The Bent Nail Saloon.

*listens to Cella on the cello

piana, acctually. I can see where the confusion comes in though




*doesn't spit*

's funny. I thought you had a monkey to play the piano

I was the monkey ---at one point! LOL

no comment!

*comes back from town with cookbook and fresh ingredients*


time for the lunch crowd. What'll it be?


*writes on chalkboard:
Option one: smoked salmon with provolone cheese and cliantro dressing served with wild rice and potato chowder

Option two: sweet potato pie with ham and seasoned breadcrumbs, served with spinach salad and strawberrie dressing

Option three: beer.*

I'll have a double portion of option 3!

pfft!

all that work for nothin! You just want what we already had?



*brings pitcher of beer to MrWrite*


you don't need a glass, right?

Naw this is just fine

Whoa, Cella. You've been busy! I can't cook any of that stuff that Cella has on the board. Let's see...*picks up chalk and writes*

Chili
Beefsteak
Bacon

*dusts hands* Yep. That'll do.

hey syno!

I can't stay long, just wanted to drop you a line

you're on now right? cuz all this fish stink has got me needin a shower.

I'm here. Everything is sort of under control.

Synonym said:

Whoa, Cella. You've been busy! I can't cook any of that stuff that Cella has on the board. Let's see...*picks up chalk and writes*

Chili
Beefsteak
Bacon

*dusts hands* Yep. That'll do.

Click to expand...

Just give me a shovel load of bacon

Coming right up. Need anything to help wash that pig down?

A gallon of beer oughtta do it

Gallon? Just a minute, I've got to find the pitcher. Ah, hell, here's a hogshead barrel, that'll work, right?

Anything that contains a lot of beer works for me

Here you go. Enjoy. I tapped it for you and found a hollow reed. Here's your side of bacon. *chucks a bushel basket up beside the keg*

I'll be mixing a bromo-seltzer up in the backroom for you. Holler if you need anything else.

Much obliged Ma'am.

*takes food and beer and sits at a table to eat.

Do you need some entertainment? I could go find the organ-grinder. No, forget that. Haggis took his monkey. Ah, Cella's gone so, no piano music. Never mind.

*stops by on the way to the Pony Express office to check the Saloon*

Hmmm. Mr. Write looks quite comfortable curled up on the floor hugging that hogshead of beer. I'd better leave Cella a note about that stomach medicine I brewed up for him. Looks like he might need it later.

*hears a noise and opens one bleary eye....

I didn't know there were two of you!

Ah. Morning Mr. Write. You don't look quite so dapper this morning. Cella ought to be in before much longer if you need anything. Maybe she'll fix you breakfast?

Breakfast sounds good. I think...

You might want to sit there for a few minutes before you commit. Make sure your brain has established communication with your stomach first.