Since Eve has done such a masterful job as town librarian, I’m the eccentric old bat dressed in orange tennis shoes, a mangy fox stole and badly matched clothing. I’m rumored to have a half million dollars in silver certificates buried in Mason jars in the back yard.
I sit around the bar, sipping sherry and when adequately tipsy, attend all public meetings to rant about people listening to my throughts through their cell phones.
I am also a devoted member of the Book Club.
Veb
Hey, Coldie, what’s with all this soccer stuff on the widescreen? Ain’t Ceceville in Amurrica?
Oh dear, time to hit the bandstand… could we get some chickenwire across the stage?
I don’t care where we are. I run this joint. That explains the 24/7 football and Formula 1 coverage on the widescreen 
Screw your 'Murrikan sports, and have some REAL beer fer Gods sakes!
Guinness all around!! Hey, I get to be the annoying Euro-Trash as long as I keep giving away free Guinness
Well, it seems it is time to close shop, transfer the phone to the cell and hit happy hour at “Coldies.”
Barkeep, a white Russian and a bottle of YooHoo.
Glad I made it in before U. Ike starts his evening target practice.
Osip
I’m the groovy artist. I dress in black, with a jaunty beret, don’t say much except the occasional deep, prosaic, flippant comment about the folk in this sleepy town.
“Hey, there are chill cats, and there are sly foxes. You’ll find me to be the trippiest of the low temps.”
Known as that nice, odd young man from across the way who seems to have a lot of young lady visitors from college who ‘pose’ for his ‘art’
I have no friends.
My bond name is Queen Foranhour, but I had it legally
changed to Queen Forever, so I get to own all the land
this quirky town sits on. My past is clouded in mystery,
only I have all the anwers!
I sit up in my mansion on the hill and get waited on by
my faithful Old Family Retainers. I am currently taking
applications for the positions. It is necessary to have
a forelock to pull on as you bow.
Does anyone know what a forelock is?
Scotti
Walks over to the jukebox, makes a fist and bangs on it
inserts dollar and accidently picks milli vanilli
D’oh!
Hey coldie! Can I get a 151 and diet coke here?? It ups my “cool” by a factor of 10!
clicks out his switchblade comb and runs it through his hiar
OK dude, hand the booze over. I want it straight from the tap. I’m in a shitty mood, so don’t be cheap!
I’m the mild-mannered guy who is often seen hanging out in the Bar (where Swiddles hangs out, BratMan bounces, jubei2k and ShadowFox sing karaoke, Sue Duhnym waits tables, Shayna sings, Reservoir Dog washes glasses, Aenea tends bar, John Larrigan runs the joint and Coldie owns). Little is known about me except that I’m quiet, seemingly well-read (book club practice) and live sequestered away in the old haunted house beind the high hedges.
What isn’t known is that I’m financially independent and spend my nights fighting supervillians in a black lycra suit.
I also have a wide array of gadgets (supplied by Baloo - one of the few who knows my secret) and a crush on one of the regulars at the bar (where Swiddles, Bratman, PB… etc). But alas, my responsibility to the public good prevents me becoming involved.
Criminals beware!!!
Well, major crooks anyway. Pornography, gambling and underground vibrator dealers haven’t much to fear. I specialise in supervillians.
*
Free Guinness? Why, Coldie, ya just might convert us Philistines.
Hey, Osip, pass that YooHoo. If ya mix it up with the Guinness, it’s like a meal in a can!
Hmm, the Dutch team has some mighty fine assets runnin’ across the screen…
Well, young man, since you so generously offered, I would be delighted to have a Guiness. ::Thriftily tucks flask under fox-tail stole::
See that deceptively mild-looking young man at the end of the bar? ::daintily sips drink, draining half the glass:: Well, he may look harmless, but I think he’s a bat!
Is that attractive young lady wearing a microphone!? I bet right now she’s reporting every word we say to the Public Works Department.
Why, yes, thank you, I would love another one…with a sherry chaser this time, please.
It’s a little early in the week, but it seems like they might start runnin’ a little low down at Coldie’s. He might be callin’ any minute.
I better git on down to the shed and see what’s left o’ last week’s invetory.
Shi-oot. Damn! An’ I was gonna tune the cars tonight.
Hyuk, I be really takin a likin to those guiness’. All them world records and such. I cant read or nuttin but i likes lookin at dem dar pictres.
Elelle you can share my YooHoo anytime!
Has anyone seen or own version of Doc Webster? Wally where are you?
Now that I think about it, Aha is not here to put a dent in that case of Sparkling Asti Spumante?
Nah I guess they will come around soon enough unless U. Ike has them pinned under park benches again.
Osip
**
[/QUOTE]
Hey, what’s say you and me amscray outta here and go someplace a little more quiet-like?
**
[/QUOTE]
Hey BratMan! Jujubee started a bit early tonight, keep an eye on him for me, will ya?
Somebody start up the Karaoke machine!
Hi everyone!
I’m the nice, normal lady.
You all know who I am.
I’m the one that knows everything, because all of you tell me.
You come to my house in the afternoon, and I fix you sandwiches and Coke, after you’ve been too long at the bar/book club. You tell me the things you hear, see, and do, and I just nod and smile, pat you on the hand, and tell you you’ll be alright, and “gee, that sure sounds like fun!”
Every once in a while, one of you gets into an argument with your spouse/lover/both of them, and you come to my house, and I let you sleep on my couch.
I don’t spend much time at the bar, really. Not because I don’t like you all, but just because it’s not really my thing. I know all about the “book club,” too. I just laugh, and say “whatever floats your respective boats!”
I don’t talk about the things you tell me. That’s why you all keep coming back. You know you can trust me. There’s just something about me that encourages you to spill it all to me.
You all know I have a thing for candles, but you never really noticed the pentacle hanging over my stove. You know I love my herb garden, but you just thought that mortar & pestle was a knick-knack. You know I have this really great tea that makes your headaches go away, but you’ve never really been sure just what’s in it.
And after your man deliberately started that fight with you, you wondered where he went until two a.m.
I know where he went. But I’m not telling.
I’m the sweet little old lady who watches birds.
I dress neatly, but my socks are mis-matched.
I bake cookies for the kiddies, but add ground-up mealworms.
I run a wildly unsuccessful phone-sex line.
I wander into the bar…
<whispers> Psst, Coldie, hon, pass me the absinthe.
I run the local fix-it shop. Business has dropped off since the WalMart moved in. Folks can now get two toasters for what it would cost them to get the old one fixed.
With my business slowly dying I have begun to drink myself to death. I can’t afford to drink at Coldie’s; even beatle’s moonshine has gotten too expensive; so I have to make my own. Nobody notices the ten pounds of sugar I buy each week. Around here most folks have learned to not notice much.
At night I go in the back room, tune my old, tube AM radio to a clear-channel station far away, and listen to music that makes me think of long ago as I sip my drink and fall asleep amid racks full of leaky pressure cookers and fixed-like-new steam irons that people never picked up.
Wandering into the bar again after being ignored by VB, the pilot, purplebear does her best sexy walk up to the bar, and says to Coldy “I’d love a 151 and diet coke, and no one makes them better than you do.” wink Coldy doesn’t see her wink, or her decollete, since he turns away to serve another customer.
She takes her drink and starts looking for a place to sit down when she spies the mild mannered man who lives in the old haunted house. He looks up and smiles at her, so she joins him for a while.
I’m not Bill Clinton…I have an “open door policy.”