Excellent. For this time forward, N°4 Neutral Road will be known as Villa Iguana, or the Sexy Saurian Splendid Seat.
And now, onto architectural renovation and designer furnitures!
Miscellaneous Street - The Soap Opera
- Thread starter Miss Chicken
- Start date
And now, onto architectural renovation and designer furnitures!
I'd like to open up a diner on Central Avenue, called "Cali's Diner".
That's a very dangerous place for a diner. All sorts of unpleasent types around that might do harm to your fine establishment.
I'll be willing to put your diner under my...protection...for 25% of your profits. Then you won't have to worry about anyone, say, burning your diner to the ground.
I'd like to be the hermit who lives in the cave.
Hmmm . . . sounds like a limerick.
Any hookers?
Plot! We have plot!I'd like to open up a diner on Central Avenue, called “Cali's Diner”.
That's a very dangerous place for a diner. All sorts of unpleasent types around that might do harm to your fine establishment.
I'll be willing to put your diner under my...protection...for 25% of your profits. Then you won't have to worry about anyone, say, burning your diner to the ground.
Can I have a small coffee shoppe/cafe on Central between Neutral Road and Miscellaneous Street - but, a little closer to Neutral Road - maybe facing Neutral Road, with a back door open to a big yard that fronts on Miscellaneous Street.
Also, can I have a liquor license so I can sell drinks on Friday and Saturday nights when we have small local bands play?
Also, can I have a liquor license so I can sell drinks on Friday and Saturday nights when we have small local bands play?
In the wilderness there stands a tree,
For those of you who like nuts, just come and see!
Here lives a mighty squirrel a sign does say,
He has over a gazillion nuts... NO WAY!
Just take your paws of its trunk,
Even if you are so very drunk.
One last warning for those who care,
Thieves are castrated, so beware!
Here now ends this silly rhyme,
And it did not even cost you a single dime!
For those of you who like nuts, just come and see!
Here lives a mighty squirrel a sign does say,
He has over a gazillion nuts... NO WAY!
Just take your paws of its trunk,
Even if you are so very drunk.
One last warning for those who care,
Thieves are castrated, so beware!
Here now ends this silly rhyme,
And it did not even cost you a single dime!
Can I have a house on Miscellaneous Street? I'll be the moderately insane hippy mother with 6 children, multiple pets, and hairy legs (but I'll wear long skirts so I won't scare the neighbours). I'll grow my own herbs and vegetables, and maybe some happy mushrooms. I'll have a groovy crystal collection and help my neighbours to cleanse their houses of bad karma, whether or not they'll want me to. Incense and nut loaves, anyone?
Can I take one of the shops/apartments? I would like to set up a friendly neighborhood bar/pub.
... uh, I don't know what you mean ...
I'd love to be your neighbour, but I need a garden for my, erm, special herbs and happy mushrooms, not to mention my 6 children. We'll have to see if Miss Chicken can work that out for us.
OK - I have only just got up so I am not completely alert. Everyone gets their residence of choice but i will work out just who is where when I am fully awake which will be after I have a cup of coffee.
People wanting to grow magic mushrooms and the like should be bothered too much. If the police show up all you have to do is tell the coppers that your marijuana plants are 'African Tomato Plants" and you should be OK. Our police do not have much knowledge of botany.
People wanting to grow magic mushrooms and the like should be bothered too much. If the police show up all you have to do is tell the coppers that your marijuana plants are 'African Tomato Plants" and you should be OK. Our police do not have much knowledge of botany.
But do they have knowledge of bribery?
I think some, or maybe many of them, are reasonably easy to bribe. However I think it helps if the briber is a beautiful young woman.
I'd like to live in an apartment above a shop too, but my shop is never open. The windows are dusty and the display that has remained untouched for over a decade completely blocks the interior shop from view. Faded sky blue and maroon (now almost salmon pink) draperies hang from ceiling to floor. A few half empty paint buckets and a two-step ladder sit to the left, and to the right a man's jacket, of indeterminable color, long out of style, hangs on an old-fashioned wooden modeling frame. A lamp, always dark. Some paint brushes. A slightly crumpled paper bag. Everything half draped in a clear plastic painter's drop cloth. There is no sign to indicate what the shop is, or once was, and while the contents of the display might have hinted at haberdashery, there is something too mysterious about the aura of the place to be explained away by men's fashion.
Outside the window the paint peels, but the delicate flowers are somehow always tended -- eerie, as no one is ever seen tending to them. Sometimes music emanates from the upper floor -- from those windows that never open more than a crack. The plaintive melodies of the piano float on the very wind; Chopin, Rachmaninov, Cyndi Lauper. People have sworn that at night they have glimpsed the figure of a young woman dancing on the rooftop under cover of darkness, but when they look properly she is gone.
Theories and rumors abound as to what goes on in that shop and its flat. Aside from the odd package (and by "odd" I mean not only infrequent, but unusual) being delivered, no one is ever seen coming or going from the place. Even the hapless delivery boys are left instructions as to where to leave these packages. The notes are always typewritten. Some speculate that the inhabitant is a beautiful young woman scorned, and driven mad by betrayal; she lurks in her cupboards and throws paints on canvasses, drinks sherry and talks to her television. Others think it is an ancient spinster woman, who lost her beau in the Big War, and who, rather than accepting or even understanding his death, instead froze herself in time, like Mrs Havisham's decaying shoeless wedding costume; at midnight she dances with the ghost of her love, regaining her youthful shapeliness and radiant visage only in the the starlight, and in the reflection in his lifeless eyes. Still others suspect that the mysterious lady is a spy or a sleuth...if anyone is expert at observing from the shadows, it is her.
Outside the window the paint peels, but the delicate flowers are somehow always tended -- eerie, as no one is ever seen tending to them. Sometimes music emanates from the upper floor -- from those windows that never open more than a crack. The plaintive melodies of the piano float on the very wind; Chopin, Rachmaninov, Cyndi Lauper. People have sworn that at night they have glimpsed the figure of a young woman dancing on the rooftop under cover of darkness, but when they look properly she is gone.
Theories and rumors abound as to what goes on in that shop and its flat. Aside from the odd package (and by "odd" I mean not only infrequent, but unusual) being delivered, no one is ever seen coming or going from the place. Even the hapless delivery boys are left instructions as to where to leave these packages. The notes are always typewritten. Some speculate that the inhabitant is a beautiful young woman scorned, and driven mad by betrayal; she lurks in her cupboards and throws paints on canvasses, drinks sherry and talks to her television. Others think it is an ancient spinster woman, who lost her beau in the Big War, and who, rather than accepting or even understanding his death, instead froze herself in time, like Mrs Havisham's decaying shoeless wedding costume; at midnight she dances with the ghost of her love, regaining her youthful shapeliness and radiant visage only in the the starlight, and in the reflection in his lifeless eyes. Still others suspect that the mysterious lady is a spy or a sleuth...if anyone is expert at observing from the shadows, it is her.