Hair of the Wolf: Open for Business
Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2007 6:25 am
The building did not look to impressive. Bit run down, bit scruffy, and a bit on the wrong side of the Space Port. Zeb sighed and looked at the blurb given to him by the fat little realtor that had scuttled away to the safety of his APC, taking off in the direction of the more salubrious side of town.
"Ah well, I guess thats what you get for your money these days." he thought, scratching his head.
There was a loud crash. "Now what...?"
From behind one of the hoardings that blocked the big doorway to the former spare parts shop, the looming figure of WatchWolf clambered out into what passed for daylight in this place. "You should see the space inside. Its huge. We can pack 'em in by the dozen." Wolf's enthusiasm was infectious as always.
"Right then, lets get this place cleaned up and get some paint on the walls. I'll call Bert at the HandyAndy Bot company and get his mechs over here to get it done - shouldn't take more than a couple of hours.." As Zeb picked up the comlink, the Wolf shouted across to him.
"None of that blasted cheap lilac paint, tell him! I want the place to have at least an air of respectability, and we need to get a decent supplier that is at least legit on some of the transactions, we dont need the Customs breathing down our necks....."
Zeb waived at Watchwolf as the comlink crackled and Bert took the call. This place would be jumping come tomorrow and it could do with a name, something catchy.
I went back into the dim-lit room. There was dust everywhere, but that's not what I saw. I saw Our Bar. Yessiree this was it. We'd dreamed this all up in the short walk back to the Star Park and all through that bottle of Europan Brandy. There's nothing like Europan Brandy and Corsican cigars. They were made for each other, we decided. We decided a lot of things that day ,actually, including the best place to crash after an entire bottle of Europan Brandy.
I turned back toward the door and nearly jumped outta my jumpsuit . There was a work-droid standing there just inches from me. "Where'd you come from!?" I yelled. He surveyed me with pale red optics and replied, "I was manufactured on Planet Gammu." I looked at him. A robot with a sense of humor? I'd had enough of that from Annie. "Oh for the..." I began, and I shared with him some of the more colorful expletives from the Outer Worlds. I wound down when I realized he was completely unmoved by my motivational lecture. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes I asked in a hoarse voice, "Are you here to help get this place in ready for business?"
"Afirmative,' he replied and surveyed the room. "It appears we have much to do."
"Oh go soak yer cognitive circuit module..." I mumbled and moved past him toward the doorway. But just as I moved into the light a reflection caught my eye. Turning, I saw it came from a small dirty table in the corner. I weaved my way across the room, making tracks across a floor covered in dust that couldn't have been disturbed for ten years. "What a dump," I whispered to myself, then looked guiltily around to be sure no one heard me, especially Zeb. He'd gotten this place for next to nothing, which was about all we'd had in our life-savings. To us it was everything and we were going to make the best of it.
When I got to the table I found, perfectly in the center, a silver tray. On it was a bottle, two crystal snifters, two cigars and one old-fashioned wooden match. I looked around. I was clearly the only person in the room and the only one who'd been here in some time. Yet the tray looked new. "What the...?" I said aloud and picked up the bottle. In the dim light I could see I was holding the finest, oldest, rarest bottle of Port I had ever laid eyes on let alone held. Under the bottle was a folded paper. Gingerly setting down the bottle I picked it up. It was a note, hand-written. It read:
"Ahoy, Lads. Here's to you and Ol' Zebulon to offer up a toast for Auld Lang Syne. The first glass is for the foundation. The rest is for you two to enjoy with a fine cigar and the dream you share. Cheers men! Shipper"
"Zeb!" I yelled. "ZEB!!
He came running in. "What the bloody hell! You alright? Where are you?"
"Over here, partner. Have a look at this."
"If this is another one of your jokes, mate, I'll..." then he saw what I was holding. "Where the devil did you get that?"
"I was hopin' you could tell me," I said, deadpan.
"I've never seen that before in my life. Where was it?"
"Right here," I pointed "Who'd you tell about this little operation of ours?"
"Not a soul, I swear."
"Well explain this," I said and handed him the note. He read it over, twice.
"Shipper. Aye," he breathed and nodded, like it explained everything. I gotta admit, it pretty much did. Then,"...for the foundation?"
"You got me, boss," I said. We thought for a moment. Then I grinned and said, "Say-y-y-y, I think I know. C'mon." I picked up the tray and we made our way back to the middle of the room. I set it down on a crate. The robot stepped up and said, "Sir I must ask you to vacate the premises. There is much to do."
"Oh blow it out yer ballast bore, buddy!" I snarled. "Disappear." He looked like he was going to say something and thought better of it. He turned and left . Zeb and I were alone.
"The way I look at it, partner," I spoke as I worked the bottle open."This here's the same sorta thing ol' Shipper pulled when he left. I dunno how or why, but this is the right thing for us at the right time." I handed him the two glasses and poured two fingers in each while he held them."If I figure it right, there's more than meets the eye here, my friend." He looked at me and grinned that grin again while he handed me my glass. How did he always know what I was thinking?
I turned to face him and held my glass up. He did the same. In one voice, as if it had been rehearsed, we said, "Cheers!" and slowly poured the contents of our glasses onto the floor.
The dark liquid spread out from under us. Then it kept going, impossibly spreading much farther than what we poured could have. And as the darkness moved out across the room, over the contents and up the walls, everything was transformed. We watched in amazement as the dirty room grew spotless and new. Crates became tables, a fallen beam became a bar, holes in the wall became stained-glass windows, cobwebs became glittering light fixtures. Then we were standing in the middle of a tidy and very inviting pub. There were two wide mirrors behind the bar, and split between then was a deeply carved wooden sign. "Hair of the Wolf" it read and under it were two hat pegs, each with a label over it: Zeb" and "Wolf."
I looked at him. He looked at me. Neither of us could get the foolish smile off our faces. I picked up the bottle, he picked up the cigars, and we sat down at the nearest table. I poured as he snipped the ends off the smokes. He picked up the match, expertly struck it on the heel of his boot, and held it out for me. I puffed mine to life then he did the same.
"Two on a match," I said through the thickening smoke. "Good luck..."
'Aye, that it is, " he agreed. We raised our glasses and the ring of their touch was music. "Cheers!"
Hair of the Wolf is open for business. Let the fun begin.
"Ah well, I guess thats what you get for your money these days." he thought, scratching his head.
There was a loud crash. "Now what...?"
From behind one of the hoardings that blocked the big doorway to the former spare parts shop, the looming figure of WatchWolf clambered out into what passed for daylight in this place. "You should see the space inside. Its huge. We can pack 'em in by the dozen." Wolf's enthusiasm was infectious as always.
"Right then, lets get this place cleaned up and get some paint on the walls. I'll call Bert at the HandyAndy Bot company and get his mechs over here to get it done - shouldn't take more than a couple of hours.." As Zeb picked up the comlink, the Wolf shouted across to him.
"None of that blasted cheap lilac paint, tell him! I want the place to have at least an air of respectability, and we need to get a decent supplier that is at least legit on some of the transactions, we dont need the Customs breathing down our necks....."
Zeb waived at Watchwolf as the comlink crackled and Bert took the call. This place would be jumping come tomorrow and it could do with a name, something catchy.
I went back into the dim-lit room. There was dust everywhere, but that's not what I saw. I saw Our Bar. Yessiree this was it. We'd dreamed this all up in the short walk back to the Star Park and all through that bottle of Europan Brandy. There's nothing like Europan Brandy and Corsican cigars. They were made for each other, we decided. We decided a lot of things that day ,actually, including the best place to crash after an entire bottle of Europan Brandy.
I turned back toward the door and nearly jumped outta my jumpsuit . There was a work-droid standing there just inches from me. "Where'd you come from!?" I yelled. He surveyed me with pale red optics and replied, "I was manufactured on Planet Gammu." I looked at him. A robot with a sense of humor? I'd had enough of that from Annie. "Oh for the..." I began, and I shared with him some of the more colorful expletives from the Outer Worlds. I wound down when I realized he was completely unmoved by my motivational lecture. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes I asked in a hoarse voice, "Are you here to help get this place in ready for business?"
"Afirmative,' he replied and surveyed the room. "It appears we have much to do."
"Oh go soak yer cognitive circuit module..." I mumbled and moved past him toward the doorway. But just as I moved into the light a reflection caught my eye. Turning, I saw it came from a small dirty table in the corner. I weaved my way across the room, making tracks across a floor covered in dust that couldn't have been disturbed for ten years. "What a dump," I whispered to myself, then looked guiltily around to be sure no one heard me, especially Zeb. He'd gotten this place for next to nothing, which was about all we'd had in our life-savings. To us it was everything and we were going to make the best of it.
When I got to the table I found, perfectly in the center, a silver tray. On it was a bottle, two crystal snifters, two cigars and one old-fashioned wooden match. I looked around. I was clearly the only person in the room and the only one who'd been here in some time. Yet the tray looked new. "What the...?" I said aloud and picked up the bottle. In the dim light I could see I was holding the finest, oldest, rarest bottle of Port I had ever laid eyes on let alone held. Under the bottle was a folded paper. Gingerly setting down the bottle I picked it up. It was a note, hand-written. It read:
"Ahoy, Lads. Here's to you and Ol' Zebulon to offer up a toast for Auld Lang Syne. The first glass is for the foundation. The rest is for you two to enjoy with a fine cigar and the dream you share. Cheers men! Shipper"
"Zeb!" I yelled. "ZEB!!
He came running in. "What the bloody hell! You alright? Where are you?"
"Over here, partner. Have a look at this."
"If this is another one of your jokes, mate, I'll..." then he saw what I was holding. "Where the devil did you get that?"
"I was hopin' you could tell me," I said, deadpan.
"I've never seen that before in my life. Where was it?"
"Right here," I pointed "Who'd you tell about this little operation of ours?"
"Not a soul, I swear."
"Well explain this," I said and handed him the note. He read it over, twice.
"Shipper. Aye," he breathed and nodded, like it explained everything. I gotta admit, it pretty much did. Then,"...for the foundation?"
"You got me, boss," I said. We thought for a moment. Then I grinned and said, "Say-y-y-y, I think I know. C'mon." I picked up the tray and we made our way back to the middle of the room. I set it down on a crate. The robot stepped up and said, "Sir I must ask you to vacate the premises. There is much to do."
"Oh blow it out yer ballast bore, buddy!" I snarled. "Disappear." He looked like he was going to say something and thought better of it. He turned and left . Zeb and I were alone.
"The way I look at it, partner," I spoke as I worked the bottle open."This here's the same sorta thing ol' Shipper pulled when he left. I dunno how or why, but this is the right thing for us at the right time." I handed him the two glasses and poured two fingers in each while he held them."If I figure it right, there's more than meets the eye here, my friend." He looked at me and grinned that grin again while he handed me my glass. How did he always know what I was thinking?
I turned to face him and held my glass up. He did the same. In one voice, as if it had been rehearsed, we said, "Cheers!" and slowly poured the contents of our glasses onto the floor.
The dark liquid spread out from under us. Then it kept going, impossibly spreading much farther than what we poured could have. And as the darkness moved out across the room, over the contents and up the walls, everything was transformed. We watched in amazement as the dirty room grew spotless and new. Crates became tables, a fallen beam became a bar, holes in the wall became stained-glass windows, cobwebs became glittering light fixtures. Then we were standing in the middle of a tidy and very inviting pub. There were two wide mirrors behind the bar, and split between then was a deeply carved wooden sign. "Hair of the Wolf" it read and under it were two hat pegs, each with a label over it: Zeb" and "Wolf."
I looked at him. He looked at me. Neither of us could get the foolish smile off our faces. I picked up the bottle, he picked up the cigars, and we sat down at the nearest table. I poured as he snipped the ends off the smokes. He picked up the match, expertly struck it on the heel of his boot, and held it out for me. I puffed mine to life then he did the same.
"Two on a match," I said through the thickening smoke. "Good luck..."
'Aye, that it is, " he agreed. We raised our glasses and the ring of their touch was music. "Cheers!"
Hair of the Wolf is open for business. Let the fun begin.
SHe should be in later today.