From: new420@aol.com (New 420)
Date: 04 Feb 1998 01:22:09 EST
Breaking free of the hag's bonds, Hubie and his cohorts spill forth from the kitchen, pots and other various cooking accessories held in feverish grips, and attack Jonalyn as though on the basis of some unspoken agreement. The crowd, following their usual suit, remain inattentive as the onslaught commences.
Re: A New Entry
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From: jonalyn@aol.com (Jonalyn)
Date: 04 Feb 1998 17:44:40 EST
Edmond marches in. Hearing the commotion, it takes him but a few moments to discover the serving kids. Now, normally, Edmond would thrash the serving kids soundly, docking their pay for a week for abusing all but the most cantankerous, ill mannered or rude patrons. Edmond, seeing the feverish look in little Marcus' eyes scoops him up Marcus carrying him through the kitchen, up to the loft room, placing the little boy into his bed.
Thaddeus, the Boss, puts in one of his rare appearances, striding down the front stairs to find Al, Hubie, Nemo flailing away at what at first glance appears to be a regular visitor to the basement. Now, Thaddeus, he keeps track of the various abodes of most of the regulars. It takes Old Thad just a few minutes to ascertain that the patron the kids appeared to be flailing at was, at the time in a meeting, elsewhere. Thad puts the whole thing
down to the rash of impostors known to be frequenting the basement then, reconsiders, and decides it just might be that the serving kids have suddenly come under the influence of a wandering juvenile delinquent. Thaddeus, not one to put up with nonsense, hauls Al, Nemo and Hubie to the bar. The serving kids quail, babbling something that sounds like, "The Devil made me do it." Thad doesn't buy that excuse, he's heard it before. Thad knocks the
kids' heads together. They yelp. Thad considers sending out a search party for the juvenile with instructions that, once the perpetrator is found, he is stuffed in one of the empty kegs of ale and fed through the bung hole until he reaches the ripe old age of five thousand six hundred, twenty one years. After all it's hard to get good servants and Thad put a lot of time and training into the kids.
Thad dismisses the idea, since it's doubtful even the offer of a huge reward for the capture of the perpetrator would find many willing to volunteer. Al and Hubie, liking the idea of a reward, stumble over each other to tell Thad the name of the juvenile. Thad dismisses the serving kids who go back to their usual habit of playing chess behind the bar, then strides up the front stairs and out the door. In no time at all he finds the juvenile,
grabs him by the collar, shaking him until his teeth rattle. Thad, unlike Edmond, has no trouble bouncing the juvenile around like a ball, then drop kicks the wailing New watching as he sails through the air. Thad yells out, "Anyone for a pick up game?"
Meanwhile, in the loft, the eleven year old youngster, Marcus, tosses and turns in the throes of delirium, feverish and suffering, as Edmond yells out to Fufus to fetch a handful of the rings sand. Fufus dashes to ring two, grabs a handful of the magical sands, returning in moments to the loft room. Edmond sprinkles the sand over Marcus. It takes a few moments, but soon, Marcus is sleeping peacefully. Edmond leaves Fufus to sit by the
youngster. Edmond strides back through the kitchen, hitting the doors like a freight train as he heads toward the bar. Al and Hubie tell him about Thad. Edmond smirks glad he wasn't on the receiving end.
Date: 04 Feb 1998 17:44:40 EST
Edmond marches in. Hearing the commotion, it takes him but a few moments to discover the serving kids. Now, normally, Edmond would thrash the serving kids soundly, docking their pay for a week for abusing all but the most cantankerous, ill mannered or rude patrons. Edmond, seeing the feverish look in little Marcus' eyes scoops him up Marcus carrying him through the kitchen, up to the loft room, placing the little boy into his bed.
Thaddeus, the Boss, puts in one of his rare appearances, striding down the front stairs to find Al, Hubie, Nemo flailing away at what at first glance appears to be a regular visitor to the basement. Now, Thaddeus, he keeps track of the various abodes of most of the regulars. It takes Old Thad just a few minutes to ascertain that the patron the kids appeared to be flailing at was, at the time in a meeting, elsewhere. Thad puts the whole thing
down to the rash of impostors known to be frequenting the basement then, reconsiders, and decides it just might be that the serving kids have suddenly come under the influence of a wandering juvenile delinquent. Thaddeus, not one to put up with nonsense, hauls Al, Nemo and Hubie to the bar. The serving kids quail, babbling something that sounds like, "The Devil made me do it." Thad doesn't buy that excuse, he's heard it before. Thad knocks the
kids' heads together. They yelp. Thad considers sending out a search party for the juvenile with instructions that, once the perpetrator is found, he is stuffed in one of the empty kegs of ale and fed through the bung hole until he reaches the ripe old age of five thousand six hundred, twenty one years. After all it's hard to get good servants and Thad put a lot of time and training into the kids.
Thad dismisses the idea, since it's doubtful even the offer of a huge reward for the capture of the perpetrator would find many willing to volunteer. Al and Hubie, liking the idea of a reward, stumble over each other to tell Thad the name of the juvenile. Thad dismisses the serving kids who go back to their usual habit of playing chess behind the bar, then strides up the front stairs and out the door. In no time at all he finds the juvenile,
grabs him by the collar, shaking him until his teeth rattle. Thad, unlike Edmond, has no trouble bouncing the juvenile around like a ball, then drop kicks the wailing New watching as he sails through the air. Thad yells out, "Anyone for a pick up game?"
Meanwhile, in the loft, the eleven year old youngster, Marcus, tosses and turns in the throes of delirium, feverish and suffering, as Edmond yells out to Fufus to fetch a handful of the rings sand. Fufus dashes to ring two, grabs a handful of the magical sands, returning in moments to the loft room. Edmond sprinkles the sand over Marcus. It takes a few moments, but soon, Marcus is sleeping peacefully. Edmond leaves Fufus to sit by the
youngster. Edmond strides back through the kitchen, hitting the doors like a freight train as he heads toward the bar. Al and Hubie tell him about Thad. Edmond smirks glad he wasn't on the receiving end.
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From: mpolanski@aol.com (MPolanski)
Date: 05 Feb 1998 17:20:09 EST
::stepping inot the arena during the mayhem and violence, Melanie is reminded of the Salem witch trials back home. Following a hunch, she slips to the rye flour barrel and sniffs a handful. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of mold, she dashes a note off to Thad.:::
Sir Thaddeus,
Having witnessed the strange behavior of the serving boys, not to mention, that delinquent, I took the liberty of checking your rye barrel, as there was a freshly sliced loaf upon the bar. Unfortunately, your crop must have been contaminated by a variety of mold that grows upon the rye during particularly wet winters. This mold has an halucinogenic property, and has been blamed as the culprit for earth's witch hunt in it's early development. I
would suggest throwing it out.
Sincerely,
MPolanski
::chuckling and shaking her head, she leaves the note upon the bar, and dashes from the arena, before the boys mistake her for a two headed monster::::
Date: 05 Feb 1998 17:20:09 EST
::stepping inot the arena during the mayhem and violence, Melanie is reminded of the Salem witch trials back home. Following a hunch, she slips to the rye flour barrel and sniffs a handful. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of mold, she dashes a note off to Thad.:::
Sir Thaddeus,
Having witnessed the strange behavior of the serving boys, not to mention, that delinquent, I took the liberty of checking your rye barrel, as there was a freshly sliced loaf upon the bar. Unfortunately, your crop must have been contaminated by a variety of mold that grows upon the rye during particularly wet winters. This mold has an halucinogenic property, and has been blamed as the culprit for earth's witch hunt in it's early development. I
would suggest throwing it out.
Sincerely,
MPolanski
::chuckling and shaking her head, she leaves the note upon the bar, and dashes from the arena, before the boys mistake her for a two headed monster::::