, they make great rogues because of their bonus to dexterity."
"i am not a hobbit!"
"nobody said you were a hobbit, gavin! it's just a game. come on, roleplaying is fun. rogues are very mysterious and can do all kinds of cool things," foxy coaxed him.
"okay, okay," he said resignedly. "i, uh, am an accomplished thief and good at detecting traps. i got good at it because once i failed to detect a trap and was poisoned. Lord Beardhead alone has the antidote, and i must return to him once a month for a dosage or i will die. however, it has made me immune to other poisons. i carry several daggers, included one that is dipped in poison, and a shortbow--"
"very short," taylor shickered.
gavin glared at him. "and a quiver of arrows, some of which are tipped with poison and other substances, like holy water."
taylor gulped and accidently knocked over his beer glass which, fortunately, was almost empty and he was able to sop up the mess with a cocktail napkin.
"this is gonna be so cool!"
"this might be cool."
"doesn't anyone play chess anymore?"
Sunday, March 18, 2012
the search for the great burkie
Gavin Cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub. "Anything for supper tonight, Danny?"
Danny Blake scowled at Gavin and turned his attention to sweeping debris off the floor. "No kitchen, no food, Gavin. We're still cleaning up the mess Carlotta 2.0 left behind. Who knew that kicking someone out of the pub could be so explosive?"
Gavin nodded sympathetically. "Well, my vote was for someone else, but our dear creator had no interest in listening to me! Speaking of whom... where is he?"
Danny glanced up surprised, "Huh? Wait... What's going on? What are all these capital letters doing at the beginning of sentences?"
Gavin scanned the mostly empty pub. Only a handful of the regulars were around. Sierra Charlie frantically gestured her hands in the air with her cellphone plastered to her head. Taylor Young swept circles around the Mysterious Lurker and Marian Elfman, who were standing by the only furniture in the pub, a makeshift table created of leftover pieces from Danny's bar and an upside down garbage can. Gavin walked over to Marian and the Lurker, who were huddled over Marian's smartphone.
"What are you guys doing?" Gavin asked.
"We're trying to see if we can GPS track Burkie," the Lurker responded.
"And I'm filling in on the blog, too," Marian added. "I wanted to make sure that anyone trying to locate any loved ones who were at the pub last week could do so by checking in on the pub's blog page... I was going to set up a Twitter account, but I knew Burkie would feel uneasy about entering new social media worlds, so we're sticking with the blog for now."
Gavin looked relieved to have solved one mystery. "So who else have you heard from? Is everyone okay?"
Marian switched the screen on her smartphone to a spreadsheet. "Sierra is currently going through her phonebook checking in on everyone. So far she's been able to make contact with Foxy..." Gavin gave a huge sigh of relief. Marian looked up and snickered. "Linda, Tucker, the Lurker, Taylor, me, Danny... And now you're here, so she won't have to call you next!"
Gavin started, "Hey, I don't even make top 5?!"
Marian glared at Gavin. "Don't be so childish. We have more important matters at hand! Where's Burkie???"
Gavin looked sheepish. "You're right, you're right. I'll get on the case!"
The Lurker jumped in, "Hey, do you think we need time machines to find him? I never did get to travel in my hot tub time machine."
Gavin glared at her, "Like you helped all that much last time! And no! Of course we don't need time machines! At least I don't think we do..."
Marian intervened, "Okay guys, let's focus here! The last anyone heard from Burkie was about beef. Maybe the beef can lead us to him."
Gavin declared, "As the premier investigator in this pub, I am officially on the case. To the beef!"
(To be continued... Maybe.)
Thursday, July 14, 2011
The Bird Is The Word, Part The Second
((if you haven't read Part the First, read this chapter first))
"so, hep. has anybody figured it out yet?" burkie asked his special assistant.
"no," s.a. hepzibah told him. "AND DON'T CALL ME HEP!!!"
"looks like your readership of five may have shrunk even fewer, burkie," cardigan smirked.
burkie fixed his disagreeable protagonist with a stare. "without readers, there's no blog. with no blog, there's no cardigan."
"um...perhaps they're on summer vacation," cardigan suggested meekly.
"or busy with summer activities," sierra put in hastily.
"we can figure this out ourselves," marian stated confidently. "let's look at the first clue again!"
Mr. Monotone: oh, i wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder who-who-who-who who wrote the book of love?
"honey, didn't you say you know something about this?" linda asked her boyfriend, tucker.
the folksinger nodded. "The Monotones had a song in the '50s called The Book of Love. the bird quotes the signature line, but in the original they only said wonder twice. this bird says it, what, seven times?"
marian typed s-e-v-e-n w-o-n-d-e-r-s into her laptop then yelped. "oh! oh! oh! seven wonders! the seven wonders of the ancient world!"
"very good, marian!" sierra told her.
after a short victory dance in her seat and a thank you to tucker for the assist, marian brought forward the next clue:
Winston Churchill: what's a bloody englishman doing with a bloody flashlight?
"taylor," burkie turned toward to clumsy vampire-wannabe. "you're supposed to be british. what does that mean?"
"cor blimey, i don't know," taylor ran his fingers through his hair. "except that an englishman would call it a torch, not a flashlight."
"that's true," cardigan looked impressed. "that might be it, taylor. what's the next clue, marian?"
Hannah Graham: sure, i know that song. old bar hit.
"i've never heard of Hannah Graham. who is she?" s.a. hepzibah asked.
sierra snapped her fingers. "anagram! Hannah Graham sounds like anagram! we need to figure out an anagram for 'old bar hit."
"bridal hot!"
"broad hilt!"
"loath bird!"
"bart hold i!"
marian typed in all the possibilities. "okay, next!"
Bertrand Russell: this is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must zip over to the village of great neck!
"the first part of that is an actual bertrand russell quote," foxy noted. "the original runs thus: This is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must learn not to be frightened by absurdities."
"so what's all that about the village of great neck?" taylor wondered.
"easy," said cardigan. "the bird used the word zip. marian, what's the zip code for the village of great neck?"
marian ran a query on her laptop. "11023."
"but notice how the bird emphasizes the word patently," mr. franklin pointed out. "do you think that's important?"
"maybe 11023 is a patent number," danny suggested.
"you're doing well, guys," burkie nodded. "i'm proud of ya! what's next, marian?"
Robert Downey, Jr.: i know what dude i am. i'm the dude playing the dude disguised as another dude.
"that's from the movie Tropic Thunder," taylor reminded them. "ducky, what was the name of downy's character in that movie?"
"kirk lazarus," marian typed it in. "okay, last one!"
Joan Dunn: it takes a woman to be one of these; no man can handle it.
"no man can handle it," judge st. bishop mused. "no man...no man...no man is an island. isn't that a john donne quote? it has a metaphysical feel to it."
"and john donne sounds like joan dunn," hepzibah pointed out. "so...a woman is an island?"
"spell it all out for us, marian" burkie ordered.
"yes, sir!"
Seven Wonders
Torch
Bart Hold I
Patent 11023
Lazarus
Island
they all looked at each other and groaned. "of course! how stupid are we!"
"here it is," marian pulled the poem up on her laptop. "let's all read it together now, quickly!"
they all read the poem out loud together. as soon as they were done, the Mysterious Lurker popped in.
"about time!" she muttered. "but thank you! it really is a poor poem, you know. am i allowed to say that?"
"you are uniquely qualified to say that," danny assured her as her gave her a quick hug. "come on, i'll fix you some tea."
"great job, everyone! high five!" burkie put his hand out toward marian and pulled it away just as she extended hers.
"psych!"
words cannot described the face that marian made at this gesture.
"so, hep. has anybody figured it out yet?" burkie asked his special assistant.
"no," s.a. hepzibah told him. "AND DON'T CALL ME HEP!!!"
"looks like your readership of five may have shrunk even fewer, burkie," cardigan smirked.
burkie fixed his disagreeable protagonist with a stare. "without readers, there's no blog. with no blog, there's no cardigan."
"um...perhaps they're on summer vacation," cardigan suggested meekly.
"or busy with summer activities," sierra put in hastily.
"we can figure this out ourselves," marian stated confidently. "let's look at the first clue again!"
Mr. Monotone: oh, i wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder who-who-who-who who wrote the book of love?
"honey, didn't you say you know something about this?" linda asked her boyfriend, tucker.
the folksinger nodded. "The Monotones had a song in the '50s called The Book of Love. the bird quotes the signature line, but in the original they only said wonder twice. this bird says it, what, seven times?"
marian typed s-e-v-e-n w-o-n-d-e-r-s into her laptop then yelped. "oh! oh! oh! seven wonders! the seven wonders of the ancient world!"
"very good, marian!" sierra told her.
after a short victory dance in her seat and a thank you to tucker for the assist, marian brought forward the next clue:
Winston Churchill: what's a bloody englishman doing with a bloody flashlight?
"taylor," burkie turned toward to clumsy vampire-wannabe. "you're supposed to be british. what does that mean?"
"cor blimey, i don't know," taylor ran his fingers through his hair. "except that an englishman would call it a torch, not a flashlight."
"that's true," cardigan looked impressed. "that might be it, taylor. what's the next clue, marian?"
Hannah Graham: sure, i know that song. old bar hit.
"i've never heard of Hannah Graham. who is she?" s.a. hepzibah asked.
sierra snapped her fingers. "anagram! Hannah Graham sounds like anagram! we need to figure out an anagram for 'old bar hit."
"bridal hot!"
"broad hilt!"
"loath bird!"
"bart hold i!"
marian typed in all the possibilities. "okay, next!"
Bertrand Russell: this is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must zip over to the village of great neck!
"the first part of that is an actual bertrand russell quote," foxy noted. "the original runs thus: This is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must learn not to be frightened by absurdities."
"so what's all that about the village of great neck?" taylor wondered.
"easy," said cardigan. "the bird used the word zip. marian, what's the zip code for the village of great neck?"
marian ran a query on her laptop. "11023."
"but notice how the bird emphasizes the word patently," mr. franklin pointed out. "do you think that's important?"
"maybe 11023 is a patent number," danny suggested.
"you're doing well, guys," burkie nodded. "i'm proud of ya! what's next, marian?"
Robert Downey, Jr.: i know what dude i am. i'm the dude playing the dude disguised as another dude.
"that's from the movie Tropic Thunder," taylor reminded them. "ducky, what was the name of downy's character in that movie?"
"kirk lazarus," marian typed it in. "okay, last one!"
Joan Dunn: it takes a woman to be one of these; no man can handle it.
"no man can handle it," judge st. bishop mused. "no man...no man...no man is an island. isn't that a john donne quote? it has a metaphysical feel to it."
"and john donne sounds like joan dunn," hepzibah pointed out. "so...a woman is an island?"
"spell it all out for us, marian" burkie ordered.
"yes, sir!"
Seven Wonders
Torch
Bart Hold I
Patent 11023
Lazarus
Island
they all looked at each other and groaned. "of course! how stupid are we!"
"here it is," marian pulled the poem up on her laptop. "let's all read it together now, quickly!"
they all read the poem out loud together. as soon as they were done, the Mysterious Lurker popped in.
"about time!" she muttered. "but thank you! it really is a poor poem, you know. am i allowed to say that?"
"you are uniquely qualified to say that," danny assured her as her gave her a quick hug. "come on, i'll fix you some tea."
"great job, everyone! high five!" burkie put his hand out toward marian and pulled it away just as she extended hers.
"psych!"
words cannot described the face that marian made at this gesture.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
The Bird Is The Word, Part The First
gavin cardigan walked into Poor Yorick's Pub, hung his fedora on a peg, and said hello to his buddy danny blake behind the bar.
"hello yourself," danny replied as he poured a beer and handed it to cardigan. "i'm serving totchos tonight. interested?"
"if you're making 'em, i'm eating 'em, but what the hell are totchos?"
"nachos made with tater tots instead of tortilla chips," danny explained with a grin.
"pure genius," cardigan raised his glass in praise. "bring 'em on!"
cardigan took his beer back to his customary table to join his friends and stopped short. "um, whose bird?"
the bird, which appeared to be a brightly colored parrot, looked at cardigan and squawked, "oh, i wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder who-who-who-who who wrote the book of love?"
cardigan looked at the others, raising an eyebrow.
"it just appeared here," taylor young explained with a shrug. "a tag on the cage said 'Mr. Monotone.'"
"he stutters. who ever heard of a stuttering parrot?"
"i have," came an authoritative voice behind them. cardigan groaned as their handsome creator approached.
"burkie, is this your parrot?" sierra charles asked.
"i'm afraid not," burkie shook his head. "i think he was sent by my arch nemesis."
"you have an arch nemesis?" danny sounded dubious as he delivered cardigan's totchos. "why?"
"yes, his name is archibald knemesis," burkie told them as he plucked a tater tot off of the plate.
"of course it is," cardigan muttered as he moved his plate out of burkie's reach, only to have sierra snag another tot.
"he sent me an email saying that he has trapped the Lurker," burkie told them.
"what?!" marian exclaimed. "where? we have to rescue her!"
"don't worry," burkie said calmly. "like all arch nemesises...nemeses..nemesii...villains, knemesis goes to complicated extremes to show off how clever he is, which will always be his downfall. now, he explained that the only way to release the Lurker is for all of us to read where she's trapped at the same time."
"but where's she trapped?" danny sounded worried, despite burkie's confidence.
"knemesis said it might be a book, a play, a poem, or a song, but six blasts from my past would lead us to her." burkie pointed at the parrot. "and there is the first blast."
"a stuttering parrot?"
burkie nodded. "knemesis must know that one of my favorite books ever is The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot, book 2 in The Three Investigators series. if i'm right, there will be more parrots."
as if on cue, judge st. bishop walked in carrying a bird cage with a grey bird inside. "hey, what's going on here? i was sent this bird and told to come here."
"does he say anything?" danny asked.
the bird himself replied. "what's a bloody englishman doing with a bloody flashlight?"
"what the hell is that supposed to mean?" cardigan wondered.
the judge shrugged. "beats me. the tag on the cage says Winston Churchill."
tucker and linda nulo walked in next, carrying another cage.
"does that bird say anything?" sierra asked before they could say anything.
they nodded and the bird spoke: "sure, i know that song. old bar hit."
marian was typing the words into her laptop. "what's the bird's name?"
"Hannah Graham," linda told her. "what's this all about?"
"Mysterious Lurker has been kidnapped...er, lurknapped," taylor tried to explain.
"that's three birds," cardigan noted and looked toward the door. "foxy!"
sierra's sister walked in with another cage. "hey, guys. somebody delivered this bird--"
"we know," sierra told her. "burkie's arch nemesis had the Lurker trapped and the birds have clues to help us rescue her. what does your bird say?"
"this is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must zip over to the village of great neck!" the bird told them.
"weird," cardigan murmured. "but at least it mentioned a place; that gives us something to work on. what's the bird's name, foxy?"
"Bertrand Russell."
"that's the second brit, counting Winston Churchill," sierra pointed out. "i wonder if that means anything?"
"i don't know," marian shook her head. "i've never heard of a Hannah Graham or Mr. Monotone before."
"Mr. Monotone is a reference to--" tucker started to explain but was interrupted by the entrance of founding father benjamin franklin, carrying a cage with a black mynah bird inside.
"the most extraordinary thing has happened!" mr. franklin told them. "i was given this bird and a note to come here. just listen to him talk!"
"i know what dude i am. i'm the dude playing the dude disguised as another dude," the bird exclaimed.
"i've heard that before!" taylor said excitedly. "roberty downy, jr. said that in that movie where he was playing an australian actor who was playing a black man in a movie."
cardigan looked pained. "as if this thing wasn't confusing enough as it is."
mr. franklin nodded. "that's the name on the cage--Robert Downey, Jr."
"that leaves only one bird," marian observed. "i wonder who has it?"
they all looked toward the door and, sure enough, somebody walked in carrying a bird cage. it was special assistant hepzibah, burkie's special assistant.
"hepzibah, thank goodness you're here," burkie told her. "what's your bird's name and what does he say?"
"it's not a he, it's a she of the species," hepzibah explained. "her name is Joan Dunn."
the bird shook her wings and said, "it takes a woman to be one of these; no man can handle it."
sierra snorted. "that doesn't narrow it down much at all."
marian snickered. "you snorted!"
sierra glared at burkie. "i don't snort, burkie! change that, now!"
burkie glowered. "we don't have time for that, sierra. we have to find the Lurker. marian, list all the clues again for us."
Mr. Monotone: oh, i wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder who-who-who-who who wrote the book of love?
Winston Churchill: what's a bloody englishman doing with a bloody flashlight?
Hannah Graham: sure, i know that song. old bar hit.
Bertrand Russell: this is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must zip over to the village of great neck!
Robert Downey, Jr.: i know what dude i am. i'm the dude playing the dude disguised as another dude.
Joan Dunn: it takes a woman to be one of these; no man can handle it.
"right. now, these clues are supposed to tell us where the Lurker is stuck. any ideas? anybody?" burkie looked around but nobody had anything to offer.
"okay, let's ask for help," burkie decided. "dear readers, if you know where the Lurker is trapped, please email me at burkie47 -at- gmail -dot- com. if you can tell me what each clue means and the book or song or play or poem in which the Lurker is trapped, you'll win something. okay? thanks for your help, and happy solving! oh, and don't leave any spoilers in the comments!"
"hello yourself," danny replied as he poured a beer and handed it to cardigan. "i'm serving totchos tonight. interested?"
"if you're making 'em, i'm eating 'em, but what the hell are totchos?"
"nachos made with tater tots instead of tortilla chips," danny explained with a grin.
"pure genius," cardigan raised his glass in praise. "bring 'em on!"
cardigan took his beer back to his customary table to join his friends and stopped short. "um, whose bird?"
the bird, which appeared to be a brightly colored parrot, looked at cardigan and squawked, "oh, i wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder who-who-who-who who wrote the book of love?"
cardigan looked at the others, raising an eyebrow.
"it just appeared here," taylor young explained with a shrug. "a tag on the cage said 'Mr. Monotone.'"
"he stutters. who ever heard of a stuttering parrot?"
"i have," came an authoritative voice behind them. cardigan groaned as their handsome creator approached.
"burkie, is this your parrot?" sierra charles asked.
"i'm afraid not," burkie shook his head. "i think he was sent by my arch nemesis."
"you have an arch nemesis?" danny sounded dubious as he delivered cardigan's totchos. "why?"
"yes, his name is archibald knemesis," burkie told them as he plucked a tater tot off of the plate.
"of course it is," cardigan muttered as he moved his plate out of burkie's reach, only to have sierra snag another tot.
"he sent me an email saying that he has trapped the Lurker," burkie told them.
"what?!" marian exclaimed. "where? we have to rescue her!"
"don't worry," burkie said calmly. "like all arch nemesises...nemeses..nemesii...villains, knemesis goes to complicated extremes to show off how clever he is, which will always be his downfall. now, he explained that the only way to release the Lurker is for all of us to read where she's trapped at the same time."
"but where's she trapped?" danny sounded worried, despite burkie's confidence.
"knemesis said it might be a book, a play, a poem, or a song, but six blasts from my past would lead us to her." burkie pointed at the parrot. "and there is the first blast."
"a stuttering parrot?"
burkie nodded. "knemesis must know that one of my favorite books ever is The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot, book 2 in The Three Investigators series. if i'm right, there will be more parrots."
as if on cue, judge st. bishop walked in carrying a bird cage with a grey bird inside. "hey, what's going on here? i was sent this bird and told to come here."
"does he say anything?" danny asked.
the bird himself replied. "what's a bloody englishman doing with a bloody flashlight?"
"what the hell is that supposed to mean?" cardigan wondered.
the judge shrugged. "beats me. the tag on the cage says Winston Churchill."
tucker and linda nulo walked in next, carrying another cage.
"does that bird say anything?" sierra asked before they could say anything.
they nodded and the bird spoke: "sure, i know that song. old bar hit."
marian was typing the words into her laptop. "what's the bird's name?"
"Hannah Graham," linda told her. "what's this all about?"
"Mysterious Lurker has been kidnapped...er, lurknapped," taylor tried to explain.
"that's three birds," cardigan noted and looked toward the door. "foxy!"
sierra's sister walked in with another cage. "hey, guys. somebody delivered this bird--"
"we know," sierra told her. "burkie's arch nemesis had the Lurker trapped and the birds have clues to help us rescue her. what does your bird say?"
"this is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must zip over to the village of great neck!" the bird told them.
"weird," cardigan murmured. "but at least it mentioned a place; that gives us something to work on. what's the bird's name, foxy?"
"Bertrand Russell."
"that's the second brit, counting Winston Churchill," sierra pointed out. "i wonder if that means anything?"
"i don't know," marian shook her head. "i've never heard of a Hannah Graham or Mr. Monotone before."
"Mr. Monotone is a reference to--" tucker started to explain but was interrupted by the entrance of founding father benjamin franklin, carrying a cage with a black mynah bird inside.
"the most extraordinary thing has happened!" mr. franklin told them. "i was given this bird and a note to come here. just listen to him talk!"
"i know what dude i am. i'm the dude playing the dude disguised as another dude," the bird exclaimed.
"i've heard that before!" taylor said excitedly. "roberty downy, jr. said that in that movie where he was playing an australian actor who was playing a black man in a movie."
cardigan looked pained. "as if this thing wasn't confusing enough as it is."
mr. franklin nodded. "that's the name on the cage--Robert Downey, Jr."
"that leaves only one bird," marian observed. "i wonder who has it?"
they all looked toward the door and, sure enough, somebody walked in carrying a bird cage. it was special assistant hepzibah, burkie's special assistant.
"hepzibah, thank goodness you're here," burkie told her. "what's your bird's name and what does he say?"
"it's not a he, it's a she of the species," hepzibah explained. "her name is Joan Dunn."
the bird shook her wings and said, "it takes a woman to be one of these; no man can handle it."
sierra snorted. "that doesn't narrow it down much at all."
marian snickered. "you snorted!"
sierra glared at burkie. "i don't snort, burkie! change that, now!"
burkie glowered. "we don't have time for that, sierra. we have to find the Lurker. marian, list all the clues again for us."
Mr. Monotone: oh, i wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder-wonder who-who-who-who who wrote the book of love?
Winston Churchill: what's a bloody englishman doing with a bloody flashlight?
Hannah Graham: sure, i know that song. old bar hit.
Bertrand Russell: this is patently absurd; but whoever wishes to become a philosopher must zip over to the village of great neck!
Robert Downey, Jr.: i know what dude i am. i'm the dude playing the dude disguised as another dude.
Joan Dunn: it takes a woman to be one of these; no man can handle it.
"right. now, these clues are supposed to tell us where the Lurker is stuck. any ideas? anybody?" burkie looked around but nobody had anything to offer.
"okay, let's ask for help," burkie decided. "dear readers, if you know where the Lurker is trapped, please email me at burkie47 -at- gmail -dot- com. if you can tell me what each clue means and the book or song or play or poem in which the Lurker is trapped, you'll win something. okay? thanks for your help, and happy solving! oh, and don't leave any spoilers in the comments!"
Saturday, January 1, 2011
You Say You Want A Resolution
"happy new year, danny boy!" gavin called out as he entered the Pub.
"back atcha, big guy!" danny blake replied as he poured a beer. "since it's new year's day, i'm serving black-eyed pea and chorizo soup with cornbread. sound good?"
"sounds great!" gavin took a sip from his pint then walked over to join his friends.
"happy new year, cardigan!" sierra charles greeted him.
"happy new year, everyone."
"so, how was your mystery date?" marian elfman asked gLeefully, referring to gavin's having volunteered to be auctioned off for a date at sierra's charity auction.
cardigan glared at sierra, then turned to glare at the witches across the Pub, who giggled and waved.
"i'm never doing that again. i had to pay for four meals!"
Mysterious Lurker guffawed. so help me, she guffawed. "guffaw! the witches bid on you?"
cardigan shuddered and took a large gulp of his beer. "they won. seems they have their own ideas of whom i should date and didn't want to take a chance that i'd meet somebody else."
marian hahaha'd. "hahaha! where did you eat?"
"verona."
"really? how's stoney?" danny asked about verona's 3-nostriled chef stoney karr as he delivered cardigan's soup.
"he's good. he says hello to everyone, especially you, charles," he grinned at sierra, happy to deflect attention away from himself.
"i'm glad he's doing well," sierra stated as she pinched off a corner of cardigan's cornbread.
"this soup is terrific, danny," cardigan told him as he moved the cornbread out of sierra's reach.
"burkie claims that eating black-eyed peas on new year's day brings good luck," foxy said as she walked up.
cardigan grinned, ignoring a woo-hoo from one of the witches. "looks like it's working! happy new year, foxy!"
"i didn't know you would be here today," sierra told her sister.
"that was my idea," burkie stated as he walked in, accompanied by special assistant hepzibah. "others are on their way."
"what's the occasion?" marian asked their handsome creator excitedly as juliet, judge st. bishop, boom-boom shakalaka, and benjamin franklin filed in.
"it's new year's day," burkie explained. "i wanted to see all of you again, and hear your resolutions for 2011."
"yay!" marian clapped. "i resolve to learn how to quilt!"
"really?" taylor looked at her. "why?"
"i think it'd be nice to make a nice burnt orange & white quilt for burkie! wait...why did i say that? that's not what i meant to say!" marian made an outrageous face of, er, outrage.
"why thank you, marian. that's very sweet of you," burkie smiled. "how about you, sierra?"
"i resolve to go on more blind dates," she replied immediately, then gasped. "i didn't say that! dammit, burkie, i didn't say that!"
"i resolve to make asian dumplings," danny stated.
burkie nodded his approval. "how about you, linda?"
"me?" the Pub's least developed character was surprised but eager. "i resolve to acquire a mysterious past, break my leg in a comical incident, break up with Tucker because of a dramatic misunderstanding, then make up with him again when we accidentally bump into each other in cuba, and take trapeze lessons, and learn chinese, and beat martina hingis in tennis, and--"
"i suggest you break your leg after beating martina in tennis," tucker, er, suggested. "as for me, i resolve to write a song about benjamin franklin."
"why, thank you, minstrel! that's uncommonly kind of you," the founding father beamed. "as for myself, i resolve to follow-up my invention of a time machine by inventing a vessel for keeping hot drinks hot and cold drinks cold."
"you invented a time machine?" the judge looked at him suspiciously.
"hem...haw..." mr. franklin hemmed and hawed.
burkie shot mr. franklin a warning look and asked the judge, "what is your resolution, your honor?"
"i resolve to impose longer jail sentences for plagiarists."
"um...yeah, right," burkie moved on quickly. "foxy?"
"i resolve to get our book on american culture published," foxy told him.
"excellent! juliet?"
"i resolve to launch a new shoe company that specializes in high-heeled shoes for men's feet," the crossdresser replied. "my feet are killing me!"
"i resolve to work out more," boom-boom stated, pulling her SFPD sweatshirt up enough to expose her abs. "i need more definition."
"how about you, hep?" burkie asked his special assistant. "hep? HEP?"
s.a. hepzibah blinked, then forced herself to turn away from boom-boom and answer, "i...i resolve to...to...learn to play piano. and don't call me hep!!!"
"i resolve to work on my accent," taylor noted in a not-quite-clipped british accent.
"how about you, linda?" burkie asked.
"you already asked me!" she exclaimed. "and i already answered!"
"oh, yeah. sorry, i forgot," burkie turned to shakespeare, who walked forward to collect the empty plates and glasses. "shakespeare?"
"the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," sayethed the bard as he cleared the table.
"er, right. cardigan?"
"i resolve to drink more," cardigan, er, resolved, signaling danny for another pint.
"back atcha, big guy!" danny blake replied as he poured a beer. "since it's new year's day, i'm serving black-eyed pea and chorizo soup with cornbread. sound good?"
"sounds great!" gavin took a sip from his pint then walked over to join his friends.
"happy new year, cardigan!" sierra charles greeted him.
"happy new year, everyone."
"so, how was your mystery date?" marian elfman asked gLeefully, referring to gavin's having volunteered to be auctioned off for a date at sierra's charity auction.
cardigan glared at sierra, then turned to glare at the witches across the Pub, who giggled and waved.
"i'm never doing that again. i had to pay for four meals!"
Mysterious Lurker guffawed. so help me, she guffawed. "guffaw! the witches bid on you?"
cardigan shuddered and took a large gulp of his beer. "they won. seems they have their own ideas of whom i should date and didn't want to take a chance that i'd meet somebody else."
marian hahaha'd. "hahaha! where did you eat?"
"verona."
"really? how's stoney?" danny asked about verona's 3-nostriled chef stoney karr as he delivered cardigan's soup.
"he's good. he says hello to everyone, especially you, charles," he grinned at sierra, happy to deflect attention away from himself.
"i'm glad he's doing well," sierra stated as she pinched off a corner of cardigan's cornbread.
"this soup is terrific, danny," cardigan told him as he moved the cornbread out of sierra's reach.
"burkie claims that eating black-eyed peas on new year's day brings good luck," foxy said as she walked up.
cardigan grinned, ignoring a woo-hoo from one of the witches. "looks like it's working! happy new year, foxy!"
"i didn't know you would be here today," sierra told her sister.
"that was my idea," burkie stated as he walked in, accompanied by special assistant hepzibah. "others are on their way."
"what's the occasion?" marian asked their handsome creator excitedly as juliet, judge st. bishop, boom-boom shakalaka, and benjamin franklin filed in.
"it's new year's day," burkie explained. "i wanted to see all of you again, and hear your resolutions for 2011."
"yay!" marian clapped. "i resolve to learn how to quilt!"
"really?" taylor looked at her. "why?"
"i think it'd be nice to make a nice burnt orange & white quilt for burkie! wait...why did i say that? that's not what i meant to say!" marian made an outrageous face of, er, outrage.
"why thank you, marian. that's very sweet of you," burkie smiled. "how about you, sierra?"
"i resolve to go on more blind dates," she replied immediately, then gasped. "i didn't say that! dammit, burkie, i didn't say that!"
"i resolve to make asian dumplings," danny stated.
burkie nodded his approval. "how about you, linda?"
"me?" the Pub's least developed character was surprised but eager. "i resolve to acquire a mysterious past, break my leg in a comical incident, break up with Tucker because of a dramatic misunderstanding, then make up with him again when we accidentally bump into each other in cuba, and take trapeze lessons, and learn chinese, and beat martina hingis in tennis, and--"
"i suggest you break your leg after beating martina in tennis," tucker, er, suggested. "as for me, i resolve to write a song about benjamin franklin."
"why, thank you, minstrel! that's uncommonly kind of you," the founding father beamed. "as for myself, i resolve to follow-up my invention of a time machine by inventing a vessel for keeping hot drinks hot and cold drinks cold."
"you invented a time machine?" the judge looked at him suspiciously.
"hem...haw..." mr. franklin hemmed and hawed.
burkie shot mr. franklin a warning look and asked the judge, "what is your resolution, your honor?"
"i resolve to impose longer jail sentences for plagiarists."
"um...yeah, right," burkie moved on quickly. "foxy?"
"i resolve to get our book on american culture published," foxy told him.
"excellent! juliet?"
"i resolve to launch a new shoe company that specializes in high-heeled shoes for men's feet," the crossdresser replied. "my feet are killing me!"
"i resolve to work out more," boom-boom stated, pulling her SFPD sweatshirt up enough to expose her abs. "i need more definition."
"how about you, hep?" burkie asked his special assistant. "hep? HEP?"
s.a. hepzibah blinked, then forced herself to turn away from boom-boom and answer, "i...i resolve to...to...learn to play piano. and don't call me hep!!!"
"i resolve to work on my accent," taylor noted in a not-quite-clipped british accent.
"how about you, linda?" burkie asked.
"you already asked me!" she exclaimed. "and i already answered!"
"oh, yeah. sorry, i forgot," burkie turned to shakespeare, who walked forward to collect the empty plates and glasses. "shakespeare?"
"the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," sayethed the bard as he cleared the table.
"er, right. cardigan?"
"i resolve to drink more," cardigan, er, resolved, signaling danny for another pint.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Snapshots: Academic Pursuits!
she was oblivious to the palpable thumping of every male heart in the ballroom as she strode across the floor.
"dr. charles! you look absolutely divine!"
foxy smiled at the dean of the anthropology department. "dr. dean, you're too kind. and the ballroom looks lovely! i'm so glad that we're hosting the annual conference this year. it's good publicity for the department and the school."
"dr. dean!"
the new voice was low, deep, and self-assured, and foxy found herself turning toward it the way a cobra obeys a snake charmer's flute.
"brett, my boy!" dr. dean reached out to embrace a tall young man with wavy, jet-black hair, steely grey eyes, and a noticeable scar running jaggedly from the outside corner of his left eye down toward the ear lobe. the scar enhanced rather than detracted from his primitive good looks; the broad shoulders and lean hips didn't hurt matters, either.
"dr. charles, allow me to introduce dr. brett cobalt. brett accompanied me to Papua New Guinea five years ago to help me study the wedding rituals of the aboriginal tribes there."
"enchanté," dr. cobalt bent to kiss foxy's hand but his eyes never left hers. "your work on immigrant influences on american culture is both fascinating and unprecedented."
despite being caught off-guard and more than a little breathless, foxy managed a winning smile and comeback. "but nowhere near as exciting as your recent research on the impact that illegal drug trading is having on south american farmers. very dangerous work, indeed!"
dr. cobalt ran a finger down his scar. "well, it certainly has its moments." he held out his hand. "shall we dance?"
"oh, we shall. we certainly shall!"
foxy's feet were as light as the butterflies in her stomach as the dashing dr. cobalt twirled her across the dance floor. she sensed the raw heat and strength that his body could barely contain. he was a man of action, yet also a distinguished scholar in her own field. he was her intellectual equal, but his physicality had no rival.
when the song ended, he noted, "you dance beautifully, dr. charles. would you join me for a glass of champagne?"
"i'd be delighted, dr. cobalt."
her knees weakened slightly as his hand gave hers a squeeze. she found a wall to lean against and compose herself while he walked off to find champagne. she smiled when he appeared again in front of her, a fluted glass of golden bubbles in each hand, when suddenly her arms were wrenched behind her!
"buenas noches, señor cobalt," a sinister voice behind her said.
cobalt's face hardened and his eyes gleamed like sharpened flint. foxy could sense the untamed animal inside him overtaking his scholarly veneer.
"let her go, carlos."
"why should i?" the sinister voice retorted. "your research exposed a very profitable operation for my family and caused my brother to be killed." foxy felt something cold against her face. "how is it you americans say? 'revenge is served with cold cuts?'"
foxy shook her head. "no, carlos. it's 'revenge is a dish best served cold.' it's very common for people who learn english as a second language to--"
"stop it! cierra la boca!"
cobalt took that moment to throw the champagne flutes at the sinister carlos, who took the bubbly full in the face as foxy, anticipating cobalt's move, threw herself to the side. cobalt rushed forward to grapple with the villain. they rolled back and forth across the floor, writhing and growling in a tangle of taught tendons and bloody, exposed flesh as each man had a hand on the knife and used it against the other alternatively. suddenly, carlos grinned and, releasing the knife, reached behind his back.
foxy screamed, "brett! he's got a gun!"
she saw the knife thrust down toward carlos' throat as the gun went off.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"
she rushed forward and knelt beside cobalt, rolling him off of the lifeless carlos.
"no, please...." the red froth at cobalt's mouth matched that at the wound in his chest, and she knew there was nothing anybody could do.
his flinty eyes softened as he looked into her face. he brought his fingers up to her lips. she kissed them gently and he brought them back down to his own lips as the light faded from his eyes and his chest stopped moving.
dr. dean dropped down and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. "are you okay, dr. charles?"
she nodded. "i am unharmed, dr. dean. but poor brett..."
the dean nodded. "yes, a tragedy in every sense of the word. a brilliant mind who quite literally gave his life in pursuit of greater understanding. he's an example for all of us to follow, young and old. come, let us let the authorities tend to their duties."
"let me in. i'm a doctor!" a woman with a black medical bag knelt down opposite foxy and placed her fingers against cobalt's neck. "he's still alive. here, place this over the wound!"
foxy applied the plastic sheet to the gaping chest wound and held it in place while the doctor attached strips of tape to three sides of the patch, leaving the fourth side to open.
"that's to let the bad air out, but it won't allow any bad air in," the doctor informed her. sure enough, she saw the open side flap open as cobalt exhaled, and flatten against his skin as he inhaled again.
"is he going to live?"
the doctor rolled him over on his side. "yes, i think he will. he's strong and we got to it pretty fast. now, clear the way for the paramedics."
as foxy stood to get out of the way, she realized with a blush that she seemed to have ripped her bodice somehow...
"dr. charles! you look absolutely divine!"
foxy smiled at the dean of the anthropology department. "dr. dean, you're too kind. and the ballroom looks lovely! i'm so glad that we're hosting the annual conference this year. it's good publicity for the department and the school."
"dr. dean!"
the new voice was low, deep, and self-assured, and foxy found herself turning toward it the way a cobra obeys a snake charmer's flute.
"brett, my boy!" dr. dean reached out to embrace a tall young man with wavy, jet-black hair, steely grey eyes, and a noticeable scar running jaggedly from the outside corner of his left eye down toward the ear lobe. the scar enhanced rather than detracted from his primitive good looks; the broad shoulders and lean hips didn't hurt matters, either.
"dr. charles, allow me to introduce dr. brett cobalt. brett accompanied me to Papua New Guinea five years ago to help me study the wedding rituals of the aboriginal tribes there."
"enchanté," dr. cobalt bent to kiss foxy's hand but his eyes never left hers. "your work on immigrant influences on american culture is both fascinating and unprecedented."
despite being caught off-guard and more than a little breathless, foxy managed a winning smile and comeback. "but nowhere near as exciting as your recent research on the impact that illegal drug trading is having on south american farmers. very dangerous work, indeed!"
dr. cobalt ran a finger down his scar. "well, it certainly has its moments." he held out his hand. "shall we dance?"
"oh, we shall. we certainly shall!"
foxy's feet were as light as the butterflies in her stomach as the dashing dr. cobalt twirled her across the dance floor. she sensed the raw heat and strength that his body could barely contain. he was a man of action, yet also a distinguished scholar in her own field. he was her intellectual equal, but his physicality had no rival.
when the song ended, he noted, "you dance beautifully, dr. charles. would you join me for a glass of champagne?"
"i'd be delighted, dr. cobalt."
her knees weakened slightly as his hand gave hers a squeeze. she found a wall to lean against and compose herself while he walked off to find champagne. she smiled when he appeared again in front of her, a fluted glass of golden bubbles in each hand, when suddenly her arms were wrenched behind her!
"buenas noches, señor cobalt," a sinister voice behind her said.
cobalt's face hardened and his eyes gleamed like sharpened flint. foxy could sense the untamed animal inside him overtaking his scholarly veneer.
"let her go, carlos."
"why should i?" the sinister voice retorted. "your research exposed a very profitable operation for my family and caused my brother to be killed." foxy felt something cold against her face. "how is it you americans say? 'revenge is served with cold cuts?'"
foxy shook her head. "no, carlos. it's 'revenge is a dish best served cold.' it's very common for people who learn english as a second language to--"
"stop it! cierra la boca!"
cobalt took that moment to throw the champagne flutes at the sinister carlos, who took the bubbly full in the face as foxy, anticipating cobalt's move, threw herself to the side. cobalt rushed forward to grapple with the villain. they rolled back and forth across the floor, writhing and growling in a tangle of taught tendons and bloody, exposed flesh as each man had a hand on the knife and used it against the other alternatively. suddenly, carlos grinned and, releasing the knife, reached behind his back.
foxy screamed, "brett! he's got a gun!"
she saw the knife thrust down toward carlos' throat as the gun went off.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"
she rushed forward and knelt beside cobalt, rolling him off of the lifeless carlos.
"no, please...." the red froth at cobalt's mouth matched that at the wound in his chest, and she knew there was nothing anybody could do.
his flinty eyes softened as he looked into her face. he brought his fingers up to her lips. she kissed them gently and he brought them back down to his own lips as the light faded from his eyes and his chest stopped moving.
dr. dean dropped down and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. "are you okay, dr. charles?"
she nodded. "i am unharmed, dr. dean. but poor brett..."
the dean nodded. "yes, a tragedy in every sense of the word. a brilliant mind who quite literally gave his life in pursuit of greater understanding. he's an example for all of us to follow, young and old. come, let us let the authorities tend to their duties."
"let me in. i'm a doctor!" a woman with a black medical bag knelt down opposite foxy and placed her fingers against cobalt's neck. "he's still alive. here, place this over the wound!"
foxy applied the plastic sheet to the gaping chest wound and held it in place while the doctor attached strips of tape to three sides of the patch, leaving the fourth side to open.
"that's to let the bad air out, but it won't allow any bad air in," the doctor informed her. sure enough, she saw the open side flap open as cobalt exhaled, and flatten against his skin as he inhaled again.
"is he going to live?"
the doctor rolled him over on his side. "yes, i think he will. he's strong and we got to it pretty fast. now, clear the way for the paramedics."
as foxy stood to get out of the way, she realized with a blush that she seemed to have ripped her bodice somehow...
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Choose Your Adventure!
((special thanks/blame to Mira for the story idea that follows!))
"howdy, danny boy!" gavin cardigan entered Poor Yorick's Pub and greeted the owner. "what's for supper?"
"cajun chicken pasta," danny blake replied from behind the bar, pouring an ale for his friend.
"thank you, sir," cardigan bowed. "it is an honor to dine here."
he took his ale over to join the others. "what's up, everyone?"
"hi, cardigan," sierra charles greeted him. "we were just discussing marian's latest column."
"did you get a good question?" cardigan asked marian elfman, author of the syndicated advice column "Don't Be So Melodramatic!"
"no," marian pouted. "i haven't gotten any really good questions in a long time. i may have to resort to making up my own questions."
"isn't that unethical?" linda nulo asked.
"no, not really. in fact, if it's a question that somebody is likely struggling with but is too embarrassed to ask for help, it's actually kind of a public service."
"uh-huh." cardigan sounded skeptical.
"i'm going to check my email. maybe there's a good question there." marian's fingers clicked and clacked over the keyboard of her laptop, then paused. "oh, i have an email from benjamin franklin!"
"our benjamin franklin?" judge st. bishop stormed in at that moment. "he's using email now?"
"OMG!" marian shrieked. "listen!"
Dear Marian,
I hope this electronic letter finds you well. This iPhone gadget is quite extraordinary! At any rate, I'm excited to inform you that I've made a breakthrough in my research into building a device for traveling through time! I'm talking about purposeful, controlled time travel, not randomingly popping up in somebody's Pub based on the whims of a no-talent blogger. I am about to embark on my first journey. Wish me luck! I'm going to Boston, Massuchessets on March 10, 1876 to witness Alexander Graham Bell as he introduces the first telephone. Honestly, the only thing he could think of to say is "Mr. Watson, come here, I want you?!" The man has no sense of the moment!
The point of my letter, however, is to let you know my intentions. If you do not receive another electronic letter from me in 1 hour, then I fear my experiment may have gone awry and I may need assistance. I feel certain that that should not prove necessary, however, and I look forward to sharing my story with you.
Your friend,
Benjamin Franklin
"he sent this 3 hours ago and there's no follow-up! we have to save him, gavin!"
"i knew something like this would happen!" the judge grumbled, shaking his fist. "damn you, burkie!"
"how are we going to save him?" danny asked as he walked over to deliver cardigan's pasta. "we don't have a time machine."
"no, we don't. but h.g. wells invented one and it's in a museum right here in san francisco," cardigan pointed out. "according to the movie Time After Time, that is. we'll just go use that to go find mr. franklin."
"you do that," the Lurker said with a shake of her head. "i just saw the movie Hot Tub Time Machine and if i'm going to travel through time, i'd rather do it in a hot tub."
"not me," linda was shaking her head. "i'm going for the delorean in Back To The Future!"
"pardon me," a handsome man who looked a lot like eric bana walked in. "perhaps i can be of assistance? my name is henry detamble and i am chrono-impaired, which means i can travel through time."
"i'm with him!" sierra jumped up and went to him. "i'm sierra. this won't make me sick, will it?"
"well, no," detamble looked embarrassed. "but--"
"then let's go!"
the judge's thumbs were in overdrive sending a text message. "you guys go ahead. i'm contacting the ChronoGuard from jasper fforde's thursday next series. they respect the principles underlying time travel and understand the consequences of getting it wrong."
"howdy, danny boy!" gavin cardigan entered Poor Yorick's Pub and greeted the owner. "what's for supper?"
"cajun chicken pasta," danny blake replied from behind the bar, pouring an ale for his friend.
"thank you, sir," cardigan bowed. "it is an honor to dine here."
he took his ale over to join the others. "what's up, everyone?"
"hi, cardigan," sierra charles greeted him. "we were just discussing marian's latest column."
"did you get a good question?" cardigan asked marian elfman, author of the syndicated advice column "Don't Be So Melodramatic!"
"no," marian pouted. "i haven't gotten any really good questions in a long time. i may have to resort to making up my own questions."
"isn't that unethical?" linda nulo asked.
"no, not really. in fact, if it's a question that somebody is likely struggling with but is too embarrassed to ask for help, it's actually kind of a public service."
"uh-huh." cardigan sounded skeptical.
"i'm going to check my email. maybe there's a good question there." marian's fingers clicked and clacked over the keyboard of her laptop, then paused. "oh, i have an email from benjamin franklin!"
"our benjamin franklin?" judge st. bishop stormed in at that moment. "he's using email now?"
"OMG!" marian shrieked. "listen!"
Dear Marian,
I hope this electronic letter finds you well. This iPhone gadget is quite extraordinary! At any rate, I'm excited to inform you that I've made a breakthrough in my research into building a device for traveling through time! I'm talking about purposeful, controlled time travel, not randomingly popping up in somebody's Pub based on the whims of a no-talent blogger. I am about to embark on my first journey. Wish me luck! I'm going to Boston, Massuchessets on March 10, 1876 to witness Alexander Graham Bell as he introduces the first telephone. Honestly, the only thing he could think of to say is "Mr. Watson, come here, I want you?!" The man has no sense of the moment!
The point of my letter, however, is to let you know my intentions. If you do not receive another electronic letter from me in 1 hour, then I fear my experiment may have gone awry and I may need assistance. I feel certain that that should not prove necessary, however, and I look forward to sharing my story with you.
Your friend,
Benjamin Franklin
"he sent this 3 hours ago and there's no follow-up! we have to save him, gavin!"
"i knew something like this would happen!" the judge grumbled, shaking his fist. "damn you, burkie!"
"how are we going to save him?" danny asked as he walked over to deliver cardigan's pasta. "we don't have a time machine."
"no, we don't. but h.g. wells invented one and it's in a museum right here in san francisco," cardigan pointed out. "according to the movie Time After Time, that is. we'll just go use that to go find mr. franklin."
"you do that," the Lurker said with a shake of her head. "i just saw the movie Hot Tub Time Machine and if i'm going to travel through time, i'd rather do it in a hot tub."
"not me," linda was shaking her head. "i'm going for the delorean in Back To The Future!"
"pardon me," a handsome man who looked a lot like eric bana walked in. "perhaps i can be of assistance? my name is henry detamble and i am chrono-impaired, which means i can travel through time."
"i'm with him!" sierra jumped up and went to him. "i'm sierra. this won't make me sick, will it?"
"well, no," detamble looked embarrassed. "but--"
"then let's go!"
the judge's thumbs were in overdrive sending a text message. "you guys go ahead. i'm contacting the ChronoGuard from jasper fforde's thursday next series. they respect the principles underlying time travel and understand the consequences of getting it wrong."
"listen, love." taylor elbowed marian, earning a scowl. "we should call up hermione granger from the Harry Potter series and use her time turner necklace thingie."
"do you know hermione granger?"
"yes. she interviewed me last year while doing research on vampires."
"you never told me that!" marian stomped her foot, scowling even more fiercely at taylor. "i want to meet hermione!"
the door burst open then and they turned to see foxy & julius/juliet charles rushing in. "we want to help!"
"foxy!" cardigan greeted her happily. "you guys can come with me. i'm planning to use h.g. wells' time machine to rescue mr. franklin."
"no, man. let's use the sonic transducer!" juliet stated excitedly.
"what's that?"
"it's the audio-vibratory physio-molecular transport device used by dr. frank-n-furter in the Rocky Horror Picture Show," juliet explained.
"but it was used to transport matter through space," the judge noted with a frown. "dr. everett scott only speculated that it could transport matter through time as well."
"it's time we found out, then," said juliet. "who's with me?"
gavin nodded. "right, i think time travel is too tricky for us to rely on just one method, but none of us should go alone."
"i'm going with henry," sierra stated defiantly, looking up at her traveling companion and adding a silent "woof!"
"taylor and i will go with hermione," marian said, looking both excited and anxious.
"ava!" the Lurker called, and burkie's friend ava reinier popped up. "we're going to time travel through a hot tub to find mr. franklin. get your swimsuit!"
"yay!"
"tucker, are you going with linda?"
tucker shook his head. "no, i'm prone to motion sickness. i'll think i'd better hang back here, in case mr. franklin shows up on his own."
"i'll go with linda," sgt. tarboom "boom-boom" shakalaka announced as she walked in. "i'll drive."
"like hell you will. it was my idea!"
boom-boom met linda's gaze and nodded. "fair enough."
"i won't be alone," the judge pointed out. "i'll be with a time travel professional from the ChronoGuard."
gavin nodded and looked around the room. "okay, so everybody has a partner except for juliet. who--"
"don't worry, everybody. i'm here to help!" heads turned and eyes rolled as dat rhaymes (AKA the black darter) strutted in, a blow gun strapped across his back. he bowed and kissed juliet's hand. "i'll protect you, m'lady."
juliet exchanged a look with sierra. "is he for real?"
sierra sighed. "dat, this is my brother juliet. juliet, dat is a vigilante who calls himself the black darter."
"well, aren't we the dressed-up pair!"
"all right, teams. let's go find mr. franklin!"
and now, a public service announcement from burkie:
dear readers, welcome to the Pub's first interactive adventure. that's right, you get to choose whose adventure you want to read. click on the link of your choice below to go to your next chapter.
gavin & foxy in the h.g. wells time machine
Mysterious Lurker and burkie's friend ava in the hot tub time machine
Thursday, January 28, 2010
It's A Family Affair
"good evening, danny boy! what's on the menu tonight?" gavin cardigan asked as he stepped into Poor Yorick's Pub.
"argentine empanadas," danny blake replied, pouring a Guinness.
"what makes them argentine?"
"hell if i know."
"hi, gavin! are you ready to party?" marian elfman asked as he approached his regular table.
"party? what party?"
"tucker felt bad that linda didn't win the football league, so he arranged a party to cheer her up. he's got a DJ friend coming over with a karaoke machine!"
"he'd better have some shania twain songs!" linda nulo stated as she drained her beer and signaled danny for another one.
"and elvis songs!" added a friendly looking lady seated next to burkie.
"gavin, this is my mom," burkie made the introductions, "and that's my sister over there next to linda, and that's her husband willie over there handing out ear plugs."
"and who's going to sing the elvis songs?" gavin asked.
"an Elvis Tribute Artist friend of mine, who should be here soon," burkie's mom told him, and then she turned to sierra and squeezed her hand. "he's looking forward to meeting you!"
"oh, no," sierra looked toward burkie for help, but was met by a helpless shrug.
just then, a young man with a determined stride, er, strode determinedly into the Pub, followed by a friendly looking woman.
"hello, your honor," tucker, the shaggy-haired guitar player greeted him. "who's your friend?"
"this is mother st. bishop," the judge explained.
"hiya!" taylor young pulled a chair over for her. "it's nice to meet the judge's mum."
"thank you. it's wonderful to finally meet all of you."
as danny blake came over to deliver a plate of argentine empanadas in front of gavin, the judge and sierra both reached in to take one.
"ow, these are hot!" the judge proclaimed. "but good. can we get more over here, danny? thanks!"
gavin glared at the thieves, then his face lit up as he saw who walked in next. "foxy!"
sierra's sister, foxy charles, smiled as she walked in, followed by a friendly looking lady. "hi, gavin!"
"juliet!" sierra ran over to hug the young lady next to foxy. "i didn't know you were coming!" she turned to everyone and said, "everyone, this is our brother juliet!"
this was met by a number of raised eyebrows and open mouths. "um...hello," gavin stammered out and stuck out his hand.
"gavin, it's nice to finally meet you. i've heard a lot about you." juliet grinned as he shook gavin's hand.
sierra smiled. "juliet is a crossdresser by night and on weekends. his given name is julius and by day he's a personal trainer. as juliet, she performs in an underwater mermaid show."
mother st. bishop winked. "i bet you've got a great dorsal fin."
juliet giggled and took the seat next to her. "you'll have to come by one night and check it out for yourself, sweetheart."
the judge looked alarmed and cleared his voice. "so, where's the karaoke machine?"
"someone looking for me?" a friendly looking man with short blond hair walked in, hauling a karaoke machine. "hey, marian! long time, no see!"
marian made a face that could only be described as dread. "oh, hi."
tucker looked surprised. "marian, you know j³?"
"know me? dude, we used to date!"
"really, mate? you don't say!" taylor shook his hand. "i have that pleasure now."
"your name is J-third?" gavin asked, recalling that marian's ex-boyfriends were supposed to be named after nursery rhyme characters.
"no, man. J-cubed. it's just my stage name. my real name is--"
"JOHN JACOB JINGLEHEIMER SCHMIDT!!!" gavin and sierra and Mysterious Lurker shouted out, laughing hysterically.
j³ looked at marian, whose face was beet red. "what exactly did you tell them about me?"
"nothing," marian muttered.
j³ shrugged and starting working with tucker to set up his system. as they were working, a burly man with a burly fro walked in. "hey, guys. has the open mic night started yet?"
burkie walked up to the newcomer and shook his hand. "cliff, we're doing karaoke, not poetry." he looked over at tucker and j³, then noted, "but since the karaoke machine isn't ready yet, the stage is yours. rock on!"
gavin nudged sierra. "that's cliff lynn! he's my favorite poet."
cliff stepped up behind the mic and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his inside coat pocket, and began to read:
burkie, a man from nantucket--
"not that one, cliff!"
"sorry, dude." he pulled out another folded sheet and began again:
lost in train station, by cliff lynn
sam rolled off of the four plastic seats that formed his napping site
hitting the grimy train station floor with an anguished grunt
his 3- and 4-fingered hands pressed against his ears
as if to prevent his dream from absquatulating
when in fact he was the one who wanted to escape the dream
which was akin to a salvadore dali illustration of a hunter s. thompson poem
about band of irish gypsies hunting easter eggs on the white house lawn
full of fuzzy headed-dandelions and crumpled dr. pepper cans and praying mantises
or praying manti or praying manteese or prayings mantis or--
"wtf, man? this is garbage. i didn't write this!"
gavin nodded in agreement. "that was NOT a cliff lynn poem. his poetry is lean, and provocative."
burkie shrugged. "hey, i don't have permission to print your stuff here, so i had improvise. don't worry. this blog doesn't have more than a dozen readers."
"look!" the Lurker pointed toward the front. "elvis has entered the building!"
they all turned to see a black haired, heavily sideburned young man with blue skin wearing a jumpsuit made of aluminum foil walk into the Pub, the left side of his upper lip lifted in a familiar snarl. "not elvis. el visitor, the alien king of rock 'n roll. thank you, thank you ver' much."
burkie's mother ran over to hug the jumpsuited one as j³ tested the mic. "alright, alright, alright! let's get this party started! first up, miss linda nulo singing "man, i feel like a woman!"
juliet whistled. "that's my theme song! make me proud, sister!"
linda pulled her cowboy hat down over her face as she grabbed the mic and started tapping her boot. "let's go, girls!"
tucker moved up behind her with his guitar, pretending to accompany, as linda began to really get into it, spurred on by catcalls and whistles. she received a standing ovation at the end--and another beer from danny--before taking her seat. "whew, that was fun!"
gavin clicked glasses with her. "not bad, linda! i have to admit, this is funner than i thought it would be." he then noticed el visitor taking the stage. "so far."
as the first notes of the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey began to ring out through the pub, the alien E.T.A. began striking elvis poses. the blue skin-phobic sierra shuddered and went over to wedge herself between foxy & juliet, but her siblings were just as vocal as burkie's mom in rooting on the intergalactic king of rock 'n roll, especially as he began to sing "that's alright mama."
after he finished, juliet stood up. "my turn!" she whispered in j³'s ear. he nodded, and in spoke into the mic: "up next, the loverly juliet charles singing 'Fancy!'"
as juliet started strutting her stuff, gavin joined joined in the catcalls and leaned over to whipser to sierra, "she's terrific!"
mother st. bishop obviously agreed as she approached the mock stage with a $10 bill in her teeth.
Mysterious Lurker clumped forward in her bad girl boots. "guess what song i'm going to do?"
"boots," everyone replied in unison.
"hmph."
"argentine empanadas," danny blake replied, pouring a Guinness.
"what makes them argentine?"
"hell if i know."
"hi, gavin! are you ready to party?" marian elfman asked as he approached his regular table.
"party? what party?"
"tucker felt bad that linda didn't win the football league, so he arranged a party to cheer her up. he's got a DJ friend coming over with a karaoke machine!"
"he'd better have some shania twain songs!" linda nulo stated as she drained her beer and signaled danny for another one.
"and elvis songs!" added a friendly looking lady seated next to burkie.
"gavin, this is my mom," burkie made the introductions, "and that's my sister over there next to linda, and that's her husband willie over there handing out ear plugs."
"and who's going to sing the elvis songs?" gavin asked.
"an Elvis Tribute Artist friend of mine, who should be here soon," burkie's mom told him, and then she turned to sierra and squeezed her hand. "he's looking forward to meeting you!"
"oh, no," sierra looked toward burkie for help, but was met by a helpless shrug.
just then, a young man with a determined stride, er, strode determinedly into the Pub, followed by a friendly looking woman.
"hello, your honor," tucker, the shaggy-haired guitar player greeted him. "who's your friend?"
"this is mother st. bishop," the judge explained.
"hiya!" taylor young pulled a chair over for her. "it's nice to meet the judge's mum."
"thank you. it's wonderful to finally meet all of you."
as danny blake came over to deliver a plate of argentine empanadas in front of gavin, the judge and sierra both reached in to take one.
"ow, these are hot!" the judge proclaimed. "but good. can we get more over here, danny? thanks!"
gavin glared at the thieves, then his face lit up as he saw who walked in next. "foxy!"
sierra's sister, foxy charles, smiled as she walked in, followed by a friendly looking lady. "hi, gavin!"
"juliet!" sierra ran over to hug the young lady next to foxy. "i didn't know you were coming!" she turned to everyone and said, "everyone, this is our brother juliet!"
this was met by a number of raised eyebrows and open mouths. "um...hello," gavin stammered out and stuck out his hand.
"gavin, it's nice to finally meet you. i've heard a lot about you." juliet grinned as he shook gavin's hand.
sierra smiled. "juliet is a crossdresser by night and on weekends. his given name is julius and by day he's a personal trainer. as juliet, she performs in an underwater mermaid show."
mother st. bishop winked. "i bet you've got a great dorsal fin."
juliet giggled and took the seat next to her. "you'll have to come by one night and check it out for yourself, sweetheart."
the judge looked alarmed and cleared his voice. "so, where's the karaoke machine?"
"someone looking for me?" a friendly looking man with short blond hair walked in, hauling a karaoke machine. "hey, marian! long time, no see!"
marian made a face that could only be described as dread. "oh, hi."
tucker looked surprised. "marian, you know j³?"
"know me? dude, we used to date!"
"really, mate? you don't say!" taylor shook his hand. "i have that pleasure now."
"your name is J-third?" gavin asked, recalling that marian's ex-boyfriends were supposed to be named after nursery rhyme characters.
"no, man. J-cubed. it's just my stage name. my real name is--"
"JOHN JACOB JINGLEHEIMER SCHMIDT!!!" gavin and sierra and Mysterious Lurker shouted out, laughing hysterically.
j³ looked at marian, whose face was beet red. "what exactly did you tell them about me?"
"nothing," marian muttered.
j³ shrugged and starting working with tucker to set up his system. as they were working, a burly man with a burly fro walked in. "hey, guys. has the open mic night started yet?"
burkie walked up to the newcomer and shook his hand. "cliff, we're doing karaoke, not poetry." he looked over at tucker and j³, then noted, "but since the karaoke machine isn't ready yet, the stage is yours. rock on!"
gavin nudged sierra. "that's cliff lynn! he's my favorite poet."
cliff stepped up behind the mic and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his inside coat pocket, and began to read:
burkie, a man from nantucket--
"not that one, cliff!"
"sorry, dude." he pulled out another folded sheet and began again:
lost in train station, by cliff lynn
sam rolled off of the four plastic seats that formed his napping site
hitting the grimy train station floor with an anguished grunt
his 3- and 4-fingered hands pressed against his ears
as if to prevent his dream from absquatulating
when in fact he was the one who wanted to escape the dream
which was akin to a salvadore dali illustration of a hunter s. thompson poem
about band of irish gypsies hunting easter eggs on the white house lawn
full of fuzzy headed-dandelions and crumpled dr. pepper cans and praying mantises
or praying manti or praying manteese or prayings mantis or--
"wtf, man? this is garbage. i didn't write this!"
gavin nodded in agreement. "that was NOT a cliff lynn poem. his poetry is lean, and provocative."
burkie shrugged. "hey, i don't have permission to print your stuff here, so i had improvise. don't worry. this blog doesn't have more than a dozen readers."
"look!" the Lurker pointed toward the front. "elvis has entered the building!"
they all turned to see a black haired, heavily sideburned young man with blue skin wearing a jumpsuit made of aluminum foil walk into the Pub, the left side of his upper lip lifted in a familiar snarl. "not elvis. el visitor, the alien king of rock 'n roll. thank you, thank you ver' much."
burkie's mother ran over to hug the jumpsuited one as j³ tested the mic. "alright, alright, alright! let's get this party started! first up, miss linda nulo singing "man, i feel like a woman!"
juliet whistled. "that's my theme song! make me proud, sister!"
linda pulled her cowboy hat down over her face as she grabbed the mic and started tapping her boot. "let's go, girls!"
tucker moved up behind her with his guitar, pretending to accompany, as linda began to really get into it, spurred on by catcalls and whistles. she received a standing ovation at the end--and another beer from danny--before taking her seat. "whew, that was fun!"
gavin clicked glasses with her. "not bad, linda! i have to admit, this is funner than i thought it would be." he then noticed el visitor taking the stage. "so far."
as the first notes of the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey began to ring out through the pub, the alien E.T.A. began striking elvis poses. the blue skin-phobic sierra shuddered and went over to wedge herself between foxy & juliet, but her siblings were just as vocal as burkie's mom in rooting on the intergalactic king of rock 'n roll, especially as he began to sing "that's alright mama."
after he finished, juliet stood up. "my turn!" she whispered in j³'s ear. he nodded, and in spoke into the mic: "up next, the loverly juliet charles singing 'Fancy!'"
as juliet started strutting her stuff, gavin joined joined in the catcalls and leaned over to whipser to sierra, "she's terrific!"
mother st. bishop obviously agreed as she approached the mock stage with a $10 bill in her teeth.
Mysterious Lurker clumped forward in her bad girl boots. "guess what song i'm going to do?"
"boots," everyone replied in unison.
"hmph."
Saturday, December 19, 2009
The Wizard of Schnauze
"greetings, all!" gavin cardigan bellowed out as he entered the Pub.
"why are you bellowing?" danny blake asked from behind the bar as he poured a Guinness for his best customer.
cardigan shrugged. "i don't know. burkie's probably trying out new verbs."
danny handed him his pint. "well, fortunately for us, burkie has me cooking a hearty beef stew with sourdough bread today, so don't be too hard on him."
"i can't promise anything." cardigan took his stout over to join the others, breaking into a grin. "hi, foxy!"
foxy charles gave him a warm smile. "hi, gavin. you're looking well."
he nodded. "i'm feeling pretty well, too. what brings you here tonight?"
she glanced over at her sister sierra, who scowled. "i'm here to introduce sierra's date."
"another one?" he winked at sierra. "you get around, charles!"
"i have nothing to do with it! it's burkie's stupid contest. his sister gets to run my life now, it seems."
marian elfman gave her a disapproving look. "don't be so melodramatic! you might actually like this one."
"wanna bet?"
"no. you'd try even harder to not like him then."
taylor young looked up. "my enhanced hearing tells me the front door just opened. maybe that's him!"
marian rolled her eyes. "i heard it, too, taylor. your hearing isn't enhanced."
they all looked expectantly toward the front, only to deflate as burkie and special assistant hepzibah walked in.
Mysteriously Lurker suddenly appeared and hmph'd. "we thought you were sierra's date."
s.a. hepzibah shook her head. "no, but he should be here soon."
sierra asked, "did you bring your autograph book? is this one famous, too?"
foxy shook her head. "no...well, not like jacob. this one is more of, uh, an F-list celebrity," she added, looking away from her sister, who was a well-established D-list celebrity.
"how do you know him anyway?"
"through burkie's sister," foxy explained. "i've never met him, but she wrote and told me about him, suggesting he'd make a good match for sierra, so i contacted him and he agreed to come meet her."
"you've never met him?" sierra looked alarmed. "he might be amish, or a leprechaun, or have a tail!"
"an amish leprechaun with a tail," gavin mused. "burkie, can i enter the next contest?"
"door," taylor nodded toward the front again.
they held their breath, listening to the footsteps. when judge st. bishop entered the room accompanied by benjamin franklin, there was more than a little disappointment--along with relief on the part of sierra--in the collective exhale.
"what are you two doing here?"
the Pub's resident founding father beamed. "we've just come from the cinema where we saw Avatar. what an extraordinary experience!"
danny looked at the judge in suprise as he dropped off cardigan's food. "you took him to the movies, your honor? i thought you didn't like exposing him to modern technology."
"that ship is so far from shore that it it would get lost if it tried to turn around," answered the judge with a shrug as he and sierra helped themselves to cardigan's sourdough bread. "life's too short to get too worked up over things i can't control."
cardigan pointed, er, pointedly at his empty bread basket. "danny, a refill here? and might as well bring some stew for the judge and mr. franklin."
"vampire's lives aren't short," taylor noted with pride.
"we're fictional," cardigan reminded them. "we're not alive in the first place. except for mr. franklin, of course, and he's dead."
"i am not dead, dammit!"
"door," taylor informed them.
they turned again and saw the back of a man who approached danny at the bar.
"hey, it smells great in here! beef stew, right?" the man said jovially. "with potatoes, carrots, some red wine, a couple of bay leaves, and some dried thyme? and sourdough bread, unless i'm very much mistaken."
danny looked uncharacteristically flustered. "um, yeah. yeah, you're right. exactly right, as matter of...of fact."
the man nodded. "i'm never wrong! it smells great. may i have an order, please?"
"sure, yeah. uh, sure. no problem. i, uh, will bring it over shortly."
the man turned from danny and walked toward them wearing a friendly smile. "i hope this is the right place. i'm looking for foxy charles? my name is stoney karr."
foxy's bright smile began to fade as the newcomer approached them. he had a medium build, jet black hair, and piercing greens set on a ruggedly handsome face. ruggedly handsome, that is, except for the fact that his nose had three nostrils.
"oh, uh, i'm foxy," she replied, then hurriedly indicated her sister. "this is sierra, stoney."
he extended a hand. "hi, sierra. i've heard a lot about you. it's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh. i'm a big fan of your work in zz top videos."
sierra gripped his hand briefly. "oh, uh, thank you, stoney. uh....i understand that you're celebrity yourself?"
he took the seat next to her. "not really. i was a contestant on Who Wants To Be The Next Food Network Star. i didn't win, though."
"oh, well, show business can be like that. it's not always about talent, you knows--you know, i mean." sierra looked to caridgan for help.
cardigan looked just as uncomfortable. "so, uh, stoney. you're a chef? what is your specialty?"
"i was blessed with an extraordinary sense of taste and smell," stoney explained, not at all uncomfortable. "my gimmick on the show was bachelor meals, or cooking for one."
"that, uh, sounds like a good niche," danny noted as he delivered more food to the table. "cooking for one isn't easy."
stoney shrugged as he reached for some bread. "that was my thought, but i guess i must have come off as pathetic. i mean, who wants to see some poor shmuck cook for himself night after night?"
"oh, i'm sure nosebody would think that," sierra interjected, then cringed. "nobody, i mean. nobody would think that."
"so, do you work as a chef here in san francisco, stoney?" the Lurker asked him.
he nodded, waiting until he swallowed a mouthful of stew before answering. "yes, i've been the head chef over at Verona for about a year."
"Verona?" cardigan looked over at sierra. "that's how we met, charles. remember? your ex-client/boyfriend was the chef there when he was murdered!"
"james livermore?" stoney looked at sierra. "you dated livermore? wow, small world, huh?"
"did you knows---know him?"
stoney shook his head. "no, i never met him. i know him by reputation. everybody loved that guy." his looked at sierra sympathetically. "i'm sorry for your loss."
"oh, we weren't really dating," sierra replied. "we were just getting to knows each other--i mean, know each other, when that happened."
stoney reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "i knows you're uncomfortable, sierra. it's okay." his smile was reassuring and friendly. "i've been trying to live up to james livermore at work for the past year. i really don't want to have to do that in my private life, too. just friends?" he extended his hand.
sierra smiled in relief and shook his hand. "friends it is."
stoney stood. "it's been a pleasure to meet you all. foxy, thanks for everything."
"you're welcome, stoney. it was nice meeting you, too."
cardigan nodded. "don't be a stranger, okay? we'll save a seat for you."
after he walked out, sierra noted, "you know, he really is a nice guy."
marian agreed. "and he cooks! unlike some boyfriends i could name." she turned toward taylor as she said this, scrunching up her face in annoyance.
taylor shrugged. "i don't have to cook. we eat here."
"maybe you should give him a chance, charles," cardigan suggested.
"he had three nostrils! i couldn't stop looking at them! i couldn't stop talking about them!"
"i knows," the others said in unison.
as the great english dramatist came to bus the table, sierra turned to him and asked, "what do you think, shakespeare?"
"that which we call a nose by any other name would smell as sweet."
judge st. bishop groaned. "how long have you had that one in your pocket, waiting to bring it out at just the right moment?"
shakespeare grinned at the judge and exchanged a high five with burkie.
Author's Note: my sister kelly created the character (except for a couple of embelishments on my part)--and the name--of stoney karr. any resemblence between stoney karr and anybody else, whether they be named stoney or karr or anything near that, is coincidental. or, it's kelly's fault. :)
"why are you bellowing?" danny blake asked from behind the bar as he poured a Guinness for his best customer.
cardigan shrugged. "i don't know. burkie's probably trying out new verbs."
danny handed him his pint. "well, fortunately for us, burkie has me cooking a hearty beef stew with sourdough bread today, so don't be too hard on him."
"i can't promise anything." cardigan took his stout over to join the others, breaking into a grin. "hi, foxy!"
foxy charles gave him a warm smile. "hi, gavin. you're looking well."
he nodded. "i'm feeling pretty well, too. what brings you here tonight?"
she glanced over at her sister sierra, who scowled. "i'm here to introduce sierra's date."
"another one?" he winked at sierra. "you get around, charles!"
"i have nothing to do with it! it's burkie's stupid contest. his sister gets to run my life now, it seems."
marian elfman gave her a disapproving look. "don't be so melodramatic! you might actually like this one."
"wanna bet?"
"no. you'd try even harder to not like him then."
taylor young looked up. "my enhanced hearing tells me the front door just opened. maybe that's him!"
marian rolled her eyes. "i heard it, too, taylor. your hearing isn't enhanced."
they all looked expectantly toward the front, only to deflate as burkie and special assistant hepzibah walked in.
Mysteriously Lurker suddenly appeared and hmph'd. "we thought you were sierra's date."
s.a. hepzibah shook her head. "no, but he should be here soon."
sierra asked, "did you bring your autograph book? is this one famous, too?"
foxy shook her head. "no...well, not like jacob. this one is more of, uh, an F-list celebrity," she added, looking away from her sister, who was a well-established D-list celebrity.
"how do you know him anyway?"
"through burkie's sister," foxy explained. "i've never met him, but she wrote and told me about him, suggesting he'd make a good match for sierra, so i contacted him and he agreed to come meet her."
"you've never met him?" sierra looked alarmed. "he might be amish, or a leprechaun, or have a tail!"
"an amish leprechaun with a tail," gavin mused. "burkie, can i enter the next contest?"
"door," taylor nodded toward the front again.
they held their breath, listening to the footsteps. when judge st. bishop entered the room accompanied by benjamin franklin, there was more than a little disappointment--along with relief on the part of sierra--in the collective exhale.
"what are you two doing here?"
the Pub's resident founding father beamed. "we've just come from the cinema where we saw Avatar. what an extraordinary experience!"
danny looked at the judge in suprise as he dropped off cardigan's food. "you took him to the movies, your honor? i thought you didn't like exposing him to modern technology."
"that ship is so far from shore that it it would get lost if it tried to turn around," answered the judge with a shrug as he and sierra helped themselves to cardigan's sourdough bread. "life's too short to get too worked up over things i can't control."
cardigan pointed, er, pointedly at his empty bread basket. "danny, a refill here? and might as well bring some stew for the judge and mr. franklin."
"vampire's lives aren't short," taylor noted with pride.
"we're fictional," cardigan reminded them. "we're not alive in the first place. except for mr. franklin, of course, and he's dead."
"i am not dead, dammit!"
"door," taylor informed them.
they turned again and saw the back of a man who approached danny at the bar.
"hey, it smells great in here! beef stew, right?" the man said jovially. "with potatoes, carrots, some red wine, a couple of bay leaves, and some dried thyme? and sourdough bread, unless i'm very much mistaken."
danny looked uncharacteristically flustered. "um, yeah. yeah, you're right. exactly right, as matter of...of fact."
the man nodded. "i'm never wrong! it smells great. may i have an order, please?"
"sure, yeah. uh, sure. no problem. i, uh, will bring it over shortly."
the man turned from danny and walked toward them wearing a friendly smile. "i hope this is the right place. i'm looking for foxy charles? my name is stoney karr."
foxy's bright smile began to fade as the newcomer approached them. he had a medium build, jet black hair, and piercing greens set on a ruggedly handsome face. ruggedly handsome, that is, except for the fact that his nose had three nostrils.
"oh, uh, i'm foxy," she replied, then hurriedly indicated her sister. "this is sierra, stoney."
he extended a hand. "hi, sierra. i've heard a lot about you. it's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh. i'm a big fan of your work in zz top videos."
sierra gripped his hand briefly. "oh, uh, thank you, stoney. uh....i understand that you're celebrity yourself?"
he took the seat next to her. "not really. i was a contestant on Who Wants To Be The Next Food Network Star. i didn't win, though."
"oh, well, show business can be like that. it's not always about talent, you knows--you know, i mean." sierra looked to caridgan for help.
cardigan looked just as uncomfortable. "so, uh, stoney. you're a chef? what is your specialty?"
"i was blessed with an extraordinary sense of taste and smell," stoney explained, not at all uncomfortable. "my gimmick on the show was bachelor meals, or cooking for one."
"that, uh, sounds like a good niche," danny noted as he delivered more food to the table. "cooking for one isn't easy."
stoney shrugged as he reached for some bread. "that was my thought, but i guess i must have come off as pathetic. i mean, who wants to see some poor shmuck cook for himself night after night?"
"oh, i'm sure nosebody would think that," sierra interjected, then cringed. "nobody, i mean. nobody would think that."
"so, do you work as a chef here in san francisco, stoney?" the Lurker asked him.
he nodded, waiting until he swallowed a mouthful of stew before answering. "yes, i've been the head chef over at Verona for about a year."
"Verona?" cardigan looked over at sierra. "that's how we met, charles. remember? your ex-client/boyfriend was the chef there when he was murdered!"
"james livermore?" stoney looked at sierra. "you dated livermore? wow, small world, huh?"
"did you knows---know him?"
stoney shook his head. "no, i never met him. i know him by reputation. everybody loved that guy." his looked at sierra sympathetically. "i'm sorry for your loss."
"oh, we weren't really dating," sierra replied. "we were just getting to knows each other--i mean, know each other, when that happened."
stoney reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "i knows you're uncomfortable, sierra. it's okay." his smile was reassuring and friendly. "i've been trying to live up to james livermore at work for the past year. i really don't want to have to do that in my private life, too. just friends?" he extended his hand.
sierra smiled in relief and shook his hand. "friends it is."
stoney stood. "it's been a pleasure to meet you all. foxy, thanks for everything."
"you're welcome, stoney. it was nice meeting you, too."
cardigan nodded. "don't be a stranger, okay? we'll save a seat for you."
after he walked out, sierra noted, "you know, he really is a nice guy."
marian agreed. "and he cooks! unlike some boyfriends i could name." she turned toward taylor as she said this, scrunching up her face in annoyance.
taylor shrugged. "i don't have to cook. we eat here."
"maybe you should give him a chance, charles," cardigan suggested.
"he had three nostrils! i couldn't stop looking at them! i couldn't stop talking about them!"
"i knows," the others said in unison.
as the great english dramatist came to bus the table, sierra turned to him and asked, "what do you think, shakespeare?"
"that which we call a nose by any other name would smell as sweet."
judge st. bishop groaned. "how long have you had that one in your pocket, waiting to bring it out at just the right moment?"
shakespeare grinned at the judge and exchanged a high five with burkie.
Author's Note: my sister kelly created the character (except for a couple of embelishments on my part)--and the name--of stoney karr. any resemblence between stoney karr and anybody else, whether they be named stoney or karr or anything near that, is coincidental. or, it's kelly's fault. :)
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