11-29-2009, 02:43 PM | #46 |
DSil
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Music Night at Adrian's (Part 3)
<When purchasing from our sponsors, please remember to mention our name. Thank you> Anyhow back to the present now as all that was happened (English is struggling again; sorry) about three bars down to the right (which in Adrian's dimensions is, in fact, two weeks into the future). And as a result, we now have a music "open mike" day. And I'm now wearing a cycling helmet with pointy protection just in case the experts decide more experiments are needed with that silly gun thing (which is very strange, as I'm sure I didn't have one when I crawled in and had a spatial co-incidence event with an anas platyrhynchos). (By the way, does anyone have some spare parentheses? I seem to be running very low for some reason. Apologies. And I seem to be suffering from a bad bout of digression-itis) Whilst I was pondering my newly appeared headgear, Pshrynk appeared. (Normally I wouldn't mention his companions, but given that they later get involved in involuntary powered flight as a result of interaction with one of the prime actors, I feel I have to.) He was accompanied by Portia and Petunia, who appeared to be identical twins, and were wearing classic little black dresses, high-heels and carrying matching clutches. This was, admittedly, slightly confusing. At this point, I feel I should explain that I am using the term "slightly" in its literal sense. As in "three doughnuts last slightly longer than two doughnuts", rather than my more normal usual cynical and ironic use as in "squirrels are slightly dangerous". But I digress yet again; back to the story…. Now, it was slightly confusing not because they looked drop dead gorgeous (though it was somewhat worryingly that I thought they did), or because Marc gave them each a glass of dry white wine in what, judging by the sound when they chimed them together, was very high quality crystal, or even the incredibly elegant way they sat on the barstools. Or even the way they looked at Pshyrnk. Nope. None of the above. It was that they were Pandaborgs. And as I was trying to get my mind round pshyrnk's companions, the warmup act started. I have absolutely no idea how Marc talked VivaldiRules into doing the warmup act, or how long he has been the lead singer of a previously unknown band called The Venerable Dawgs. And I must admit his, and his band's rendition of The Soggy Bottom Boys hit "I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow" from the film Oh Brother Where Art Thou was an instant hit, and had everyone dancing. Heck, it even had me doing a little jig based on one I'd seen in the ceilidh in Local Hero. A couple of songs later The Venerable Dawgs came to the end of their set. From their earlier songs, I'd never taken them as fans Donny Osmond, but I must admit that their rendition of "And they call it Puppy Love" was, ummm, both unique, uproarious and very popular, especially with the slight re-writing of the words (though I do wonder if Marc was involved in the textual revisions). I must admit I was disappointed that the headline act wasn't Zelda and the Bohemians, as I had been hoping, for some time, to persuade them to do a version of the Shirley Bassey hit "History Repeating". (Exactly how I came to have been hoping for this for some time given that the cause hadn't yet happened is just one of those Adrionian mysteries that are better left unopened.) As I was madly trying to beat my mind into submission and stop it investigating yet another Adrionian cause and effect conundrum, the headline act for the day stepped onto the stage and was announced by the MC Marc. "Put your hands together, and welcome your friend and mine, The Yeti and His Ukulele." "Wait… What?" I said pausing distractedly from my attempts to pummel my mind into submission. "Oi! Copyright infringement!" responded pshrynk, "that'll be $300." "What is it with you and three hundred dollar bills?" "Have you any idea how much my professional insurance has gone up since I disclosed that I associate with you?" "Not half as much as it would have if you hadn't disclosed our tender ministrations." Before this discussion could get out of hand, ShortlyNCuddlyAm gave both of us a looked that indicated she would greatly appreciate some silence for the Yeti. And anyone who can silence the Pshyrnk with a look should be respected. So we settled down for the Yeti's set. I must admit that I had expected some rather dull George Formby songs. I was certainly not expecting a major Queen hit. And certainly didn't know that the Ukulele could sound like it did under the Yeti's, err…, paws? Nor that it would blend so well with the backing tracks that Marc provided. And so we were entertained to a rendition of Bohemian Rapsody (well, at least I got to listen to some sort of bohemian, albeit not Zelda's ones). And I'd never have guessed that the Yeti had such an incredible voice. Glancing over at pshrynk, I noticed that both Portia and Petunia were more than a little hypnotised by the Yeti's performance. Everything about the stance, posture and body language seemed to say they were besotted. (How I knew about Pandaborgs' body language, whether or not it is in a little black dress, is beyond me. I glared at my mind and it glared back. Then, still nursing its bruises, it decided not to pursue this particular conundrum.) Whilst I was idly wondering how Am would take this, the Yeti moved onto his next song. And once again, his selection amazed me. Robert Palmer's Addicted to Love??? At the thought of the lights being on, but no-one at home, Portia and Petunia's expressions came to mind, so looked quickly over to see what they were up to now. Only to find they were not there. Looking around I suddenly saw them on stage. From nowhere they had acquired some electric guitars and were playing the role of backing performers exactly like Mr Palmer's video. I glanced over at Am, and learned something very interesting about little black dresses. They appear to be stab proof. At least that is the only explanation I can have for the fact that Portia and Petunia were completely unharmed by the daggers contained in Am's glare at them. The Yeti, who was far too effectively dancing with them, was very fortunate to have such warm fur; Am's stare would probably have slightly inconvenienced a lesser creature. (At this point, I should indicate that my use of the term slightly here has returned to the more normal ironic, and not literal, sense.) It's fair to point out that pshrynk was none to pleased with Portia and Petunia abandoning him, but his glares were getting knocked aside by Am's like so much confetti in the middle of a tornado. As the song drew to a close, Portia and Petunia drew closer to the Yeti. And they didn't have dancing on their minds. They clearly had thoughts of acutelation. How many of you are familiar with Taz, the Tasmanian devil of Looney Tunes fame, and more specific its mode of locomotion? Well, that particular whirlwind started up where Am had been sitting and headed in a straight line for the stage, specifically Portia and Petunia. Now Evolution and Engineering are fabulous things, and can achieve the most incredible feats. And the Pandaborg have clearly been the beneficiary of both. However, despite this lavish attention, Portia and Petunia really had not evolved to withstand an angry Am. Am's whirlwind met them just before they could start their planned acutelation of the Yeti. At which point Portia and Petunia learned, whilst travelling in opposite directions, that flight was non-trivial, they were very ill-equipped for airborne steering (and even less so for a controlled deceleration) and that the walls of Adrian's are very very hard, and very, very resistant to impacts. It's amazing just how defensive of her Yeti Am is, even when angry with him. Having thus departed Portia and Petunia from the stage, Am gave the Yeti a final glare and stormed off back to her drink. The Yeti shrugged sheepishly (sheepish shrugs are something that at least this Yeti was well evolved for) as he watched Am sit down. Looking suitably embarrassed and very apologetic, he settled down to give the next song of his set. Thinking briefly, the Yeti started another song. It was the first time I could remember ever seeing Marc discombolated (at least whilst in Adrian's), as he desperately sought the right backing track. As a peace offering, the Yeti was singing Queen's "One Year of Love". And it seemed to do the trick, as Am was mollified. The next few songs covered an impressive range. They included an introduction to the mandatory George Formby song (though, it is fair to say, one or two Adrionians would have preferred to stay in ignorance of this), a rendition Madness' Our House (I suspect simply to see Pshyrnk's face), It's a Kind of Magic by Queen (assisted by some incredible special effects courtesy of Marc, that led some lurkers to take centre stage with the Yeti), and Bleed to Love Her by Fleetwood Mac (I suspect that his might have been targeted at Am). Slowly the lights in Adrian's dimmed and a spotlight gently illuminated the Yeti for his final song, and he returned to another Queen song. Gently, the sound of other instruments blended seamlessly with the Yeti's voice and Ukulele as he started his version of "These are the Days of our Lives". Changing past to the present, as he sang "When I look and I find" he invited Am back up onto the stage. And as he sang the final lines, everyone was entranced (even Portia and Petunia who had pulled themselves back together and where hiding behind pshrynk), and he and Am where looking into each others eyes, the past mishap with the Panaborg forgiven. There wasn't a dry eye left. You know, if someone had told me when I entered Adrian's that day that a Ukulele playing Yeti would bring tears to my eyes, I'd probably have made some cynical or sarcastic quip. But today I think I've discovered just how overrated cynicism and sarcasm are. And, with everyone else in the bar, I applauded with tears in my eyes, as Am quickly ushered the Yeti out of Adrian's. |
11-29-2009, 03:38 PM | #47 | ||||||||||||||||||
zeldinha zippy zeldissima
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11-29-2009, 09:15 PM | #48 | |||||||||||||||
Grand Sorcerer
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11-29-2009, 10:33 PM | #49 |
zeldinha zippy zeldissima
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... and of the entire list, "monkey playing guitar" is the one video you choose to embed. of course.
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11-29-2009, 10:59 PM | #50 |
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11-29-2009, 11:01 PM | #51 |
zeldinha zippy zeldissima
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11-30-2009, 03:29 AM | #52 |
Icanhasdonuts?
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Absolutley fricking brilliant!!!!
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11-30-2009, 10:18 AM | #53 |
WWHALD
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:applauds:
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12-06-2009, 02:26 PM | #54 |
DSil
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The Advent Calendar
Some kind, anonymous soul sent me a short piece of security camera footage that took place just before I entered. If you will, imagine the following playing, silently, on a security monitor.
Marc looks at his watch and steps out from behind the bar with a tape measure and a bag. Whilst beckoning Pshrynk over, he moves a stool nearer to the door. With Pshrynk's help he makes various measurements and places the stool very precisely, and opens his bag. An animate discussion takes place where both Marc and Pshrynk gesture at the stool. Eventually Marc stands on the stool, as Pshrynk steadies it. From the bag Pshrynk passes a long rope that ends in a hook and appears to be covered in some sort of Velcro. More measurements, adjustments and discussions take place. Marc affixes the rope to the ceiling, leaving the hook dangling just behind the stool, slightly below head height. Then both Marc and Pshrynk nod happily. And at this point the video ended. As you may have noticed, I seem, of late, to be having some difficulty entering Adrian's. However, I devised a foolproof plan. A plan so foolproof, that even mother nature couldn't evolve a fool fool enough to derail it. A plan that was worthy of placement in the Museum of the Unbelievably Brilliant Plans. A plan that was guaranteed to get me a doctorate of planology for the work-famous University of Atlantis' Department of Forward Planning. Pride comes before a fall? The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley? Mice, jam and flip-charts? As Zelda would say "pfft". Here's the plan. First off, if I can't avoid the collision, I'll simply need to protect myself. So I developed a variation of the giant foam helm of stupidity, by wrapping it in a giant knitted woolly hat. Even in the event of a major thumpage, I'd feel nothing. Cunning, huh? But that's not all. I've noticed that the avians have a preference for hitting me front on. This is obviously since the resultant increase in approaching velocity assists the impact. So, if I travel backward, and travel backward fast, they will be struggling to catch up, and if they do, the impact will be significantly reduced. Didn't I say this was brilliant? Even Lefty would be impressed. Anyhow, that is how I came to be running backwards into Adrian's wearing an enormous woollen hat stuffed full of protective foam. It was about two seconds (or 3 meters in Adrionian dimensions), into my plan that several key points hit me: 1. That I might not have thought this plan though as well as I should as I couldn't see where I was going. 2. A stool (okay, technically I hit the stool, rather than the other way around, but, o holder of the pendant of pedantry, unless you want to be the subject of one of Marc's extreme experimental cocktails (of which more anon), I suggest you let this one go), which caused me to start falling over. 3. A large vecro'd hook (okay, technically it hit my woolly hat, but, o holder of the pendant, remember the cocktail threat) that pulled off the protective helm as I fell over. 4. A duck THWACK Thump. As I came too, I vowed to listen more to the Wisdom of The Bard. As I lay there, the conundrum of why I get knocked unconscious, but the birds never do, sauntered by. I looked at the conundrum. The conundrum looked back. My mind studied the conundrum. The conundrum giggled. My mind and I looked at each other and back at the conundrum. It shrugged and wandered off to the bar for a drink. Both My mind and I were glad that it had disappeared. Eventually, I pulled myself up to the bar. Unusually, standing behind it was Pshrynk, who put down a clipboard, and passed a drink. (It dawned on me how natural he looked. I wonder if his qualification required a minor in bar-keeping, or something similar.) "You look like you need a bit more fizz. Here. Prosecco Riserva. It's a Bisol." "Where's Marc." I said, sipping the Prosecco (by the way, it was, as always with the drinks at Adrian's, truly excellent). "Out doing some Christmas shopping for Adrian. All of them." And as I looked around I notice that all the Marc's, even those busy serving customers, weren't there. (On reflection, I must be getting used to Adrian's as that does seem even slightly strange.) "This is exceptionally nice. Any ch—" I notice that Pshrynk has already topped up my glass. "I thought only Marc did that?" "He left notes," said Pshrynk indicating the clipboard. I picked it up, and noticed a whole list of drinks, names and times. Turning it over I noticed some scribbles. "What's this?" "Oh, Marc's got some idea about a constitution and independence." "Independence from what?" "I have no idea." Several lines more or less literally (this is Adrian's after all) kidnapped my attention, and promised only to release it unharmed if I read them. Somewhat distracted by the Prosecco, the idea of Adrian's independence, and possibly a mild dose of concussion, I acquiesced. ""We hold these sillinesses to be self-aware"? "Laughter, non-sequitors and the pursuit of punnage"?" "It's still a work in progress," said Pshrynk as he proffered a card with a Christmas scene, covered in little doors. "Oh, an Advent calendar," I said, putting down the clipboard. "Today's has not yet been opened. May I?" "Of course," I opened the door, and behind it were the words Which Way Is Up?. At that point Pshrynk placed a small drink in front of me. At that point some uniformed people walked up to the bar. (How come they got to do that unharmed? Not fair.) "Is Marc about?" they asked "No. Can I give him a message?" Pshrynk asked. "Yes. De do do do de da da da." "Anything else?" "No," they said, and with that they left. Pshrynk and I looked at each other, but before we could say anything, Elle (the Cash Register and part time shrink) ran past holding a sprig of mistletoe in her… actually, the censor would rather I left that up to your imagination. (Clearly, the censor doesn't know you lot very well.) She was chasing the JukeBox who had turned Purple, falsetto and was dancing around her to the sounds of International Lover. "But SAM, just a little kiss…" pleaded Elle. "SAM?" I asked Pshrynk. "Supplier of Amazing Music. I think she got bored calling him the Jukebox. And she seems to have a thing for acronyms. Slightly worrying." "Baby, I know it's hard to believe," sang SAM the Jukebox "You know you want to, just a little Christmas kiss under the mistletoe…" "Maybe, if you're good girl" sang Sam as he and Elle danced out of earshot and into the middle of next week. I noticed I'd finished my Prosecco, so, possibly still befuddled, I tried the drink in front of me. It was, ummm, different. Even for Adrian's, it was different. At this point I think it is worth explaining a few definitions that will be shortly used. Firstly is the term "extreme". You know the word pink. Now there is a perfectly normal sane version of this colour. The sort that a chunk of humanity has as their skin colour. Then there is Pink, as in the colour that little girls insist in dressing in. This is somewhat less reasonable. Next there is PINK. This is the dayglow colour used in lycra and worn by the colour-blind or the misanthropic (or the colour-blind misanthropic). Finally there is extreme pink. Extreme pink is the sort of pink that makes little girls scream in horror. It is the colour that even misanthropes leave in their wardrobe. It is the sort of colour that marches up to your eyeballs, scoops them out with a pair of rusty nails, puts them into a golf-ball washing machine before jumping up and down on them. Then for good measure it places them into a liquidiser. And just in case there was any doubt, it assaults the dangling optic nerve with an exceptionally salty class five hurricane. Finally re-inserts your eyeballs. So now you understand what the qualifier extreme means. Next, is the term experimental. Experimental is normally a coded way of saying "buggered if I know what's going to happen". Unfortunately, by that definition, everything in Adrian's would count as experimental, so (and in order to comply with the Working Time Directive (Words)) further qualifications on the meaning have been introduced when it is used within, or in relation to anything happening within, Adrians. First off, even Adrian himself would have to truthfully say, even after taking the advantages of future temporal retro-echoing techniques, it was difficult to be sure of the outcome. Next, after describing the experiment, Laws (of Physics) and Reality should be seen running in the other direction as fast as they possibly can. Finally, Marc should be quoted as saying "I think this is a good idea." That's the definition diversion done, so lets return… "What was that," I asked, indicating the now-empty glass. "Which Way Is Up," stated Pshrynk. "That way," I said, still somewhat befuddled. Then it dawned on me that I was pointing at the floor. "Oh no," and with that I fell off the floor and hit the ceiling. "The advent calendar. It's a cocktail advent calendar. You opened the door, so you get the cocktail" "Just whose bright idea was that," I said as Up got bored being on the floor and wandered over to a wall. So I found myself standing on the wrong surface and subject to another rapid repositioning (i.e. I fell against the opposite wall). "Marc. He had some products from his lab he wanted to try out." With that he indicated at door behind the bar I'd never noticed before covered in bio- and chemical hazard warning signs, radiation monitors and assorted scary looking hieroglyphics. Glowing gently with a dull sound that sets ones teeth on edge was the sign "Marc's Experimental Extreme Cocktails Laboratory." "And just why did he think it was a good idea?" I asked, as Up got bored and decided to head over to next Thursday. This left Down confused for a little bit. "They take your mind off your troubles. Anyway, be thankfully you didn't open Tuesday's like Slite. Mind you, I thought he'd have been immune." "Why, and what did he get." Down still seemed confused by next Thursday, so I was hopefully I'd stopped falling. Now if only I could work out how to shake off the effects of Marc's concoction. "The Head Turner. And the active ingredient in it is apparently Surströmming" "So what did it do?" "Look for yourself," said Pshrynk, indicating last Tuesday where Slite was just being served the cocktail by one of the Marcs who was away Christmas Shopping. At that point, Down gave a shrug, thought last Tuesday was as good as anything and headed over there, rapidly followed by me. Landing with a thump on one of Tuesday's armchairs I saw Slite taste the first advent cocktail. He blinked twice. At this point I'd expected him to do something like an impression of an owl. Instead his mouth sort of folded in on itself, rapidly followed by the rest of his face and head. Then his mouth, followed by the rest of his face and head reappeared, but backwards. Slite blinked three times and the process repeated itself. "Antitode?" I asked last Tuesday's Marc that wasn't there, just as I saw Up getting bored with next Thursday and starting to try and find somewhere interesting. "Make your sodding mind up," shouted Down at Up, startling everyone. Grumpily Up settled into next Thursday with a ill grace (I don't know why Grace was ill, but I suspect it was something to do with one of Marc's cocktails. I just hope she gets better soon.) "Anything for my customers," said Mrs Paca, trotting over with a plate of British Christmas mince pies. "My catering is always an antidote for Marc's cocktails." "Spoil sport," said the absent Marc. I gratefully ate a mince pie (and it was one of the best I've ever had, full of the most wonderful dried fruits preserve and in a glorious pastry). And promptly fell back to where I started. I glanced at the other open doors on the advent calendar: Wile E Coyote, The Time Warp, The Acutelator and Added Accents. "Added Accents?" I asked Pshrynk. "Hmmm. I got that one. I just need to figure out my revenge," he replied, moving in an uneasy fashion as if he had been having difficulty sitting for a day or so. "So what's Marc up to with these extreme cocktails?" "Trying to get Adrian's reclassified as a munitions factory or store, I suspect." And with that Pshrynk indicated a huge stockpile of pre-mixed, labelled cocktails, pre-packaged into miniatures. "Munitions, huh? So, avoid the advent calendar, then?" "That would be a good idea." "And let me guess, that's not one of Marc's extreme cocktails." "Now that would be telling." Pshrynk also seemed to have got Marc's poly-syllabic enigmatic smiles down to perfect as well. |
12-06-2009, 02:43 PM | #55 |
zeldinha zippy zeldissima
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unbelievable ! the (you-know-what) is a conspiracy !!! that's almost as bad as the cake (it's a lie.) ! poor lazyscot. i really did think that plan was foolproof. i mean, woolly hats are renowned for being the answer to everything !
anyway. so avoid the advent calendar, and definitely have someone look into marc's munitions factory. maybe make sure it's near a school zone. excellent advice. |
12-06-2009, 05:38 PM | #56 |
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I'm speechless. In an odd way it made perfect "sense".
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12-06-2009, 08:40 PM | #57 | |
Grand Sorcerer
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A. A woolly jumper This is the earliest joke I remember, other than, of course, the one that I didn't "get" until high school: Q. How do you get down off an elephant? A. You don't, you get down off a... something... can't remember. Do you remember LazyScot? |
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12-06-2009, 08:41 PM | #58 | ||
zeldinha zippy zeldissima
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12-06-2009, 09:02 PM | #59 |
WWHALD
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Bravo! (It made sense in a non-odd way to me - should i be worried? )
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12-07-2009, 01:53 PM | #60 |
Beepbeep n beebeep, yeah!
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Having the ability to mix Montsnmags Cocktails is the first week of Pshrynk Residency. Unfortunately, Antidotes was week two and I was home sick...
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