The Hillbilly Homebrew Hour

CraigThor said:

I'm going nuts without updates....

Click to expand...

Mmmmmk, I'll give you a little teaser since you asked. And welcome by the way.

There has come to pass a crossroads of incredible scope. One that has far reaching consequences in design, in capital, and in aesthetics.

While design and mechanical were off obtaining capital, the agents in Central Intelligence were gathering data. After submitting said data to the State Department, the highest ranking Diplomat was dispatched for talks with.........you know who.

I am proud to announce that a tentative agreement has been reached. Nothing has been signed, but final negotiations are moving quickly.

So, according to how the final deal is settled, our next episode will be:

"Martha takes a Bubble Bath"

or

"Scratch This"

Adoption, yeah, that will feel good. I had not gotten over the terrible feeling of letting the 29g go, but what better way to get relief than giving another lonely tank a loving home. I had been hiding my lunch money for quite some time in anticipation. The day of the deal, I arrange for two laborers to meet me at the orphanage.

Why I would have to pay to rescue a tank from such conditions I will never know. A 12" long alligator had taken up residence where White Clouds and Kuhlis should roam. I was so overcome with despair, and hungry, that I make a generous offer for the tail of the alligator only. I've never tried it, but what a fantastic way to celebrate a new relationship. I fix supper, Martha certainly isn't with this on the menu, and we save another tank from the death squeals of mice and crickets. I think the owner actually gave my offer some serious consideration but, the trade value at the LFS/Bird Cage/Gerbil Den/Lizard Emporium must have far exceeded my offer.

After watching countless scoops of "gator gunk" being removed with an "I can't believe it's not butter" tub, I just couldn't take it anymore. "Quit, just quit!, We load the tank right now, or we fry that tail in butter". Sickening thought I know, but I was hungry.

We gingerly load 125g of pure paradise into the S.S. SookieSue, and pack the stand into one of the laborer's vehicle for the ride home. I scorn the inadequacy of the DOT for the 15 miles home. I drive like a Grandfather, oh so conscious of the feeble cargo that I command.

A temporary crib had been readied for the arrival. Intothenewinplaytex went to work on removing the foul signs of the previous caretaker. A shop vac is a mans best friend during times such as these. For the final polish, some one made the suggestion that Martha take a bubble bath and kill two birds so to speak. Well, that went over like a lead balloon. Meet 125g of pure paradise.



But the excitement was soon to end. After a detailed inspection, which should have been performed at the orphanage, I spot these permanent tattoos.



Never ever ever go to to an orphanage on an empty stomach! I hide my despair and call in the CIA for some damage control.

Ok, here's the plan. We shake down all of the informants for a substitute. We have a line on an LFS that is going belly-up. We also quietly inquire about a custom build. They also highly suggest that we pull in the most senior diplomat, this could get ugly.

A tale of MTS dens and an exploding LFS coming up.

CIA agent, “The local informants can only come up with a 75g max for adoption. The LFS that is folding has two 125s up for grabs. We suggest that you show Martha new pricing at GC on the interwebs and then go to the LFS and have a look. GC's reputation is in serious question, but they show low prices. We have another vendor in mind if the LFS deal doesn't work out.”



Senior Diplomat, “ Another vendor, you mean I am not going into this under full disclosure. I don't think you guys know who we are dealing with here. There is no Diplomatic Immunity.”



CIA agent, “Just think of all the people that are counting on you. The boys in mechanical have assured us that you will receive free Perrier for life if you can pull this off. We have an agent in place at the LFS, code name “MTS Chris”. He will know you when you walk in. Just follow his lead.”


Senior Diplomat, “Perrier, hmmmm, do you have an exit strategy?”


CIA agent, “We know from Martha's web traffic that she has been researching Dwarf Gourami's intensely, even more than the weather channel, which is an amazing turn. You see, her code name here is “Chicken Little”. She has this thing for bubble nests if you didn't know. That is the foundation of the exit strategy. All you have to do, if left with no other alternative, is state that the boys in mechanical have plans for a reptilian showcase if the current tank is to be used. We feel that you have a 79.7% chance of success. And it's about 50/50 on your survival with the exit strategy.”



Senior Diplomat, “I should have been a statistician, that's a 10.15% chance of a rope.”

Our diplomat of course has a revised plan from the recommendations of the CIA. The first move is to lure Martha next door to the floundering LFS for a couple of Fajitas. Being the most debonair of dinner guests, he makes small talk through the course and waits until coffee is served to make the first move.

"Have you heard of the Artsy Fartsy departments concerns with the current aquarium project?" Purchasing missed some scratches low on the tank and they feel this will be unacceptable. Don't think too harshly of the purchasing agent, there are assurances that the capital can be regained. I noticed on the way in here that the LFS next door is going out of business, would you like to have a look? Maybe we can help these folks out of this dilemma.

Martha hesitates for a moment, then replies, "Well, while I do understand and sympathize, I want to make one thing perfectly clear, every departments budget is locked as of this moment. No tires for the motorcycles in maintenance, no hunting stuff for mechanical, not even a colored pencil for artsy fartsy until we get this straight. Oh, and buy the way, that goes for the Perrier they promised you too."

Now the next move from our diplomat can only be described as the "E8" approach.

Have you ever walked into an exploding fish store, just after a Especial Dinner? It smells like 8 different kinds of excrement in a can. Never ever ever walk into an exploding fish store just after an Especial Dinner. Our diplomat braves the stench and inquires as to the whereabouts of any large tanks suitable for adoption. Martha follows walking on her toes. Never ever ever wear white tennis shoes into an exploding fish store. Assessment of the candidates is reported to be deplorable. One has a tattoo "Live to Swim" and the other "Mice, the other white meat".

Non too soon, the obvious agent "MTS Chris" touts that he has a 150g and a 180g that are available to a good home. They are just down the street. This is the first meeting of the minds in this difficult negotiation, let's just get out of here.

A short trip reveals why the CIA is the CIA. They sure know how to give code names. Our team enters through the basement, and in the first room, freshwater...freshwater...marine...freshwater...marine...marine. The second room, the candidates, both encrusted in a film that only saltwater can sustain. Assessment is futile, our diplomat asks what the cost of adoption for each might be. An answer in the realm of 60-70% of new is uttered. And at that point, our diplomat felt what is assuredly the pinnacle of any diplomatic career. Martha gestures that this just will not do, a gesture, only a gesture.

To understand the feelings of our diplomat, you must understand some of the teachings of Pooh, Winnie-the-Pooh. A very special philosophical parallel can be drawn in this case. Pooh, when asked what the very best thing about honey was, responded something to the effect, it's that very moment when you know that you have it. Not the hunt, not the consumption, but the moment just before your tongue feels the amazing taste and texture of the elixir.

With that gesture, our diplomat knew his job was complete. He cordially thanked MTS Chris, and insincerely commented to give the offer some consideration.

It's an I!



It's a H!



No, actually it's a W6 x 20# that can't leap a stinkin' thing without a LOTTA help.