**A minor update just in case you’re not familiar with the concept, only those signed up for the Soap are actually in the story.
"Previously on Wolfden Bar and Grill…"
After tirelessly salting away the proceeds of her artworks for years, Wolfbaby had finally been able to realise her long held dream of combining the two most important things in her life (beer and blogging) by buying a Bar and Grill and installing high speed internet connections for the blogging community. Things started out well, and in its heyday, you were likely to see as many as thirty or forty bloggers sitting in the book section feverishly sending IMs to each other. But things soon began to unravel, with several unexplained pregnancies and some mysterious disappearances, not to mention some pretty weird characters with laptops in search of a lapdance.
Now, six months later things seemed like they could spiral out of control at any minute, one half of the bloggers had disappeared, one half were pregnant, and the other half (what? oh nevermind) were devastated that their unexplained pregnancies had mysteriously disappeared. To say the situation had become dire was, well, another way of saying things didn’t look so good. And now for Episode 4….
Wolfbaby was listlessly pushing dirt around the top of a bar that had seen cleaner days with a rag that had seen even cleaner days. She looked defeated, like someone who put a dollar in a vending machine and got a roll of Certs instead of the Hershey bar they were really after, even though they were sure they pushed the right buttons.
"What’s wrong Wolfie? Are you worried about all the disappearances?" inquired Susan, putting aside her roti panas for a moment.
Shooting her a withering glance that would have peeled the paint off a wall, Wolfbaby pleasantly replied, "What, are you stupid or something? This is a goddamn Soap you moron! People go missing all the time dammit, that’s for the fucking writers to worry about." This was a Wolfbaby few had seen, so there must be something seriously wrong, or maybe her Tourette’s was just playing up again.
"What is it then Wolfie?" asked Moof, for no other reason than to get into the story.
"I may lose the Wolfden in a hostile takeover."
"Who to?" chimed Heather, in an attempt to prove that she was real good with words.
With a venom that fell just short of curdling the milk in a jug on the bar, Wolfbaby retorted "Medicos sans Folicled Derrieres."
"Why would a group of humanitarian Doctors want to own a bar?" asked Fallen Angels, showing a better grip on sentence structure than Heather, but also an embarrassing lack of general knowledge.
"That’s Medicines sans Frontieres you fuckwitt (ok, that one was warranted), this is a group of people from the local hospital with a shared interest both in emergency procedures and butt waxing. That’s them over there." Wolfbaby pointed to a table where a conspiratorial huddle was in progress.
Seated at the table, deep in conversation, were Dr Rob, Dr A, Patient Anonymous, Difficult Patient, Qualicum RN and her conjoined twin Smalltown RN (that’ll teach her to call me a girl). This band of nogoodnicks, had formed a consortium to wrest control of the bar from Wolfbaby so that they could install an Emergency Room and Beauty Salon in the rooms out the back that had previously been used for evil experiments, but were now lying idle, since most of the evil geniuses had gone missing or were pregnant. While their true purpose was still unclear, it seemed that the most likely motivation was that they were all tired of having to walk the two blocks between the bar and the hospital to get a drink, and the hospital still refused to sell liquor in the operating theaters.
"So that’s it then" said Dr A, "we’re all agreed that when we gain control of the bar, we change the name to BloggERs, Booze and Brazilians."
While these machinations had been taking place, Pamela and Karmyn had entered the Bar and were now in heated conversation with JIP, Mysti and Jungle Tart at a corner table, Pamela always sat in the corner because she had a square arse. All of them except JIP were worried about their unexplained pregnancies, and were trying to get to the bottom of the mystery, (actually Jungle Tart was just trying to get to Mysti’s bottom, but that’s for another time).
"I can’t believe, the only link between the pregnancies is that we all got emails from Willowtree" said Pamela incredulously.
But it was true, for unbeknown to this group of knocked up novelists, Willowtree had long been fascinated by the concept of conception via electronic communications. His interest went back years, in fact, to the time in elementary school when he completely misunderstood Sister Blister’s warnings that digital stimulation could lead to unwanted pregnancy. Ever since then he’d been determined to discover how to convert sperm into it’s binary code for transmission over the web instead of over his pyjamas. It now appears he has discovered the secret to the secretions. For years, what had merely been a hobby suddenly became an obsession when Smalltown RN performed an accidental gender reassignment on him in the last episode. Ironically, after spending millions of dollars on scientific equipment, he discovered quite by accident that all it required was a Playboy magazine, a Ziploc bag, a secondhand flatbed scanner and a cheap computer (and you don’t even need the ziploc bags if you have one of the newer, self cleaning scanners).
Karmyn, who had been idly drawing circles on the floor with her big toe during the background narrative of Willowtree’s diabolical plan, looked up and moaned plaintively "I don’t like this, I don’t like this one bit. What with me being an alcoholic drug addict with bipolar disorder, just out on bail for multiple homicides an’ all, I’m not really sure that this is the right time for me to be having a baby."
"Stop your whining!" Pamela shot back compassionately, "You’re always complaining about your petty issues, what about me? I’m expecting octuplets!"
"Well Pam, you have no-one to blame but yourself, I told you to get a reliable sperm filter for your computer," chided JIP who had done just that, in fact she had bought some effective, but very expensive anti-sperm software from, you guessed it, Willowtree (a case of art imitating life you might say), and was therefore still able to wear the jeans she wore in high school.
Suddenly the door burst open and in staggered Laundress clutching a crumpled paper bag oozing a strange colored substance in one hand, and a Big Mac in the other. Pearls and Dreams rushed over to support her. "You’ll never guess what I just found" was all Laundress was able to get out before she went limp and sunk motionless to the floor (how come everyone makes her go limp?).
Will those evil bastards get control of the Wolfden? What will become of all the missing bloggers? How will the pregnancies turn out? What should you drink while you’re having a Brazilian? Did Willowtree even read the first three episodes? Tune in next week when Dr.Rob will answer these questions, or not. Maybe he’ll just do what I did and ask a whole bunch more and leave the mess for someone else to clean up, who knows? You won’t if you don’t come back and read Episode 5 of Wolfden Bar and Grill.
Filed under: Serials |