Bistro Bijou

[martha_stewart]

Scene IV

Tzara stands drumming his fingers on the bar.

Tz: Where's the damned jesuit when you need him. I asked for white fucking wine and not some pissant pinot plonk.

A well dressed woman enters stage right carrying a tray with two champagne flutes balanced carefully.

Martha Stewart: Sorry about the delay. I'm busy retraining the staff. They have the oddest notions of what a feather duster was designed to do.

She brushes up beside Tzara, hands him one of the flutes with a flourish and leans decorously against the bar.

Martha: Mind if I join you? It's spumante ... a bit precocious maybe, but this isn't the Ritz. I do so like a man who isn't afraid of ordering white wine. Sooo damned metrosexual. Let me put on some music...

She walks over to the juke box, running her fingers languidly over the keys as she reads the playlist.

Martha: Oooh, I can see that you understand bass coupling ... so rare these days. Do you wax your chest?

Tzara swallows and studies the bubbles in his glass with intensity.

Tz: Erm...

The speakers come to life with this ...

Fade to ecru ...




::

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Crawls out from under the piano and wonders who's feet are sttill there, retrieves feather duster and crawls back to investigate. Funny choice of music on the juke box has someone been at the green fairy?

 

[Safe_Bet]

Scene IV

Tzara stands drumming his fingers on the bar.

Tz: Where's the damned jesuit when you need him. I asked for white fucking wine and not some pissant pinot plonk.

A well dressed woman enters stage right carrying a tray with two champagne flutes balanced carefully.

Martha Stewart: Sorry about the delay. I'm busy retraining the staff. They have the oddest notions of what a feather duster was designed to do.

She brushes up beside Tzara, hands him one of the flutes with a flourish and leans decorously against the bar.

Martha: Mind if I join you? It's spumante ... a bit precocious maybe, but this isn't the Ritz. I do so like a man who isn't afraid of ordering white wine. Sooo damned metrosexual. Let me put on some music...

She walks over to the juke box, running her fingers languidly over the keys as she reads the playlist.

Martha: Oooh, I can see that you understand bass coupling ... so rare these days. Do you wax your chest?

Tzara swallows and studies the bubbles in his glass with intensity.

Tz: Erm...

The speakers come to life with this ...

Fade to ecru ...

EWWWWW! NO, not Martha Stewart sex. Please don't go there. I beg of you! There isn't enough brain bleach in the entire world...

 

[martha_stewart]

EWWWWW! NO, not Martha Stewart sex. Please don't go there. I beg of you! There isn't enough brain bleach in the entire world...

I'm sorry dear, but I don't believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance. Leave your name with my assistant and we'll be happy to send you a signed glossy.



::

 

[Tzara]

Scene IV

Tzara stands drumming his fingers on the bar.

Tz: Where's the damned jesuit when you need him. I asked for white fucking wine and not some pissant pinot plonk.

A well dressed woman enters stage right carrying a tray with two champagne flutes balanced carefully.

Martha Stewart: Sorry about the delay. I'm busy retraining the staff. They have the oddest notions of what a feather duster was designed to do.

She brushes up beside Tzara, hands him one of the flutes with a flourish and leans decorously against the bar.

Martha: Mind if I join you? It's spumante ... a bit precocious maybe, but this isn't the Ritz. I do so like a man who isn't afraid of ordering white wine. Sooo damned metrosexual. Let me put on some music...

She walks over to the juke box, running her fingers languidly over the keys as she reads the playlist.

Martha: Oooh, I can see that you understand bass coupling ... so rare these days. Do you wax your chest?

Tzara swallows and studies the bubbles in his glass with intensity.

Tz: Erm...

The speakers come to life with this ...

TZARA: Actually, no. I use a depilatory.

(The juke box changes tracks.)

MARTHA: I would have thought that might be damaging to your, if I may say, rather sensitive skin.

Oh. (She looks slightly embarrassed.) I did say "chest," didn't I? One must keep one's mind on topic.

(TZARA shrugs.)

TZARA: You know, Ms. Stewart...

MARTHA: Please call me Martha. It's a good thing.

TZARA: Thank you. You know, Martha, I've been thinking that the bar needs to be livened up a touch. Perhaps a bit of découpage along the top?

(The juke box changes tracks again.)

MARTHA: (Pleased.) You do understand bass coupling.

TZARA: WHAT?

MARTHA: You know, Axl Rose makes the most darling little teacakes.

TZARA: WHAT?

(One of the champagne flutes shatters. The lights suddenly go out.)

TZARA: Damn. Tripped a breaker again. I thought I'd upgraded the service in here.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

*gropes through the darkness to the coffee pot* Damn! Stale again! *pours a cup anyway.*

*new tune

 

[darkmaas]

*gropes through the darkness to the coffee pot* Damn! Stale again! *pours a cup anyway.*

Ah, up at the crack of noon I see. Sorry that there's no cream, fridge is on the fritz. You'll have to forgive the mess but UYS has run off with the feather duster ...

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Ah, up at the crack of noon I see. Sorry that there's no cream, fridge is on the fritz. You'll have to forgive the mess but UYS has run off with the feather duster ...

I'm a minimilist coffee drinker, thanks all the same........I can't imagine what UYS does with all those feather dusters!

BTW - I've been up since 5.00 ay of the em.

 

[darkmaas]

TZARA: Actually, no. I use a depilatory.

(The juke box changes tracks.)

MARTHA: I would have thought that might be damaging to your, if I may say, rather sensitive skin.

Oh. (She looks slightly embarrassed.) I did say "chest," didn't I? One must keep one's mind on topic.

(TZARA shrugs.)

TZARA: You know, Ms. Stewart...

MARTHA: Please call me Martha. It's a good thing.

TZARA: Thank you. You know, Martha, I've been thinking that the bar needs to be livened up a touch. Perhaps a bit of découpage along the top?

(The juke box changes tracks again.)

MARTHA: (Pleased.) You do understand bass coupling.

TZARA: WHAT?

MARTHA: You know, Axl Rose makes the most darling little teacakes.

TZARA: WHAT?

(One of the champagne flutes shatters. The lights suddenly go out.)

TZARA: Damn. Tripped a breaker again. I thought I'd upgraded the service in here.

I'm sooo glad that Martha is finally starting to make friends. Just watch out for the folded exponential sub-woofer.



::

 

[darkmaas]

I'm a minimilist coffee drinker, thanks all the same........I can't imagine what UYS does with all those feather dusters!

BTW - I've been up since 5.00 ay of the em.

Oh my!

<Starts a fresh pot>

<Waits patiently for reasons why>




::

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Oh my!

<Starts a fresh pot>

<Waits patiently for reasons why>

::

<pours a fresh cup, takes a deep breath and..........



......exhales, smiling enigmatically.>

I was hungry - <new tune>

 

[UnderYourSpell]

A manly moan is heard from the backroom, the door flies open and several feathers float out. Thw door handle is caught on the second rebound and slammed shut again

 

[darkmaas]

<pours a fresh cup, takes a deep breath and..........



......exhales, smiling enigmatically.>

I was hungry - <new tune>

Beet seems to have a truckload of pinot grapes now that Tzara is engaging in white whine. Shall I get him to ship them over? For you, he would even peel them I'm sure.


::

 

[darkmaas]

A manly moan is heard from the backroom, the door flies open and several feathers float out. Thw door handle is caught on the second rebound and slammed shut again

Call 911. There's an oversexed rooster in the backroom doing unspeakable things ...


::

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

A manly gasp of pleasure is heard from the backroom, the door flies open and several feathers float out. Thw door handle is caught on the second rebound and slammed shut again

....that's better. I've used a feather or two in my time. I know how it works.

Beet seems to have a truckload of pinot grapes now that Tzara is engaging in white whine. Shall I get him to ship them over? For you, he would even peel them I'm sure.


::

He charges by the hour and is all thumbs - I'll just crush them under foot and lick the floor.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Pleasure? pleasure! who said I was in the mood to permit pleasure? after writing that murder poem I am in the mood for bloooood

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Pleasure? pleasure! who said I was in the mood to permit pleasure? after writing that murder poem I am in the mood for bloooood

Using a feather duster? Which end?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Using a feather duster? Which end?

Tess!! I'm sure I don't know what you mean! *wanders off whistling innocently*

 

[unpredictablebijou]

A figure wearing a long dark coat and a wide-brimmed hat leans on a lamppost across the street from the dilapidated Bistro. A thin calico cat winds itself in plaintive figure eights around the scuffed cowboy boots.

A low-slung sedan drives by slowly. The sedate bass thump of Gorilla Zoe echoes as it passes, then fades.

The figure sighs heavily and shoves its hands deeper into its pockets.

In a nearly inaudible drawl, the figure speaks.

"Well, shit."

Slowly, almost heavily, the figure straightens, shrugs against the cold, and walks slowly across the empty street toward the Bistro door.

The cat slides and arches against the lamppost, watching. Its almond eyes glint in the yellow circle of the streetlight.

 

[Tzara]

A figure wearing a long dark coat and a wide-brimmed hat leans on a lamppost across the street from the dilapidated Bistro. A thin calico cat winds itself in plaintive figure eights around the scuffed cowboy boots.

A low-slung sedan drives by slowly. The sedate bass thump of Gorilla Zoe echoes as it passes, then fades.

The figure sighs heavily and shoves its hands deeper into its pockets.

In a nearly inaudible drawl, the figure speaks.

"Well, shit."

Slowly, almost heavily, the figure straightens, shrugs against the cold, and walks slowly across the empty street toward the Bistro door.

The cat slides and arches against the lamppost, watching. Its almond eyes glint in the yellow circle of the streetlight.

You don't look at all like Orson Welles.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

You don't look at all like Orson Welles.

The hat's all wrong too.

Just humor me. I'm being all noir and shit.

Nice asian pop sets, by the way.

*rummages around in boxes behind bar*

We got any cat food around here? I could always just open some smoked oysters, I suppose.

And do I hear an angry peacock in the back room, or is that Annie?

.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

*peeks in through the dusty glass and whispers, "Holy Shit! Bistro's Open!"*

 

[Tzara]

And do I hear an angry peacock in the back room, or is that Annie?

The Magic Wand won't run with the power out. I think I overstressed the circuits.

Or she just got tired of the dust, perhaps.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Dora, sweet. How are you?

*brushes ineffectively at the dust on a chaise lounge* I'm going to have to have this place steam cleaned.

And rewired, apparently. We're going to need a lot more power for all that equipment in the back room. Whose is that, anyway, as if I couldn't guess?


.

 

[Tzara]

We're going to need a lot more power for all that equipment in the back room. Whose is that, anyway, as if I couldn't guess?

I was stimulating the economy.