Beverage recap (all that matters to Franky)
Genesee cream ale, classic example BJCP cat 6A light hybrid
Bolstered with a shot of still-warmed-by-fire wild turkey, straw pale with effervescent carbonation, slight DMS, good vehicle for bourbon
BackInBlack IPA, cascadian dark ale BJCP cat 23A
Clone recipe from 21st amendment, dark, smooth late hop flavor, would benefit from more dry hop, effective to treat sleep disorders when imbibed in large doses
Shaw's Jar o' shine
Botanicals- likely none
Would have functioned better to treat scrapes or cuts, sippable only to the scoundrels of the world.
o Guardatevi intorno stanza.
o L'odore del Campfire aria. Perché è, oh che è di destra. Sei stato al forno e costruito che leavesman nel fuoco. OK.
• Andare al piano di sotto. Questi sono gli stessi altri, sì? Sì.
o trovare tazza, tracanna, cipiglio – il caffè è andato stantio. Perché il caffè stantio? E 'stato appena tostato la settimana scorsa? Qualunque cosa.
• Vai a garage.
o Controllare camera di fermentazione, Krausen è caduta sulla migliore amaro e il hellesbier?
o meglio del campione. Sterilizzare ladro vino, tuffo, il gusto. La bontà, questi sono entrambi maturi.
o Controllare la gravità, FG 1.011 e 1.012, il lievito è sicuramente fatto il lavoro. Come funziona questo continuano a succedere?
o li Get in caratelli e non fanno domande. Non fare domande. Non dire di più di quanto si deve.
§ Ha sempre detto, non dire di più di quanto si deve. Non dire di più. Non in scoperta, deposizioni o camere da letto. Mai nelle camere da letto. Dove è stata? Mi sento come parlato con lei ieri? Lei non può vedere me come questo, Bizzaria che sono adesso. Lei è mancato, è giovane e vitale.
• Poke il rudeman, è forte di notte e stordito nelle mattine. Non il peggiore ordine delle operazioni, suppongo.
o Raccogliere gli ospiti.
o guidare la macchina per la cena.
o Trova Joey. Egli è ducking una cameriera. Una cameriera che non fa buon caffè o. Perché non c'è un buon caffè in questo continente?
• Approccio un palazzo, questo è l'edificio di La donna Valerianna? !!
o nascondere dietro grossa Monstro jeepman. È INUTILE. Lei sa che sono lì.
o Spit alcune parole. Imbarazzo. Lei parla freneticamente su italia, non ascolto. Mi manca la sua giovinezza, la sua natura e hotblooded sempre la pelle fresca.
• Parlare con Barto.
o andare al bar di Larry.
§ Fantasma! Hit con purè paddle- nulla.
§ Trova whisky, luce sul fuoco, non importa. Flip si erge su di esso in trionfo. Parla roba jeep.
§ Non lasciate che il whisky vada sprecato
• Vai a appartamento
o Trova chiaro di luna
• Vai a … Arena?
o Ascoltate le stagionali.
o deriva fuori in pensieri, finitura chiaro di luna. che dire di un blu mais crema ale? Aggiungere i mirtilli troppo? No, troppo lontano Franky.
• Dormire. Che la vita è più così?
o Look around room.
o Smell the air- Campfire. Why is it, oh that’s right. You got baked and built that leavesman into a fire. OK.
· Go downstairs. These are the same others, yes? Yes.
o Pour, slurp, wince- the coffee has gone stale. Why is the coffee stale? It was just roasted last week? Whatever.
· Go to garage.
o Check fermentation chamber, krausen has fallen on the best bitter and the hellesbier?
o Better sample. Sanitize wine theif, dip, taste. Goodness, these are both mature.
o Check gravity, FG 1.011 and 1.012, the yeast is surely done the work. How does this keep happening?
o Get them in kegs and don’t ask questions. Don’t ask questions. Don’t say more than you have to.
§ She always said, don’t say more than you have to. Don’t say more. Not in discovery, depositions or bedrooms. Never in bedrooms. Where has she been? I feel like talked to her yesterday? She cannot see me like this, Bizzaria that I am now. She is missed, she is young and vital.
· Poke the rudeman, he is loud at night and dazed in mornings. Not the worst order of operations, I suppose.
o Gather the guests.
o Drive the car to the diner.
o Find Joey. He is ducking a waitress. A waitress that doesn’t make good coffee either. Why is there no good coffee on this continent?
· Approach a buildi, this is la donna Valerianna’s building?!!
o Hide behind grossa monstro jeepman. It is no use. She knows I am there.
o Spit out some words. Embarrassment. She talks frantically about italia, I am not listening. I miss her youth, her hotblooded nature and always cool skin.
· Talk to barto.
o Go to Larry’s bar.
§ Fantasma! Hit with mash paddle- nothing.
§ Find whiskey, light on fire, doesn’t matter. Flip stands over it in triumph. He talks jeep stuff.
§ Don’t let that whiskey go to waste
· Go to apartment
o Find moonshine
· Go to…arena?
o Listen to the seasonals.
o Drift off in own thoughts, finish moonshine. what about a blue maize cream ale? Add blueberries too? No, too far franky.
· Sleep. What life is this anymore?
Shaw(n) stopped the car in front of one of those old spooky Victorian houses that looked like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon. Alexei groaned as he recognized the building, then quietly resolved himself to be as unhelpful as possible.
This resulted in Shaw(n) literally picking up and dragging him to the door of Haunted Scooby Doo Mansion and pounding on it hard enough to rattle the frame.
Alexei cringed as he heard the banshee shriek of his handler echo through the halls in response to Shaw(n)’s assault on the front door. A moment later, she stood before them in the doorway, looking every inch the lovely career woman in designer clothes. Alexei knew better.
Meeting Valerie was never a pleasurable experience. Alexei opened his mouth to let slip the first foray of insults, as Val gaped in surprise, but Shaw(n) interrupted before he could speak.
“Where’s Nelson?” the overgrown werewolf demanded. What followed was a confused exchange of threats disguised as negotiation that gradually revealed that Alexei was to be returned to Val’s coterie in exchange for Nelson, but Nelson was not actually with Val, nor did she even know where he was. This didn’t stop Val from demanding, quite venomously, that Alexei be returned anyway.
Alexei mused that it was probably a bad idea to provoke Val; she was the kind of lady who cracked open people’s skulls with her bare hands when she got angry. However, with Shaw(n) seemingly in control of the situation, he decided to risk it, and replied that he didn’t really feel like comin home, and that Val’s outfit made her look especially skanky today. She didn’t like that.
Shaw declared he was leaving. With Alexei. She didn’t like that either.
As Alexei listened to her rage impotently in the background, the discomfort of being carried back to the car by his collar didn’t really bother him anymore.
The crew made their way back to Sleepy Hollow Lake to pay a visit to Gnome Chomsky, the little old Yoda of a man who had helped the 3 other assholes when they first popped out of the woods. He had a visitor, a red-headed LARPer with an actual claymore on his back. He looked surprised to see them, then left, probably to go fight a goblin army or something. Whatever. It was hardly the weirdest thing Alexei had seen tonight.
Gnome Chomsky explained that there was to be a meeting of the “Courts” tomorrow night and that the other 3 assholes would finally meet their “King.” So they were LARPers. Neat.
Shaw(n) went off again to do werewolf shit, leaving Alexei with a key to his place to crash for the night. Alexei returned the favor by going upstairs to take whatever cash he found laying around. One of the rooms upstairs was hardly used. Judging by the Calculus textbooks and the button-downs in the closet, it wasn’t Shaw(n)’s. Alexei helped himself to a fashionable blazer. After all, he’d need to look his best to meet a King.
He made his way to the basement, hanging the blazer on some of the exposed piping. The basement was bare and covered in scorch marks; apparently this house had been on fire before. The thought made Alexei shudder involuntarily. He threw his fur coat upon the floor, gently folded and laid his aviators next to it, then fell face-first into torpor.
Alexei woke up next to a pool of bloody vomit, the taste of stale beer and other fluids still fresh in his mouth. Frankie stood over him, wide-eyed and panicked, a hand still on Alexei’s neck where he had been trying to check for a pulse. Oh, right, Alexei thought, should probably start breathing again.
Wiping his mouth as Frankie stammered, Alexei headed upstairs to see Joey and Larry. Joey was also panicked, and was wearing a pair of Wonderbread bags around his shoes, hurriedly trying to wipe down everything in the kitchen with a rag soaked in moonshine. Alexei didn’t even ask.
Instead, he wandered outside into the night. Several minutes later he came back inside and spat a dead rabbit into the trash can. “Alright, I’m good,” he said to the confused gaggle of assholes. “Let’s go.”
The meeting took place in an old abandoned boxing gym, far removed from prying eyes. The inside was split into 4 sections of bleachers, one against each wall, and the old boxing ring in the center, serving as a makeshift stage. Gnome Chomski was there, and he waved everyone over to his side, the “Autumn Court.” Alexei had expected more people in robes and chainmail, but was pleasantly surprised to see a group of ladies on the bleachers across from him who looked less Dungeons and Dragons and more Victoria’s Secret. They smelled good too. He bummed a cigarette off of some Van Helsing-looking motherfucker.
Despite the distance between them, he could still hear Gnome Chomski drone on about the different courts, their roles, beliefs, and powers. None of it was as interesting as the beautiful woman before him, who Gnome had referred to as “Gilded Lily.” She was surrounded by a flock of like-minded and equally intriguing girls who looked like they knew how to have a good time. Alexei’s kind of people. He unbuttoned his blazer and moved in for the hunt.
Ten minutes later, he had Lily’s number on his arm, and a whole new market of “clients.”
One minute, I'm spelunking thru a cave system, the next minute I'm running for my life thru that same cave system. I must have fallen and hit my head. While I was out I had these weird dreams about living in a gladiator arena and being operated on my some psychopathic doctor. What a messed up dream… Wait, why am I running, and why is Heat Miser motioning me to the exit of the cave with William Wallace's sword. Heat Miser says his real name is Ryan and that I was in Hell. He gives me a lift back to this old timers place named Bart. Clearly, I haven't woken up yet.
I spend several hours in a waiting room before I'm introduced to a bunch of degenerates. They kinda look like real people, but kinda also not so much. Wait – is that one guy Brad Pitt from Fight Club or is it Leonardo Di Cap—-oh wait, this is one of those Inception dreams. Ok, I'll play along.
We are told that we need to go to a boxing club? Wait, maybe this the Fight Club dream. Sadly, it turned out to be a boring community meeting – more on that later.
So we had to go do this chore first. We go to this dude's bar and there is this copy of him there, it's like a xerox person. Crazy, I know, but that Bart guy said there was a Xerox Flip out there too. He tries to run out the back and everyone runs after him. I'm not sure what came over me, but I went full on hulk smash on this guy.
Ok, back to the community meeting. There are all these suspect folk jockeying to be king of the hill. Boring smack talk, then promise of cup cakes, followed by failure to come thru on said cup cakes. Why am I always hungry?
One last thing, this crazy old Italian guy let me crash at his place, guess he's not so bad. He seems way overly preoccupied with finding his next drink, but it does help his English so I'll let that slide.
A poem by Joey:
When did the madness start?
Has it been here all along?
Have monsters been hiding within my skull?
clawing, hissing, scratching to get out
It's 4am and I'm standing in front
of a house and a woman,
And the terror takes hold
Flight! Run and run again and again and again and
These strangers, others, friends of circumstance,
freaks and demons
Where do they lie?
Inside or out? Truth or lie?
We make arrangements,
Breakfast at the diner,
As if any of this is real.
Sanity returns or so it seems
There is nothing more real than a beige Buick
Slumber and the familiar mid-day morning
Ambrosia, the usual
But freaks and demons there are
Planning their way through craziness
by going to a bar
Just like real people
It's like a movie set
It runs, exhilaration!
Chase! Kill! Live!
Christ, I've lost my mind
Did I leave it in the bar?
Run! Flee! Hide!
Fragments of my mind defeat
scraps of imagination
and celebrate with shots
"we must go to the ball, we must"
hence we set out to rouse Alexei
I won't be taken again
Commence the purification ritual
Bags of Wonder and bottles of bleach
Which one's Jesus?
I can feel the rambling,
remnants of mind
Another building at night,
and we are playing hearts with a mismatched
deck of players
in suits of seasons
playing political tricks
calling out the hounds of war
There is something growing within me
Something beautiful and terrifying
The fall from summer
Bounty and then death.
I will not be taken
They will fear m