Tales from Adrian's Bar

LazyScot · 07-27-2009, 05:29 PM

<This is very silly. It should really be in the lounge. It features characters from the lounge (suitably corrupted by my warped mind). So if you don't like the lounge, this is probably not for you... And if you do like this, just don't expect additional tales too often.
Mods: feel free to move this thread to the lounge if you think appropriate.>

I thought I'd try and collect some of the tales of the goings-on at Adrian's bar; it might even persuade some of Adrian's regulars to make their first visit (it's a very strange and worthwhile experience to be presented with "your usual" for the first time….).

However, to start, I think a little bit of explanation of the place is probably in order…

Although it is called Adrian's, this is really just a quirk to get round the Temporal Licensing Board. It really should be Marc's. It appears that Marc will have done something that really upset them, and so they are disbarring him from holding a Temporal Licence (what he will have been doing, I have no idea, and any time I ask I just get one of his poly-syllabic, enigmatic smiles – so if anyone knows the tale, I'd be delighted if they would post it). Anyhow, to get round this, Marc got Adrian to apply. Rumour has it that Adrian has done far worse, but that the Board is too frightened of Adrian to deny him a request. But of course, that might be just a rumour.

Occasionally, the question is asked "where is Adrian's bar" to which the second best answer (after, of course, it's the blue one next to the fish) is "yes". Since this answer is generally perceived as useless (though, in fact, it is anything but), the next alternative answer is "It's local, but in a non-geographical and non-temporally specific fashion. Wherever and whenever you are, it is only a few minutes away, just round the corner and through the door."

Inside, Adrian's bar does take a little getting used to, in much the same way as sky diving does (hint: the first step is the biggest, you really have to get the art of stopping just right, and collision with flying waterfowl is a notable risk), partly because the dimensions seem to have been rotated around. This means that the bar is delineated by time, rather than space (which may well explain why the chairs in Monday are so uncomfortable and why the Saturday and Sunday sofas are almost impossible to escape from). The only time of any interest, closing time, has safely been locked up inside the event horizon of a black hole that Adrian reportedly keeps tied up in his attic using a couple of spare dimensions he had left over from some party or other. However, this strange architecture does mean you have to take care which door you choose to leave from (given a couple of ZCDs and an infinite number of doors, this is a little harder than it sounds). Even more weirdly, no matter how many times you visit, you never seem to bump into yourself. Or at least that's what the huge rule book says, according the Marc.

The bar is generally staffed by a kaleidoscope of Marcs. If this sounds somewhat disconcerting, it actually seems very normal. Well, relatively speaking, anyway. Or at least it does until he gets carried away with himselves during a cocktail-making song and dance routine and starts arguing over who should do the choreography. Fortunately, at this point the squid usually takes over serving duties. Regardless of the barkeep, the real benefit of Adrian's is that you never have to wait to be served – all that happens is Marc twists a few dimensions just so, and magically a new psychedelic Marc is instantly available just before you think about going to the bar, ready to proffer you exactly the beverage you didn't know you needed.

As for range of drinks, the bar is, well, very Marc and Adrian. As well as the expected range of completely imaginary and laws-of-the-universe defying liquids, it stocks what Adrian proudly announces as the greatest selection of teas in this, or any other, universe. (Exactly how he can make this claim results in another of Marc's polysyllabic enigmatic smiles, or if Adrian happens to have swung by, an "Oook".) As for food, thereby hangs a tale for another day, but the bar is populated with a collection of nuts (which did result in an unfortunate pest problem one day), assorted nibbles and a wide range of chocolate.

Perhaps best of all, it’s a place where the nibbles have no calories, the drinks carry no guilt and the Anatidae fly free...

I suppose it is kinda like a cross between Soap, the original The Banana Splits Adventure Hour and Cheers, except that no-one knows your name, the resident shrink goes on to become a writer not a radio personality and the barman is more.

Oh, and DUCK!

LazyScot · 07-27-2009, 05:35 PM

Normally it would be somewhat disconcerting to walk into a place and smell something you'd never smelt before, and then promptly think "Just what I want, a bowl of Al's excellent vegetable noodle broth," especially in a place that has no catering provision. But then, this is Adrian's bar and, generally speaking, you should only get worried when nothing disconcerting is happening.

"Marc, can I have a----", and, as usual, I was interrupted by Marc handing me a glass of exactly what I wanted. I just can't get use to that. Still, I suppose I should be grateful he waits until I arrive. "So, what's with the smells?"

"It’s the catering challenge I'll decide we'd have today sometime next week."

"Could you only get three bidders?" I asked looking at the running order.

"Well, we have seventeen, but when they found out that we were going to award the contract to Al two years ago, most of them pulled out."

"So you've had Al doing the catering for two years?" I said having difficulty following the temporal linguistics and tense mutilation.

"No, he hasn't started yet. But he will in a couple of weeks."

"Ummm" I said, and was interrupted by Mrs Al trotting over with a bowl of glorious smells drifting quietly out of a bowl that was mostly a work of art.

"Your favourite, to help you decide," said Mrs Al and she trotted away.

"Ummm, " I said, but this time was interrupted by Vivaldi, who seemed to think he was playing some sort of game, running away from somebody in chef's whites wielding a cleaver shouting "can make bacon" in a Slavic accent. This character was being pursued by WetDogEared, who seemed to be either trying to taste the Chefs sweetmeats or help Vivaldi. At least I think that’s what WetDogEared was up to.

"That's Hannibal. Of Hannibal's Elephantine Kebab Katering Konsortium. One of the losing bidders. He seems to have some difficulty with the difference between customers and ingredients," explained Marc with all the enlightment of a power cut.

"And the problem is?" asked Ricky

"Two posts, and onto cannibalism. Is that a new record?" asked pshrynk.

"Look, this is my imagination and my post, so butt out and let me get on with it," I replied with cutting witticism and devastating repartee. Or not.

"Please try and keep the levels of intentionality correct, and stay on the right side of the fourth wall. Otherwise, it makes it really difficult to stay out of character," added Marc.

Given that he provides the drinks, and I'd just started on the vegetable noodle broth, I decided to let him get away with that one. Whatever it was.

"Sushi" said an excited Hannibal, from somewhere over near Sunday, where he'd just caught site of the squid having a game of twister with Hugo and Lefty. At which point he abandoned chasing Vivaldi. It's rather difficult to explain exactly what happened next, but it involved the games room collection of marbles escaping at a plot convenient time, the failure of a set of braces (suspenders, to the US folks) and the following lines in more or less any order.

"woof" said Vivaldi.
"?" said the squid.
"miaow." said one of the house cats deploying genetically engineered claws.
"My crown jewels!" said, or more accurately screamed, Hannibal.
"Heel on blue" said Lefty
"He really should have done some research and customer analysis" mumbled Vivaldi through the cleaver he was holding in his mouth.
"!" said the squid.
"But I was enjoying that," said WetDogEared.
"Ohhh. Double eleventy," said Hugo.

"I guess that means we just have two bidders now," said Marc, activating the Montsmags Enterprises automatic cleaning, sanitising and forensic evidence removing robot.

"I don't see how anyone can top these noodles. They're amazing." I said, thinking of the final scenes of the movie Tampopo. "What else do they do?"

"We decided to start with just the most popular items," said Al trotting out of the kitchen and passing over his proposed menu.

"Vegetable Noodle Soup, Popcorn, Scones with clotted cream and jam, Doughnuts." I read out. "No bacon?"

"We'd rather not. George, our sous-chef is a Gloucester Old Spot," said Al.

At that point the remaining competitor proudly exited the kitchen holding a bowl. At which point Adrian's Offensive Smells and Bio-Chemical Warefare air extraction equipment promptly went to condition Ultra-Tree and started creating a minature vacuum above the bowl. (I'd always wondered why Marc had that particular piece of equipment.)

"That would be Madame Mysteleene." Marc consulted his notes, "proud provider of unique school catering to areas of culinary deprivation…. Sorry, no that reads desperation."

"My Marvellous Mess" said Madame Mysteleene, setting the bowl down with a flourish. Whereupon her Marvellous Mess proceeded to glower threateningly at everyone. Even at Adrian, who'd just appeared out of nowhen.

A description of the contents of the bowl are really rather difficult. If you are familiar with the worst of Dr Quatermass, well that doesn't even start to describe the pulsating gloop. If you're not familiar, think of Japanese SciFi combined with an absence of a special effects budget, school dinners and a political manifesto. As to the colour, I'm glad to say no such colour exists. Or ever can. And I really don't want to think about the Marvellous Mess anymore, if you don't mind.

Adrian wandered a little closer to the bowl, at which point the contents took a swipe at him. I think this could be described as a "not sensible" move on behalf of the Marvellous Mess which promptly found itself sealed up in one of Adrian's zero-dimensional boxes.

Madame Mysteleene looked most disappointed. "Normally I get not only the franchise, but the property as well," she pouted. (I don't know how you manage to talk "pout", but she managed it with aplomb. It must be some sort of finishing school thing.)

At this point, Zelda and Marc looked at each other in a look that is to conspiratorial exactly what a ZCD is to a drink.

"I think we might have some alternative employment for you," they both said, and disappeared off to discuss terms with Madame Mysteleene and her new role as head of kitchens at a certain French school.

The squid disentangled itself from Hugo and Lefty and took over at the bar; " " it announced.

"I proudly declare that Mr & Mrs Al Paca have been the proud holders of Adrian's bar's catering Franchise," translated Pshrynk to a round of applause.

zelda_pinwheel · 07-27-2009, 05:45 PM

Mr. and Mrs. Al Paca, i can confirm, are the lloveliest artists of the science of gastronomie that the universe has / will ever know.

as for Madam Mysteleene, i'm afraid i really can't comment on her. at all. in fact i know nussink. nussink, i tell you !!!

DixieGal · 07-27-2009, 05:53 PM

That clears it all up.

Verencat · 07-27-2009, 07:50 PM

We need a standing ovation smiley!

That's wonderful, please give us more!

zelda_pinwheel · 07-27-2009, 07:52 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Verencat

We need a standing ovation smiley!

i love that idea.

:standing ovation:

Quote:

That's wonderful, please give us more!

yes please. no pressure, of course.

but, you know, soon would be nice. or we coudl call the yeti, maybe...

Verencat · 07-27-2009, 07:56 PM

You think The Yeti would agree on pestering LazyScot when he's his best client?
Worth giving it a shot...

Oh Yeti! I've got pastries for you!

zelda_pinwheel · 07-27-2009, 07:58 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Verencat

You think The Yeti would agree on pestering LazyScot when he's his best client?
Worth giving it a shot...

Oh Yeti! I've got pastries for you!

i think we should offer him fougasse with anchois. i bet that will work.

Verencat · 07-27-2009, 08:01 PM

Arch, I'm not touching that! I'll let you send it over - just try not to let the anchovie's oil drip on Am's pastries, otherwise she won't write, then the Yeti will have to stay next to her to honor is first contract, and yady yady yada, we're out of authors and short on anchovies.

zelda_pinwheel · 07-27-2009, 08:03 PM

chut, i'm with you.

i'm not sending the fougasse in the same batch as the pastry.

montsnmags · 07-28-2009, 09:59 AM

Fan-farkin'-tastic. Brings a tear to this old barman's eye, and apparently a proud and affectionate burst of flatulence from the gibbon's personal armoury (and the former is not related to the latter).

The Barman and the Ape have a Workplace [sniff, ~happy sigh~]

Cheers, and drinks all 'round, my shout,
Marcs

DixieGal · 07-28-2009, 10:08 AM

Who broke the glass on the "Our First Dollar" frame behind the bar and took the cash?

Nate the great · 07-28-2009, 10:12 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by DixieGal

Who broke the glass on the "Our First Dollar" frame behind the bar and took the cash?

I'm more concerned that someone broke the glass on the "Our Worst Pun" frame and released it into the wild.

zelda_pinwheel · 07-28-2009, 10:16 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Nate the great

I'm more concerned that someone broke the glass on the "Our Worst Pun" frame and released it into the wild.

aren't we all.

montsnmags · 07-28-2009, 10:45 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by DixieGal

Who broke the glass on the "Our First Dollar" frame behind the bar and took the cash?

Probably pshrynk. Apparently we're all on some kind of involuntary installment plan, so watch your moneyclip.

Cheers,
Marc

07-27-2009, 05:29 PM	#1
LazyScot DSil Posts: 3,201 Karma: 6895096 Join Date: Sep 2007 Location: Hants, UK Device: Kindle, Cybook	Tales from Adrian's Bar <This is very silly. It should really be in the lounge. It features characters from the lounge (suitably corrupted by my warped mind). So if you don't like the lounge, this is probably not for you... And if you do like this, just don't expect additional tales too often. Mods: feel free to move this thread to the lounge if you think appropriate.> I thought I'd try and collect some of the tales of the goings-on at Adrian's bar; it might even persuade some of Adrian's regulars to make their first visit (it's a very strange and worthwhile experience to be presented with "your usual" for the first time….). However, to start, I think a little bit of explanation of the place is probably in order… Although it is called Adrian's, this is really just a quirk to get round the Temporal Licensing Board. It really should be Marc's. It appears that Marc will have done something that really upset them, and so they are disbarring him from holding a Temporal Licence (what he will have been doing, I have no idea, and any time I ask I just get one of his poly-syllabic, enigmatic smiles – so if anyone knows the tale, I'd be delighted if they would post it). Anyhow, to get round this, Marc got Adrian to apply. Rumour has it that Adrian has done far worse, but that the Board is too frightened of Adrian to deny him a request. But of course, that might be just a rumour. Occasionally, the question is asked "where is Adrian's bar" to which the second best answer (after, of course, it's the blue one next to the fish) is "yes". Since this answer is generally perceived as useless (though, in fact, it is anything but), the next alternative answer is "It's local, but in a non-geographical and non-temporally specific fashion. Wherever and whenever you are, it is only a few minutes away, just round the corner and through the door." Inside, Adrian's bar does take a little getting used to, in much the same way as sky diving does (hint: the first step is the biggest, you really have to get the art of stopping just right, and collision with flying waterfowl is a notable risk), partly because the dimensions seem to have been rotated around. This means that the bar is delineated by time, rather than space (which may well explain why the chairs in Monday are so uncomfortable and why the Saturday and Sunday sofas are almost impossible to escape from). The only time of any interest, closing time, has safely been locked up inside the event horizon of a black hole that Adrian reportedly keeps tied up in his attic using a couple of spare dimensions he had left over from some party or other. However, this strange architecture does mean you have to take care which door you choose to leave from (given a couple of ZCDs and an infinite number of doors, this is a little harder than it sounds). Even more weirdly, no matter how many times you visit, you never seem to bump into yourself. Or at least that's what the huge rule book says, according the Marc. The bar is generally staffed by a kaleidoscope of Marcs. If this sounds somewhat disconcerting, it actually seems very normal. Well, relatively speaking, anyway. Or at least it does until he gets carried away with himselves during a cocktail-making song and dance routine and starts arguing over who should do the choreography. Fortunately, at this point the squid usually takes over serving duties. Regardless of the barkeep, the real benefit of Adrian's is that you never have to wait to be served – all that happens is Marc twists a few dimensions just so, and magically a new psychedelic Marc is instantly available just before you think about going to the bar, ready to proffer you exactly the beverage you didn't know you needed. As for range of drinks, the bar is, well, very Marc and Adrian. As well as the expected range of completely imaginary and laws-of-the-universe defying liquids, it stocks what Adrian proudly announces as the greatest selection of teas in this, or any other, universe. (Exactly how he can make this claim results in another of Marc's polysyllabic enigmatic smiles, or if Adrian happens to have swung by, an "Oook".) As for food, thereby hangs a tale for another day, but the bar is populated with a collection of nuts (which did result in an unfortunate pest problem one day), assorted nibbles and a wide range of chocolate. Perhaps best of all, it’s a place where the nibbles have no calories, the drinks carry no guilt and the Anatidae fly free... I suppose it is kinda like a cross between Soap, the original The Banana Splits Adventure Hour and Cheers, except that no-one knows your name, the resident shrink goes on to become a writer not a radio personality and the barman is more. Oh, and DUCK!

07-27-2009, 05:35 PM	#2
LazyScot DSil Posts: 3,201 Karma: 6895096 Join Date: Sep 2007 Location: Hants, UK Device: Kindle, Cybook	Normally it would be somewhat disconcerting to walk into a place and smell something you'd never smelt before, and then promptly think "Just what I want, a bowl of Al's excellent vegetable noodle broth," especially in a place that has no catering provision. But then, this is Adrian's bar and, generally speaking, you should only get worried when nothing disconcerting is happening. "Marc, can I have a----", and, as usual, I was interrupted by Marc handing me a glass of exactly what I wanted. I just can't get use to that. Still, I suppose I should be grateful he waits until I arrive. "So, what's with the smells?" "It’s the catering challenge I'll decide we'd have today sometime next week." "Could you only get three bidders?" I asked looking at the running order. "Well, we have seventeen, but when they found out that we were going to award the contract to Al two years ago, most of them pulled out." "So you've had Al doing the catering for two years?" I said having difficulty following the temporal linguistics and tense mutilation. "No, he hasn't started yet. But he will in a couple of weeks." "Ummm" I said, and was interrupted by Mrs Al trotting over with a bowl of glorious smells drifting quietly out of a bowl that was mostly a work of art. "Your favourite, to help you decide," said Mrs Al and she trotted away. "Ummm, " I said, but this time was interrupted by Vivaldi, who seemed to think he was playing some sort of game, running away from somebody in chef's whites wielding a cleaver shouting "can make bacon" in a Slavic accent. This character was being pursued by WetDogEared, who seemed to be either trying to taste the Chefs sweetmeats or help Vivaldi. At least I think that’s what WetDogEared was up to. "That's Hannibal. Of Hannibal's Elephantine Kebab Katering Konsortium. One of the losing bidders. He seems to have some difficulty with the difference between customers and ingredients," explained Marc with all the enlightment of a power cut. "And the problem is?" asked Ricky "Two posts, and onto cannibalism. Is that a new record?" asked pshrynk. "Look, this is my imagination and my post, so butt out and let me get on with it," I replied with cutting witticism and devastating repartee. Or not. "Please try and keep the levels of intentionality correct, and stay on the right side of the fourth wall. Otherwise, it makes it really difficult to stay out of character," added Marc. Given that he provides the drinks, and I'd just started on the vegetable noodle broth, I decided to let him get away with that one. Whatever it was. "Sushi" said an excited Hannibal, from somewhere over near Sunday, where he'd just caught site of the squid having a game of twister with Hugo and Lefty. At which point he abandoned chasing Vivaldi. It's rather difficult to explain exactly what happened next, but it involved the games room collection of marbles escaping at a plot convenient time, the failure of a set of braces (suspenders, to the US folks) and the following lines in more or less any order. "woof" said Vivaldi. "?" said the squid. "miaow." said one of the house cats deploying genetically engineered claws. "My crown jewels!" said, or more accurately screamed, Hannibal. "Heel on blue" said Lefty "He really should have done some research and customer analysis" mumbled Vivaldi through the cleaver he was holding in his mouth. "!" said the squid. "But I was enjoying that," said WetDogEared. "Ohhh. Double eleventy," said Hugo. "I guess that means we just have two bidders now," said Marc, activating the Montsmags Enterprises automatic cleaning, sanitising and forensic evidence removing robot. "I don't see how anyone can top these noodles. They're amazing." I said, thinking of the final scenes of the movie Tampopo. "What else do they do?" "We decided to start with just the most popular items," said Al trotting out of the kitchen and passing over his proposed menu. "Vegetable Noodle Soup, Popcorn, Scones with clotted cream and jam, Doughnuts." I read out. "No bacon?" "We'd rather not. George, our sous-chef is a Gloucester Old Spot," said Al. At that point the remaining competitor proudly exited the kitchen holding a bowl. At which point Adrian's Offensive Smells and Bio-Chemical Warefare air extraction equipment promptly went to condition Ultra-Tree and started creating a minature vacuum above the bowl. (I'd always wondered why Marc had that particular piece of equipment.) "That would be Madame Mysteleene." Marc consulted his notes, "proud provider of unique school catering to areas of culinary deprivation…. Sorry, no that reads desperation." "My Marvellous Mess" said Madame Mysteleene, setting the bowl down with a flourish. Whereupon her Marvellous Mess proceeded to glower threateningly at everyone. Even at Adrian, who'd just appeared out of nowhen. A description of the contents of the bowl are really rather difficult. If you are familiar with the worst of Dr Quatermass, well that doesn't even start to describe the pulsating gloop. If you're not familiar, think of Japanese SciFi combined with an absence of a special effects budget, school dinners and a political manifesto. As to the colour, I'm glad to say no such colour exists. Or ever can. And I really don't want to think about the Marvellous Mess anymore, if you don't mind. Adrian wandered a little closer to the bowl, at which point the contents took a swipe at him. I think this could be described as a "not sensible" move on behalf of the Marvellous Mess which promptly found itself sealed up in one of Adrian's zero-dimensional boxes. Madame Mysteleene looked most disappointed. "Normally I get not only the franchise, but the property as well," she pouted. (I don't know how you manage to talk "pout", but she managed it with aplomb. It must be some sort of finishing school thing.) At this point, Zelda and Marc looked at each other in a look that is to conspiratorial exactly what a ZCD is to a drink. "I think we might have some alternative employment for you," they both said, and disappeared off to discuss terms with Madame Mysteleene and her new role as head of kitchens at a certain French school. The squid disentangled itself from Hugo and Lefty and took over at the bar; " " it announced. "I proudly declare that Mr & Mrs Al Paca have been the proud holders of Adrian's bar's catering Franchise," translated Pshrynk to a round of applause.

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07-27-2009, 05:45 PM	#3
zelda_pinwheel zeldinha zippy zeldissima Posts: 27,827 Karma: 921169 Join Date: Dec 2007 Location: Paris, France Device: eb1150 & is that a nook in her pocket, or she just happy to see you?	Mr. and Mrs. Al Paca, i can confirm, are the lloveliest artists of the science of gastronomie that the universe has / will ever know. as for Madam Mysteleene, i'm afraid i really can't comment on her. at all. in fact i know nussink. nussink, i tell you !!!

07-27-2009, 05:53 PM	#4
DixieGal Hi There! Posts: 7,473 Karma: 2930523 Join Date: Feb 2008 Location: Ft Lauderdale Device: iPad	That clears it all up.

07-27-2009, 07:50 PM	#5
Verencat Wizard Posts: 2,615 Karma: 96491 Join Date: May 2009 Location: Montreal, Qc Device: xxx	We need a standing ovation smiley! That's wonderful, please give us more!

07-27-2009, 07:56 PM	#7
Verencat Wizard Posts: 2,615 Karma: 96491 Join Date: May 2009 Location: Montreal, Qc Device: xxx	You think The Yeti would agree on pestering LazyScot when he's his best client? Worth giving it a shot... Oh Yeti! I've got pastries for you!

07-27-2009, 08:01 PM	#9
Verencat Wizard Posts: 2,615 Karma: 96491 Join Date: May 2009 Location: Montreal, Qc Device: xxx	Arch, I'm not touching that! I'll let you send it over - just try not to let the anchovie's oil drip on Am's pastries, otherwise she won't write, then the Yeti will have to stay next to her to honor is first contract, and yady yady yada, we're out of authors and short on anchovies.

07-27-2009, 08:03 PM	#10
zelda_pinwheel zeldinha zippy zeldissima Posts: 27,827 Karma: 921169 Join Date: Dec 2007 Location: Paris, France Device: eb1150 & is that a nook in her pocket, or she just happy to see you?	chut, i'm with you. i'm not sending the fougasse in the same batch as the pastry.

07-28-2009, 09:59 AM	#11
montsnmags Grand Sorcerer Posts: 10,155 Karma: 4632658 Join Date: Nov 2007 Device: none	Fan-farkin'-tastic. Brings a tear to this old barman's eye, and apparently a proud and affectionate burst of flatulence from the gibbon's personal armoury (and the former is not related to the latter). The Barman and the Ape have a Workplace [sniff, ~happy sigh~] Cheers, and drinks all 'round, my shout, Marcs

07-28-2009, 10:08 AM	#12
DixieGal Hi There! Posts: 7,473 Karma: 2930523 Join Date: Feb 2008 Location: Ft Lauderdale Device: iPad	Who broke the glass on the "Our First Dollar" frame behind the bar and took the cash?

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