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Wait, there's a bowling alley here? When was that installed... Wait you didn't install it did you a bowling alley fell out of the multi-verse into the bar... Didn't it.
singers have websites?
what?
Looks up from fixing the wires in the wall.
Nah, we just uncovered one in the back room while renovating. No multiverse shenanigans needed.
Finishes up the wires and begins the process of closing up the wall.
Wait, you were digging through the walls? You didn't happen to find Brocks's secret cave in the air vents did you? I've been searching for it for months now... Or a couple hours I'm not sure.
As far as we can tell, it grew organically. Apparently Nature abhors a vacuum and buildings without a bowling alley.
Keep looking. And if you insist on searching through the air vents, please carry along this duster and let's spritz you with Endust. The vents really need to be cleaned, so two birds one stone, eh?
Stops existing for exactly one second.
Does that mean your aging process paused for one second? Can you go longer? Can you force me out of existence temporarily, say 100 years? My skin isn't growing any younger you know, and it would be nice to wake up 100 years later and still be looking this fabulous.
Can confirm, the mop is Norwegian
Brocklandia, Ratfink, and Doofinshmirtz
Could you do that again?
I have some magical watches I need calibrated.
I pull out a string of watches, made from various materials and in different styles.
Brocklandia, Ratfink, and Alta Sil
The weekend poetry contest has ended. Zany Zanes will choose a winner.
Brocklandia, Zany Zanes, Ratfink, and Alta Sil
-sits on a "Unarmed" "Fake" Nuke-
-bird watches the Bar, and eating a bowl of seeds while it's at it-
Zombie Penguins, Ratfink, and Alta Sil
I’m sure we can find something more size appropriate at the adult store down the street, but to each their own.
La da dee da dee ...
*pours two pounds of freshly harvested black-stripe sunflower seeds, one pound of sorghum, and one pound of red millet into the bowl*
Dum dee dum da doo ...
Ah, the Rip van Winkle Skin Care Routine and Anti-Aging Beauty Regimen™. A traditional folk medicine technique of the indigenous Knickerbocker peoples. Works as a cure for early wrinkling, eczema, liver spots, leopard spots, lion heart, crow's feet, raven's breath, and cat scratch fever.
*takes some millet*
Brocklandia, Consuela de la Morrela, Alta Sil, and Rudolph
what?
Sure, "what" or "whatever."
Thick-Billed Longspur and Shameless shady 14666
How exactly does it work, by eating the skin off whatever body part you apply it? Sounds remarkably like Cheffy's vanilla pudding. Wait!--Is it Cheffy's vanilla pudding?
So, how goes preparing the bar for the coming nuclear apocalypse? I'm sure that the bar could survive a nuclear apocalypse. But I'm sure some of the patrons wouldn't be very happy if their 12-year running game of foosball was knocked off course due to a nuke falling on the foosball table.
If you want I can lob some return nukes at anyone who decides to meddle with your affairs :P
Zany Zanes, Ratfink, and Alta Sil
-enjoys pourings-
Brocklandia, Zany Zanes, and Ratfink
Munching on a slice of cake, a lit candle flickering across the pages of entries, the shadowy judge places the submissions in several different orders, obviously puzzling out their decision. Eventually, tiring of their own indecisiveness, they settle on an order and move to the stage to announce the winners.
Lovely haiku! Great work and thank you for your poem! Congratulations!
I loved the rhyme scheme here and the visual your words painted! Congrats! Let us know if you'll be accepting the position of judge next weekend!
I really love this poem, very worthy of our Third Place trophy! Congrats!
A less optimistic take but I'm charmed nevertheless. Very worthy of Third Place! Congrats!
Nice! A haiku! A lovely homage to our poetry contests roots while creating an interesting thematically connected piece! A great poem worthy of Third Place and the honor bestowed upon the position! Congrats!
Zombie Penguins, Ratfink, and Alta Sil
We seldom notice the rain of nuclear warheads. That's just another Saturday around here, and the Bar rebuilds itself afterward. But feel free to lob warheads at whomever you want--it can be quite cathartic.
Don't worry about the foosball game; we have cameras trained on the table at all times in case the usual amount of destruction around here requires that the game be reset to an earlier play point. But you probably should be worried about the patron to declared "First one to reach fifty million wins!"--I think some of the onlookers are running out of patience.
Wandering back behind the bar the shadows shrug.
We could always use the support. Though we never make it too far in the war, so they'd best build up the defenses around the foosball tables now if anyone hopes to keep them out of the way.
Yay! Thank you, most discerning plurality of shadowy judges! Another cake and a fresh box of candles--which are in no way a bribe, nope, not a bribe at all--will be delivered to your domicile post-haste.
Zombie Penguins, Zany Zanes, Ratfink, Alta Sil, and 1 otherRudolph
«12. . .4,6454,6464,6474,6484,6494,6504,651. . .5,0695,070»
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