From: jpalmer@onetouch.COM (John Palmer)
Subject: Liralen's birthday
Organization: MCS/OneTouch, Inc.
Date: Fri, 02 Oct 92 21:18:59 GMT


     John has been seen walking around the bar for most of the day,
occasionally taking small measurements.

     No one seems to know for sure what he's doing; some patrons have bets as
to whether or not HE knows what he is doing.

    After a time, he and Bill exit into the back of the bar, where Mike has
lent them his kitchen for a while.  You hear occasional

     "I don't CARE what I said, do what I MEANT!"

     "John, deep frying works best if you TURN THE DEEP FRYER ON first."

     "You call that a wok? That's not a wok. . . THIS is a wok."

     "What do you MEAN you don't know how these taste?  There you are, dancing
in the aisle in JOY over finding this stuff. . .'
     "John, I think I just said that I heard it was pretty good. . . "
     "Like I said, DANCING IN THE AISLE, practically ENRAPTURED. . . "

     But then, after a time, you start to hear rhythmic cutting noises, and the
sizzle of oil in a pan, and amazing smells start to come from the kitchen.

     "Are you sure this is going to work?"  Bill finally asks.

     "Have you ever known a plan of mine to fail?"  John replies.

     Bill looks even more worried at the utterance of these words.

     Soon they emerge, laden with HUGE quantities of food. . . 

     Potstickers covering a huge platter,
     minced chicken ("did we get it right?"  John asks.  Bill drops a small
piece on a paper plate, which immediately ignites.  "Yep."  he replies.)
     And 800 (or is that 8000) year old fried wontons!

     Plus lo mein, cashew chicken, sesame beef, and, in honor of Christine
Johnson, mu shu pork.

    One large feast later, John brings out desert. . . a fresh blueberry pie,
with birthday candles, of course, and ice cream and frozen yogurt for topping
for those desiring it.  And then, as the meal is FINALLY finished, John gets up
with a solemn, nearly apologetic look on his face.

     "And now, Liralen darlin', I'm afraid. . . it's time."  Time?  Time for
what?  Birthday kisses or spanks?  No. . . John wouldn't look that depressed
over EITHER of those. . . being thrown in the shower?  But Liralen looks at her
clothing, and all of it's able to handle getting wet. . . Oh no. . .

   "I'm afraid so, darlin."  he whispers.  Ripping his chef's suit down the
middle, he's standing there in a black sequined jacket, a pair of blue with
green stripes pants, a yellow shirt, a plaid tie, and a glove.

    "Baby, baby, lemme tell ya. . . I got for ya a poifectamundo birthday gift.
I mean, these guys are HOT!
("They have a fever from the flu" a heckler mumbles.)
These guys are BIG!
("They've been playing gigs for free food.")
They are gonna BLOW YOU AWAY!"
("The volume control on the speakers is stuck on max, again.")

And the deep, booming voice comes from the background. . . 

"They're rude. . . 
    They're crude. . . 
       They have no talent. . . 
          THE SPINAL TAP OF RAP. . . . 

MC RAY AND THE TWO BLU CROO!"
       
     Kent, that guy with the horn (who has not horn, but somehow. . . never
mind.) comes out on a wild solo!  Beat Box Walt starts a rhythm that just might
even have musical potential!  And the spotlight dawns on MC Ray, dressed in
black leather pants, a tight spandex muscle shirt, a backwards baseball cap,
and 2.345 kg of gold chain!

    "Happy birthday . . . to you
     I say happy birthday. . . to you!
     In every single way,
     On this special day,
     Happy Birthday. . . to you!"

    The patrons gasp in horror as they realize that all of the packages John
had been hiding in the spaces he measured were, in fact, speakers. . . they are
hearing MC Ray in total surroundsound.

    "Happy birthday to you, Liralen Li,
     Such a perfect woman as anyone could be.
     You're lotsa different patrons and a Chatsubo Ace,
     And we're really glad to have here at Callahan's Place

    "Happy birthday . . . to you
     I say happy birthday. . . to you!
     In every single way,
     On this special day,
     Happy Birthday. . . to you!"

     The crowd, so thrilled to hear such def music from so many speakers, start
breaking the furniture. . . surely it is only an accident that they are
striking the speakers John hid earlier. . . 

     "We're really glad to have you in our virtual type bar
      glad to know that where you be's exactly where you are. . . 
      Sometimes it's serious, sometimes it's a game. . . 
      But without you here and now the place just wouldn't be the same."

    "Happy birthday . . . to you
     I say happy birthday. . . to you!
     In every single way,
     On this special day,
     Happy Birthday. . . to you!"

     MC Ray, realizing that the crowd has again been wowed to the point of
rioting in their excitement, is thankful that he had the foresight to hire
police protection. . .  the police just barely manage to restrain the mob that
is so frantically reaching for the great star. . . 

     Happy birthday, Liralen.

                                          John

-- 
John Palmer					jpalmer@onetouch.COM
Columbus, OH					...!uunet!onetouch!jpalmer