Archive Stone the Third

Message: hmmm what's this?
Author: for Whiskers - Farida Siduri
Date: Dec 4, 2000 08:50

I was enjoying the scratching behind the ear very much, felt real good. This woman human knew how to do it well. The man human on the floor finaly got enough courage to have a seat by the bar. The two sacks he was carrying had my curiousity. I couldn't take it any longer, I just had to go and investigate what was in the bags.

I walked up to where he placed the bags. Paw out stretched I patted at one of the bags, it made some clanging noise. Didn't realy sound like food to me. Then I had to pat the other one to see what noise it made. It made a swishing noise and a delectable scent came from that bag. Could it be food? I look at the man human, he seems to look very uncomfortable. I wonder why.

Message: A Tale of Many Noses...
Author: Sniff -- smells nothing! - Tuhul UtNapishtim
Date: Dec 7, 2000 02:51

Who knows precisely what piques the interest of a Siduri? Was it a shift in the UtNapishtim's tone, as he addressed the proprietess? Did the sliding impedimenta, stored at his feet make some complaint, as the sacks settled into a more stable configuration on the floor? If so, the sounds were too soft to register in the ears of a Tuhul, but evidently chimed loudly within the range of Whiskers' auditory apparatus. Ms. Furry-Sididuri pushed off the Ubaratutu, in a very startling fashion. The pachyderm-jockey was spinning on the newly oiled barstool, and so great was her momentum that a dangerous array of edged steel showered outward in a potentially lethal spray -- her verbiage was just as edged, and only a little less lethal ...

Whiskers, leaping Tuhul's way, closed the distance between them in a minute fraction of a second. The UtNapishtim was trying to mimic the colorful jargon of the Ubaratutu, but did not have quite the space, or time in which to deliver himself of some of the choicer Tuhulian explosions of dismay. But, Fur-Face did not seem inclined to dine on UtNapishtims either, apparently something was equally lacking in savor and toothsomeness in both Tuhul and the Ubaratutu -- thanks be to Marduk!

Recovering quickly, Tuhul saw that Whiskers was more interested in the sacks than his own quivering flesh. She rapidly discarded the clanking trove of silver antiques, and batted the more quiet of the two sacks. The twisted and bound opening was partially undone, and under the inquisitive batting paw, even the practically nose dead Tuhul (he'd suffered terribly from allergies in his youth, and too many eucalyptus packings had finally burnt out the poor sniffer completely) could catch the scent of peanut oil-preserved Menhaden wafting upwards.

Whiskers was cocking her great head, first to this side, and then the other, clearly suggesting that 'ole nimble fingers' finish opening the knots, since there was definitely no need now to continue the failed attempt at concealment. UtNapishtims are adaptable, if not actually clever enough to stay out of 'situations' in the first place, and Tuhul saw a 'silvery lining' to this turn of events: "Oh, yes, you've found my little present, have you?" Whiskers' impatiently curling lip showed plainly that she had, and some assistance in removing the wrapping should be forthcoming, soon. "Here we go, my lady," a twist, a snap, and the cords fell away. Tuhul's arm just entered the sack a fraction of a second before the questing head, and he pulled forth a most delectable mass of peanut oil soaked fish ...

'Counter-bound Siduri' was wailing something about splatters on the spotless floor, Ubaratutu was moaning about the "stench" (obviously she had never had allergies...) but Whiskers pre-empted all by politely snatching the gooey mess in her jaws, but was very careful not to bite the 'hand-that-feeds'!

Tuhul was feeling quite jolly at finding the Furry Siduri so easily bribed, and as he made a mental note to always arrive here 'fish-in-hand', both the Ubaratutu and the 'Clean shaven Siduri' commenced to send up a most remarkable set of dueling howls!

Of course the mere length of the proboscis of the pachyderm should be sufficient advertisement that elephants -- even the more embarrassingly painted-up ones -- have the best of all possible sniffers. A rumbling, perhaps another cheap earthen dam giving way to some rushing flood-crest, perhaps the mere sound of a hungry elephant squeezing into a narrow door with an urgency born of the need to find the source of that peanut buttery scent ...

What a shame, if someone did not do something, soon, "The Barley" would barely be there ... such a pity, those lovely stained glass windows, the delightfully colored, and very breakable swinging, swinging hard, swinging lamps ...

Message: Ummm, smell yum
Author: as Tusker - Inaras Ubaratutu
Date: Dec 8, 2000 17:16

Umm. Smell yum. Real yum.

Move nose in through opening. *sniff* *sniff* . Squeeze.

Mistress charges forward, says "NO!" "BACK!"

Recognize her words; her voice. Ummm. Back.

Mistress strokes me. Back I move. *sniff* *sniff* . Proboscis continues to investigate.

She pulls down a bag off my back. Peanuts, many peanuts. Not with oil, though. Not so pungent.

I eat them. I know the word NO.

Sorrow. I step back. I notice inside a biggish furry beast. He gets to eat it. *sniff* *sniff* .

But I listen to my mistress. We have been years together. She will make sure I get big, tasty dinner soon. Maybe I don't want what the furry thing is eating -- has fish in it. Ptuuui.

Mistress strokes me, I settle down. Patience.

Message: After settling the tusked beast down,
Author: as Inaras - Inaras Ubaratutu
Date: Dec 8, 2000 17:22

I re-enter the Barley Cafe, glare at the other patron, stride up to the bartender, slug down the rest of my second drink, and ask, politely, as to whether the cafe-tender has any fodder or interesting vegetative matter which I can use to treat my elephant.

"I'm sorry -- he's usually not that ill-behaved." I shake my head. And, if any vegetative fodder is available, I will so go feed the elephant. And then return to my place at the counter, looking over at Whiskers, who is contentedly bathing herself after having finished up all the oily fish.

Message: Cleaning the Barley - One Bath Begets Another ...
Author: on leave until 1 /5/ 2001 - Tuhul UtNapishtim
Date: Dec 11, 2000 20:21

Well, the Ubaratutu had handled that situation quite nicely! All that served to remind the occupants of their close call with the forces of demolition, were a few cracks about the door (where Tusker had tried to gain entry), one or four character-defining stress patterns that the stained-glass windows had developed, and some minor perturbations of swing in the gentle circuits of the hanging lamps. The Furry-Siduri was lapping at a recalcitrant glob of fishy-peanutty-goo that had lodged in the hard-to-reach spot just under the chin. 'Clean-shaven Siduri' was expressing her sense of wonder that anything was still in good-plumb, and congratulating herself upon the fact that the casks and tuns of refreshments were, as yet, unbroken. She was further considering an expansion into the vacant lot across the winding street -- perhaps a 'conveyance' parking garden might be worth the investment, heavily walled and gated -- for the peace of mind of the conveyees, of course.

Feeling a bit responsible for the excitement, Tuhul was digging about in the 'clanking' sack, and careful not to think too loudly about the act of 'fishing-out' the object he had now in hand, he pulled forth a silver, moss agate, and coral beaker, a genuine tripple-measuring vessel from which three full tankards of golden liquid could be dispensed in style.

"Uh, my lady proprietess, accept if you will, this mark of my gratitude. May your double-malts retain forever this piquant snap, and delightfully quaffable flavor!" He slid the baroque object across the marble to Farida's waiting hands, and then buried his face up to the nose in his tank of malted ...

Farida was not quite sure what to do with the ornate thing, and pointed a severe finger at a set of deeply chiseled initials 'Flv. Amts.' Finishing his pull at the malted, Tuhul, ever- ready, pointed out (verbally): "Ah, I see that you have already found the 'maker's marks,' and note where it says 'Fluidivus Amountas,' telling all that it is correctly gauged for 'Fluid Amounts,' as opposed to dry measures!"

Farida scrutinized the great-beaker more closely, and moved into better light next to the Ubaratutu. Tuhul pretended not to hear as Farida and Inaras conferred: "What do you think?" "Well," Inaras began slowly, staring hard at the initials, "I might 'ave thought they were 'owner's marks,' but, a gift is a gift ..."

Furry Siduri added her comments in the form of a long hard look at the object, and then a tentative lick, followed by a more vigorous tonguing -- she had found some of Tuhul's fishy burdened finger prints on the silver surface -- but both Farida and Inaras took the evident feline joy in the vessel as evidence of its 'sterling worth,' and acceptability.

The fishy residues now exhausted, a clean Whiskers decided to grant the lustral benefit of her tongue to the Ubaratutu -- whose heavy, but carefully applied facial paints were, of course fish-oil based ... while one large paw settled on the Ubaratutu's shoulder for balance, and also to pin Inaras in place, her great rasping washcloth of a tongue dabbed and slurped until a freshly peeled Ubaratutu face began to gleam in the lamplight.

The UtNapshtim was in need of a stiffer spine, as laughter threatened to reduce him to a jovial, gelatinous state. The spluttering Ubaratutu, commander-extrordinaire of pachyderms, appeared to have no influence whatsoever with Siduri's. Farida was scolding, fuming, pushing against Whiskers, who merely compensated for that light force with subtle shiftings of weight, and continued to 'clean' the Ubaratutu. Coming to the end of the fishy taste, and getting down to the raw Ubaratutu, Furry-Siduri, sighed, and turned her amber eyes over to the guffawing Tuhul. Her keen occulars sighting a stalactite-like drip of fishy goo that matted one side of his beard, she decided the presence of a good-grooming tongue would also be welcomed in that quarter.

Now both Ubaratutu and Farida were wracked by laughter, apparently a most infectious condition here in "The Barley." Tuhul, pinned to his own stool, felt in turn the renewing vigor of that facial application, and his curled beard was soon, most deliberately straightened, fine-combed, and devoid of the last molecule of fishy stain. Whiskers' sigh of contentment at two jobs, well-done, suddenly set all three of the room's other occupants into giggles, snorts, and whinnies of laughter.

Inaras, dug about in her purse, and flipped a handful of coins onto the counter, "Drinks all around! And pour yourself one, hostess!" Matching the Ubaratutu's gesture Tuhul dropped more silver onto the counter-top, "And another, after this one, if you please!"

Whiskers called for milk, and outside -- elephants also have excellent hearing -- Tusker politely trumpeted for barley water, unfermented of course. The five then settled into the lampglow, toasting each others' healths' and breaking into occasional snatches of 'mock-derisive' song, questioning one anothers' putative ancestries ... while Tusker blew loud, popping champagne bubbles, and Whiskers purred a bass accompaniment.

Message: Settling in for a fine time
Author: - Inaras Ubaratutu
Date: Dec 17, 2000 10:49

I watched as the new fellow wandered in, a chap named Brutus, who joined us in an ale, talking something about barbering a Roman. Frankly, I had a few other ideas for Romans, but maybe he did as well, since he seemed to be pleased about the occurrence.

Whiskers was definitely in fine fettle -- and while my face felt as though it had been sandblasted, it also felt good. Peaking around the joint, I discovered an old baby portrait of Whiskers, and pointed it out.

"Awwww," I said. "I bet she never realized she was so cute once!"

And the six of us settled back into our various beverages.