Excathedra plugged yet another quarter into the Nostalgia Juke Box at the newly refurbished GreaseSpot Cafe, certain that Sudo had included her favorite seventies pop rock hits that she never seemed to tire of. Soon Frank Sinatra's melancholic baritone thundered out of the speakers.
Isn't it rich? Are we a pair -
Me here at last on the ground, you in midair?
Send in the clowns.
Isn't it bliss? Don't you approve -
One who keeps tearing around, one who can't move?
Where are the clowns? Send in the clowns.
To me, he'll always be a star, excathedra thought, swooning as she listened dreamily to the first verse then returned to her empty booth to finish decorating. She caressed the candy flower before delicately placing it next to the candles on the daintily designed Corbis cake. She gazed forlornly at her creation -- her balloons artfully positioned, the party hats for two, the carefully selected gift she chose especially for him, tastefully gift wrapped by a WalMart employee that very afternoon.
Just when I'd stopped opening doors
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours.
Making my entrance again with my usual flair.
Sure of my lines. No one is there.
Maybe he hasn't found us yet in our new digs, excathedra mused. Surely he hasn't forgotten us, she thought as she sighed deeply, fixing her eyes on the front entrance, willing that familiar shape to come bounding into the diner, knowing she had little time left to devise a plan that would assure his return. He must come today, she thought, folding her fingers together in prayer.
Don't you love farce? My fault, I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns? Send in the clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.
Excathedra turned her gaze to the other familiar diners. Shazdancer and Plotinus leaned cozily in the corner booth, their whispers broken up by occasional laughter as Plotinus demonstrated the finer points of exposition. My3cents and Ryebred soon ambled over to join them, careful not to interrupt Tom Heller's worshipful monologue.
Isn't it rich? Isn't it queer -
Losing my timing this late in my career?
Where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.
No, excathedra thought. Next year will be too late. Almost a year had already passed since she watched his sad, crinkled form retreating in defeat after receiving yet another scathing review of his underappreciated (though stylish) prose. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, an idea began to form and take root in her heart. She knew (was it revelation?) what she must do to win him back. Yes, she thought. That's it. I'll write him a story. About us. And where we came from. And how we got here.
With the lyrics from the juke box fading in the background, excathedra pulled a notebook from her purse, and began penning their mutual biography. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . " she began.
[This message was edited by laleo on July 12, 2002 at 15:12.]
[This message was edited by laleo on July 12, 2002 at 16:06.]
As Excathedra worked feverishly on the bi-biography, the rest of the partiers--who were hiding under various tables around the room, poised to spring like panthers at the unsuspecting birthday boy the moment he entered--started to grouse.
"Where is he?" queried Litwin with a groan, trying desperately to pull his left hand out from under the lethal heel of one of Ryebred's stylish red stilettos.
Ryebred, daintily lifting her foot to free her old friend's paw, in the process lifted the table they were crouched under, sending the absent guest of honor's birthday cake flying ... flying ... flying ... flying....flying....flying....right through a nearby open window.
Plotinus, ready for a break anyway, hastily leapt to his feet and looked out the window to see where the cake had landed. "Maybe there's a stupid-human-tricks spot on Letterman in this for us," he mused, expecting to see the frothily frosted cake kersplaaaaat on the sidewalk or on someone's head or on top of a passing car.
"That's funny," Plotty said, turning away from the window. "The cake is gone. Not even a smudge of frosting marks the sidewalk below."
Suzie, crawling out from beneath her coffee table hideout, whispered (stickily), "In case anyone cares, the ice cream has melted."
Linda Z sighed heavily, half-inflating her party noisemaker, and started to cry.
"Oh drats," muttered laleo. "This birthday party appears to be a bust. We so wanted to surprise Chuck on his big day. But we have no Chuck," she sniffled.
Just then the group of well wishers heard a loud, rustling noise outside the door. All eyes flew toward the source of the commotion. The door burst open with a clatter, and in flew Chuck's Duck, puffing on his little stub of a cigar for all he was worth, cussing like a sailor after a downing a gallon jug of cheap wine and wiggling his ducky *** in an attempt to untangle the huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHUCK!color=red> banner tied to his tailfeathers.
"Sheesh, couldn't you people afford a damned airplane to pull this @#%-in' thing?" grumped the duck, sputtering. "It wasn't enough that I had to fly under Homeland Security Radar, which ain't easy for a duck of my um, er, uh prosperous physique. Oh nooooo. I also had to pull THIS thing. It weighs a freekin' TON! Where's my martini? where's the bathroom? Do you know what air traffic is like around here at this time of day? Where's Chuck? Why I oughta...."
"Calm down, Ducky," whispered Ryebred soothingly, playfully showing Chuck's Duck a little well-turned ankle and batting her eyelashes at him.
Chuck's Duck melted into the puddle of ice cream and sighed himself into infatuated bliss beside Suzie. Nothing better to do, they entertained themselves by smearing the gooey melted ice cream onto each other's faces and giggling.
Plotinus took another look out the window, just to make sure his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him.
"Hey, everyone! He's here!" exclaimed Plotinus, scrambling to duck under the pool table.
Laleo quickly flicked off the lights and shooshed Suzie and the Duck sternly.
...carrying a bowling ball with a birthday cake on the top of it, fully intact, and followed by Satori who was is a state of bliss and couldn't quite fit his vocabulary through the door.
"Hi everyone," says Chuck, "I'm sorry I'm late. Satori and I were bowling, and he was in the zone, bowling continuous 300 games and solving many a koan. It's a magical night. Just as I arrived this birthday cake came from nowhere and landed on my bowling ball."
Litwin, breaking himself free from his worshipful monologue, exclaimed, "There it is! Proof! Incontrovertible, irrefutable. Chuck came here without a birthday cake and one fell from the heavens. It's a bonafide miracle!"
geo, veins bulging, screamed almost incoherently, "DAMNIT MAN! Ryebred, her foot, your hand, you silly blatherer, the table, the birthday cake flying ... flying ... flying ... flying....flying....flying....the open window."
Litwin replied ly, "Whether the window flew or not, I don't know, but this I know, that whereas Chuck was cakeless, now that cake doth stand before you whole."
ExCathedra was hurt. It was, after all, a party. "Why can't we all just agree on something tonight?"
Everyone chanted together, "I follow the middle road."
"No," Litwin & geo intoned in unison, "what the middle road is means something different to everyone. It is not really agreement!" Then they both stopped and looked at one another. Had they both actually agreed on something?
But then Litwin broke the stillness, "I don't know about you, geo, but where I come from..." "YES!" ExCathedra exulted, "the book! Where do you come from Litwin?"
Litwin hesitated, then, "Wow, where do I come from? Heavy! I know I ate a strawberry once, and it sent me on a horizontal elevator rocket ride through a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a bright light. I knew that if I travelled past the light it would take me to a previous life. BUT, I punked out, and said that I had enough, and the elevator stopped at a party that I had when I was three. We all had cardboard fireman hats on covered in red cellophane."
"But where do I come from? Why, that's simple. I think; therefore, God is. And that's where I came from."
But Litwin looked around and no one was listening. It was as if he was invisible, just a voice without audience - the voice of one crying in the diner.
ExCathedra swooned at Chuck's precense. Ryebread had broken out of the hypnotizing character of of Litwin's siloquey as it resonated with Satori's satisfied, "Na na na na na na na na na wa wa wa wa wa wa at the sound of the word "party," and gone over to where Chucky was and breathed on him, "Surprise, Chucky."
The lights came on, and everyone started to sing, "Happy birthday...
followed by "we're so glad that you were born 'cause if you were not here...." but excathedra exclaimed, "oh please please no wayword songs, no doctrine, this is a PARTY! let's cut the cake!!! (more spots were entering the cafe, they had heard about free cake) ohmygosh we have here but one cake and one bowling ball."
tom litwin said, "bring them to me." and he commanded the greasespot party animals and the duck to sit down in the booths (the duck and linzee spun 'round and 'round on counter stools). he took the birthday cake and bowling ball, looked up to heaven and blessed and cut the cake and gave huge pieces to chuck and all his friends and bowling balls to the duck, satori, laleo and george who all grinned with sheer delight and started quacking and yacking about the time they would have bowling.
and they did eat and play with bowling balls and then took up fragments, 12 dumpsters full and...
Linzee stopped twirling and hopped off her stool. Still a little dizzy from her spin, she looked at excathedra and blinked. "I could have sworn she had bowling ball fragments in her hair." Linzee beckoned to the duck and the two of them, as stealthily as two masterminds behind a grand conspiracy (easily rivaling one of the plots Ron G had warned everyone about), tiptoed quietly over and peered into the dumpster.
Tom Litwin exclaimed, "Excathedra, when I said 'DUCK!' I meant 'DUCK!'not 'HEY, LOOK AT THAT DUCK!' He gallantly gave her his hand and pulled her out of the mess.
As Chuck's Duck and linzee busied themselves with picking bowling-ball shards from Excathedra's hair, laleo shoved all the cafe tables to one end of the room, put $5 in the jukebox and started dancing, beckoning everyone to join her.
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shazdancer
Whoa, is it your birthday again already? Hope it is da greatest!
God bless, you're the br...oops!
Dancingly,
shaz
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laleo
Excathedra plugged yet another quarter into the Nostalgia Juke Box at the newly refurbished GreaseSpot Cafe, certain that Sudo had included her favorite seventies pop rock hits that she never seemed to tire of. Soon Frank Sinatra's melancholic baritone thundered out of the speakers.
Isn't it rich? Are we a pair -
Me here at last on the ground, you in midair?
Send in the clowns.
Isn't it bliss? Don't you approve -
One who keeps tearing around, one who can't move?
Where are the clowns? Send in the clowns.
To me, he'll always be a star, excathedra thought, swooning as she listened dreamily to the first verse then returned to her empty booth to finish decorating. She caressed the candy flower before delicately placing it next to the candles on the daintily designed Corbis cake. She gazed forlornly at her creation -- her balloons artfully positioned, the party hats for two, the carefully selected gift she chose especially for him, tastefully gift wrapped by a WalMart employee that very afternoon.
Just when I'd stopped opening doors
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours.
Making my entrance again with my usual flair.
Sure of my lines. No one is there.
Maybe he hasn't found us yet in our new digs, excathedra mused. Surely he hasn't forgotten us, she thought as she sighed deeply, fixing her eyes on the front entrance, willing that familiar shape to come bounding into the diner, knowing she had little time left to devise a plan that would assure his return. He must come today, she thought, folding her fingers together in prayer.
Don't you love farce? My fault, I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns? Send in the clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.
Excathedra turned her gaze to the other familiar diners. Shazdancer and Plotinus leaned cozily in the corner booth, their whispers broken up by occasional laughter as Plotinus demonstrated the finer points of exposition. My3cents and Ryebred soon ambled over to join them, careful not to interrupt Tom Heller's worshipful monologue.
Isn't it rich? Isn't it queer -
Losing my timing this late in my career?
Where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.
No, excathedra thought. Next year will be too late. Almost a year had already passed since she watched his sad, crinkled form retreating in defeat after receiving yet another scathing review of his underappreciated (though stylish) prose. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, an idea began to form and take root in her heart. She knew (was it revelation?) what she must do to win him back. Yes, she thought. That's it. I'll write him a story. About us. And where we came from. And how we got here.
With the lyrics from the juke box fading in the background, excathedra pulled a notebook from her purse, and began penning their mutual biography. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . " she began.
[This message was edited by laleo on July 12, 2002 at 15:12.]
[This message was edited by laleo on July 12, 2002 at 16:06.]
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Linda Z
As Excathedra worked feverishly on the bi-biography, the rest of the partiers--who were hiding under various tables around the room, poised to spring like panthers at the unsuspecting birthday boy the moment he entered--started to grouse.
"Where is he?" queried Litwin with a groan, trying desperately to pull his left hand out from under the lethal heel of one of Ryebred's stylish red stilettos.
Ryebred, daintily lifting her foot to free her old friend's paw, in the process lifted the table they were crouched under, sending the absent guest of honor's birthday cake flying ... flying ... flying ... flying....flying....flying....right through a nearby open window.
Plotinus, ready for a break anyway, hastily leapt to his feet and looked out the window to see where the cake had landed. "Maybe there's a stupid-human-tricks spot on Letterman in this for us," he mused, expecting to see the frothily frosted cake kersplaaaaat on the sidewalk or on someone's head or on top of a passing car.
"That's funny," Plotty said, turning away from the window. "The cake is gone. Not even a smudge of frosting marks the sidewalk below."
Suzie, crawling out from beneath her coffee table hideout, whispered (stickily), "In case anyone cares, the ice cream has melted."
Linda Z sighed heavily, half-inflating her party noisemaker, and started to cry.
"Oh drats," muttered laleo. "This birthday party appears to be a bust. We so wanted to surprise Chuck on his big day. But we have no Chuck," she sniffled.
Just then the group of well wishers heard a loud, rustling noise outside the door. All eyes flew toward the source of the commotion. The door burst open with a clatter, and in flew Chuck's Duck, puffing on his little stub of a cigar for all he was worth, cussing like a sailor after a downing a gallon jug of cheap wine and wiggling his ducky *** in an attempt to untangle the huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHUCK!color=red> banner tied to his tailfeathers.
"Sheesh, couldn't you people afford a damned airplane to pull this @#%-in' thing?" grumped the duck, sputtering. "It wasn't enough that I had to fly under Homeland Security Radar, which ain't easy for a duck of my um, er, uh prosperous physique. Oh nooooo. I also had to pull THIS thing. It weighs a freekin' TON! Where's my martini? where's the bathroom? Do you know what air traffic is like around here at this time of day? Where's Chuck? Why I oughta...."
"Calm down, Ducky," whispered Ryebred soothingly, playfully showing Chuck's Duck a little well-turned ankle and batting her eyelashes at him.
Chuck's Duck melted into the puddle of ice cream and sighed himself into infatuated bliss beside Suzie. Nothing better to do, they entertained themselves by smearing the gooey melted ice cream onto each other's faces and giggling.
Plotinus took another look out the window, just to make sure his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him.
"Hey, everyone! He's here!" exclaimed Plotinus, scrambling to duck under the pool table.
Laleo quickly flicked off the lights and shooshed Suzie and the Duck sternly.
In walked the Man of the Hour, carrying...
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Tom
...carrying a bowling ball with a birthday cake on the top of it, fully intact, and followed by Satori who was is a state of bliss and couldn't quite fit his vocabulary through the door.
"Hi everyone," says Chuck, "I'm sorry I'm late. Satori and I were bowling, and he was in the zone, bowling continuous 300 games and solving many a koan. It's a magical night. Just as I arrived this birthday cake came from nowhere and landed on my bowling ball."
Litwin, breaking himself free from his worshipful monologue, exclaimed, "There it is! Proof! Incontrovertible, irrefutable. Chuck came here without a birthday cake and one fell from the heavens. It's a bonafide miracle!"
geo, veins bulging, screamed almost incoherently, "DAMNIT MAN! Ryebred, her foot, your hand, you silly blatherer, the table, the birthday cake flying ... flying ... flying ... flying....flying....flying....the open window."
Litwin replied ly, "Whether the window flew or not, I don't know, but this I know, that whereas Chuck was cakeless, now that cake doth stand before you whole."
ExCathedra was hurt. It was, after all, a party. "Why can't we all just agree on something tonight?"
Everyone chanted together, "I follow the middle road."
"No," Litwin & geo intoned in unison, "what the middle road is means something different to everyone. It is not really agreement!" Then they both stopped and looked at one another. Had they both actually agreed on something?
But then Litwin broke the stillness, "I don't know about you, geo, but where I come from..." "YES!" ExCathedra exulted, "the book! Where do you come from Litwin?"
Litwin hesitated, then, "Wow, where do I come from? Heavy! I know I ate a strawberry once, and it sent me on a horizontal elevator rocket ride through a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a bright light. I knew that if I travelled past the light it would take me to a previous life. BUT, I punked out, and said that I had enough, and the elevator stopped at a party that I had when I was three. We all had cardboard fireman hats on covered in red cellophane."
"But where do I come from? Why, that's simple. I think; therefore, God is. And that's where I came from."
But Litwin looked around and no one was listening. It was as if he was invisible, just a voice without audience - the voice of one crying in the diner.
ExCathedra swooned at Chuck's precense. Ryebread had broken out of the hypnotizing character of of Litwin's siloquey as it resonated with Satori's satisfied, "Na na na na na na na na na wa wa wa wa wa wa at the sound of the word "party," and gone over to where Chucky was and breathed on him, "Surprise, Chucky."
The lights came on, and everyone started to sing, "Happy birthday...
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excathedra
followed by "we're so glad that you were born 'cause if you were not here...." but excathedra exclaimed, "oh please please no wayword songs, no doctrine, this is a PARTY! let's cut the cake!!! (more spots were entering the cafe, they had heard about free cake) ohmygosh we have here but one cake and one bowling ball."
tom litwin said, "bring them to me." and he commanded the greasespot party animals and the duck to sit down in the booths (the duck and linzee spun 'round and 'round on counter stools). he took the birthday cake and bowling ball, looked up to heaven and blessed and cut the cake and gave huge pieces to chuck and all his friends and bowling balls to the duck, satori, laleo and george who all grinned with sheer delight and started quacking and yacking about the time they would have bowling.
and they did eat and play with bowling balls and then took up fragments, 12 dumpsters full and...
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excathedra
plopped them on excathedra's head...
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Linda Z
Linzee stopped twirling and hopped off her stool. Still a little dizzy from her spin, she looked at excathedra and blinked. "I could have sworn she had bowling ball fragments in her hair." Linzee beckoned to the duck and the two of them, as stealthily as two masterminds behind a grand conspiracy (easily rivaling one of the plots Ron G had warned everyone about), tiptoed quietly over and peered into the dumpster.
Tom Litwin exclaimed, "Excathedra, when I said 'DUCK!' I meant 'DUCK!'not 'HEY, LOOK AT THAT DUCK!' He gallantly gave her his hand and pulled her out of the mess.
As Chuck's Duck and linzee busied themselves with picking bowling-ball shards from Excathedra's hair, laleo shoved all the cafe tables to one end of the room, put $5 in the jukebox and started dancing, beckoning everyone to join her.
The cafe was alive with the sound of...
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