Don’t worry Saint I brought REAL cookies.
I’m wandering amongst the happy picnickers, offering my fresh and tasty cookies, enjoying the beautiful crooning of the singers, looking for a comfy place to situate myself and enjoy the afternoon sun.
Is there room near you?
Coldfire, what are the specials here? I have a perfectly legit fake ID. Pass me the best you got!
I’ll rent the beach chairs. Oh, and I have cold beer on ice…
Anyone have any idea who I would be? I don’t really know how to describe myself.
I guess I shall close the shop early and man the BBQ pit. Bring your dogs and burgers and I will cook them right up.
No, No I ment HOT Dogs.
Osip
Eve, that was such a beautiful song, and your rendition had everyone entranced.
But not as much as when the hot June breeze blew through the gazebo and lifted your skirt, giving all an glimpse of your garters.
You could hear the hushed mid-chew of tater salad for miles around.
“Mojo…Mojo?”
Hearing no reply, she throws a handful of nightcrawlers and crickets into cups, caps them and pockets a lovely blue dun.
“Now for those cookies.”
Humming “My Grandfather’s Clock,” she slips a $20 by the cash register. As she leaves, her cel phone rings.
“Doperville Sex Line,” she answers, “What are you hot for, sweetie-pie?” By the time she enters her kitchen and dons her yellow gingham apron, she’s bleating like a goat.
I geuss I bes’ be packin’ up a car load for the picnic. Let me see if that little special batch is done yet - Coldie told me one a’ his patrons had built up a tolerance.
Hey Nitro!! C’mon, c’mere boy, we’re going to town!
:::heads for garage:::
:::cre-e-eak!:::chickens depart noisily:::
Mmm…,I think I’ll take the Merc’…
Hi, I’m Marc this is my brother Darryl and my other brother Darryl
Hi, I’m Marc this is my brother Darryl and my other brother Darryl.
Hi, I’m Marc this is my brother Darryl and my other brother Darryl.
Sassy:
BratMan007:
(Damn, two applicants for concierge and not one application for kitchen staff; guess I’ll have to get food catered in from ultress’ diner.)
Pop quiz for Sassy and BratMan007—
You’re confronted with an irate guest who’s complaining about the lack of “tha beeg baff towses” in Room 23; at the same time a convention of rabid Cecilophiles is spilling into the lobby after a rowdy welcoming party thrown in Coldfire and John Larrigan’s bar, and they’re looking for the big conference room. At roughly the same time, you notice a rather furtive looking individual walking out the door with two decorative cut glass candy dishes from the other end of the lobby.
Prioritize and explain your actions. (Extra points will be assigned for creative use of non-profanity and efficient delegation of tasks.)
The hotel is, of course, The Straight Dope Classic. We offer full service for our guests, including The Straight Dope Massage Bed and full postal service at the front desk (Cecil’s Mailbag).
How about hanging up a picture of Wally prominently, on the wall behind the bar?
Sure that will suffice until we can get that statue built in the park.
The dippy Town Eccentric shuffles into Coldfire & Larrigan’s place, shoulders slumped and clutching a muddy Mason jar full of crumpled banknotes
I already went around and lowered every flag in town to half mast, and hung black bunting on the park grandstand. Now this is to throw the finest wake Dopeville ever saw.
::sniffs pathetically; takes a deep pull from flask::
We lost one of our own, one of the best. But we remember our own, damnit, and we’ll make his passing in our own way. Never was a more solid friend or buoyant soul, so he isn’t going to his rest without some tears, songs, laughter and good memories from his friends.
It’s fitting.
Veb
The sweet old birdwatching lady, still wearing her gingham apron, wanders into Coldfire and Larrigan’s with a large plate of cookies. Sitting down, she says:
“I made these cookies in honor of Wally. No insects, but I arranged the macadamia nuts into a “P” for putz. Wally made me smile and sometimes laugh out loud. This cooky is for you.”
She eats one and passes the plate.
:: The fixit man wakes with a start when the radio newswoman makes the sad announcement. ::
Free booze down at Coldie’s? I’m on my way. Wouldn’t be proper to drink alone on a night like this.
Ahar, ye scurvy dogs!
That be right.
As far as sailors go, that Wally was one fine landlubber.
Now set me up with some grog and be damn quick about it.
And I’ll have a cookie to, me fine li’l mermaid.
My first shrubbery will be dedicated to one of the greatest, a Hero of the Straight Dope Message Board, WallyM7. Maybe it will be arranged around the statue.
(Sigh) I miss him.
I know you have all been dying to know what my place is in this town, and now you’ll know.
If you stop by the bar run by Larrigan and owned by Coldfire on Friday or Saturday night, you will find me, Lounge Singer Lex.
<sings>
*I been reallllly try-y-y-y-y-in’ baby!
Tryin’ ta hold back this feelin’, for sooooooo long.
And if you feel, like a feel, sugah,
Come on, hooooo! come on,
Let’s get it on.
Ahhhhhhhhh-yeah!
Let’s get it on.
Sugah! Oooooh!
There’s nothin’ wrong, with me, lovin’ you.
And givin’ yourself to me can never be wrong,
If the Love is true, hooooo-oooooo!
Etc…*