“What’s that heavenly odour?” I say, finally looking away from the mesmerizing flames.
“Mmmmmm Chowda!”
I suddenly lift of the ground and float towards the cute girl with the book, in a perfectly horizontal, Fred Flintstone (Frinstone?) kinda way.
“They have Chowder here?” I ask, in that dashing “I’m too young to be here” kinda way.
“Barkeep, another bowl of Clam goodness, and a top up for my shy new friend.”
That oddly familiar bartender brings some fresh chowder, it smells wonderful! I pause to ask the bartener if we’ve met somewhere before, but I am interupted by a loud SQUAK from the trombone…
“Sorry everyone!” MO says sheepishly, “F never really was my note!”
Ferrous, Bumbazine,…Fest? Damn! As usual I must have been oblivious…anytime in the future, I’m up for it…
Hey, Barkeep…another double and a MP back, and give my friends Ferrous and ‘Zine a refill of whatever they’re having. That chowder’s smelling pretty nice, but I think this is going to be one of those drinkin’ nights, ya know?
“Käraste bröder, systrar och vänner
Med hälso och frid -
Med öl som bränner,
Hjertat kringränner,
Fetmar och spänner,
Gör krog-dörren vid.
Drick, drick nu är tid!”
“Pint of Samuel Smith’s Tadcaster Porter, barkeep!”
noticing the Hacker-Pschorr on tap, scoping the row for Weihenstephaner and taking notes
screech-owl, I owe you a pint at some point. Hooked up with the Army of Gustavus II Adolphus at Newcastle last weekend and had an absolute blast. Thanks for the links!
Dibs on the next cribbage game with chique!
sits on a barstool, facing the slowly gathering crowd
Reminds me of Coldfire’s back in Doperville - now that was a heck of a bar. That town never was the same after Wally left it…
skooshes over a bit in the seat
Hi Cy…so far so good just starting it… emotional rollercoaster as all Paretsky’s books are…
Thanks for the chowder… I do love clam chowder!
among other things * I was right he is a bit young but thats okay… he’s cute*
I finish off the song on the bone to take a break so as not to disturb screech and Olent. Picking up my empty glass, I signal for a refill.
The pint duly arrives and I approach the bar and survey the pub.
[ul]
[li]Bad News Baboon is at the bar with a Chocolate milk (with bendy straw)[/li]
[li]Spoons and Francesca are enjoying a quite drink and reading the local paper.[/li]
[li]TruePisces and Ferrous are battling it out on the dart boards.[/li]
[li]Çyrin is drunk and hitting it off with toshirodragon by the fire.[/li]
[li]TheOtherOne has gathered an audience in the corner with his guitar.[/li][/ul]
Quite the busy night.
Spying the pool tables, I head over to see if Bumbazine is up for a quick match.
“You can break if you’d like.” I start as I place my beer on the small table.
'Twas a total hoot. screech-owl. Actually we were on loan for a battle - the seizure of Fort Casimir from the Dutch in 1664, long after the Swedes got booted from Delaware. But I got to dress up in funny clothes and fire off a cannon at a fort made of cardboard carpet spools. And shoot a musket.
Of course my first set of loaner breeches had a lousy drawstring, which made my first musket drill interesting… the weekend of the 20th I’m taking the Tzeroling, her friend, and my nephew to St. Mary’s City for the big shindig there. Can’t wait, either!
pushes empty chowder bowl away and turns to Cyrin
“Cy, you cutie pie, would run up to the counter and get me a medium Coke please? My throat is so dry” Voice goes hoarse as I talk…
Oh bother I splashed chowder on my book
*looks around quickly… no one is looking… likes chowder off of page and sighs…
Well, since this is a real pool table, I say we spot 'em on a scratch. And how’s about we call the 8-ball and assume we ‘meant to do that’ on everything else?
