Extraneous Voices of Picayune > Citadel Tavern

Anecdotes of the Bygone

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Ancient Gamer:
I love anecdotes.

This here shall serve as a repository of Strolenite bygone experiences. A place in which we can share outrageous, and not so outrageous, stories of things that were plain out of the ordinary.

Well, at least out of the ordinary for the storyteller.

Keep 'em short and extraordinary.

Ancient Gamer:
The Major of Hens

There was a time when old AG was studying history. During his studies, to earn a living, he worked in a kindergarten.

There, in the kindergarten, they had hired a former Bosnian Major in Tito's Yugoslavian Red Army as the leader.

This guy was really into military discipline. He had come to Norway as a refugee from the wars raging in ex-Yugoslavia during the 90's. Now, a leader once again, he tried to impose military discipline on the women, and AG, working under him. AG was no problem, he had already served in the navy, but the women... Oh, let me tell you about the women.

One was a young gold digger, wore high heels and red lipstick and flirted with every well to do dad that stopped by to pick up his child.
A couple of the women were 40 year old and divorced. "You are not a pig yet, AG, but you will be. All men are pigs, you see!", they told me.
One of the girls was a hippy. She had worked on cirkus in Hong Kong and Goa, India. Her specialty was fire eating and sword eating. She taught the kids how to sew joint teddy-bears and spent her free time enjoying the herb.
And so the story goes. The major of the red army struggled with the women, disciplined them, but they rallied and protested, they gathered in small groups and they absolutely refused to do anything he ordered.

Without the power to discipline them, and since a job as kindergarten assistant wasn't really sought after, the major was left powerless and the women succeeded in their rebellion.

He quit within a year and was replaced by a Danish woman who collected money from the parents (for fun events for the kids), then told her staff to sneak the kids into public transportation and take them somewhere free.

Where the money she constantly got from the parents went...
Well, "no one knew".

Ancient Gamer:
The Demented Collective

Turning 20, young AG started at a university. Naturally, he had to find a house. Somewhere to live. Soon enough he found an ad in a local newspaper. A respectable elderly lady rented out a mansion located in the suburbs of the capital. The rent was agreeable, and the mansion had some nice facilities like mansions are wont to do.

Arriving at the mansion, AG was stunned. It was a fashionable mansion alright. 40 years ago...

The entire estate was overgrown, the windows stained with dust and age. Inside the parents of the landlord had once lived. Her father had been a deeply religious painter; fascinated with death and religion. In the bedrooms: Austere depictions of grave moments; a funeral procession, lowering the coffin into the soil, the dying moment, the diseased screaming in their beds. The landlord, deeply attached to her parents, insisted that the paintings remain on the walls.

Soon enough the ghostlike mansion was filled with party animals; students in their late teens, early twenties, huddling together, walking the eerie halls.

The landlord (a woman in her late fifties that lived in a smaller, more modern house, next door) turned out to be completely nuts.

She absolutely hated us. She was unaccustomed to youth, so when we had parties she would come barging in, screaming for us to shut off the music. We would see one of her eyes peeking  through the lower corner of the windows, spying on us while we talked in the living room. One time I woke up while she rummaged through the drawers of the girl living next door. I did not know it was her, so I chased after her. When I finally caught up with her she aggressively told me that she had suspicions of drug use, and was searching for cannabis in the drawers.

Golden quotes of the crazy landlord:

--- Quote ---"You are tall, AG... I sleep with a steel bar beside my bed. If anyone tries to rape me, I will kill them"
--- End quote ---
(She said that completely out of context, while we were talking about the rent (she was also a huge, huge woman in her late fifties))


--- Quote ---"YOU MALE CHAUVINISTIC PIG! YOU THREATEN ME WITH YOUR SIZE! I WILL SUE YOU! I WILL SUE YOU! COME DOWN HERE, INSOLENT LITTLE BASTARD! I AM YOUR LANDLORD! MY COUSIN IS A LAWYER! COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
--- End quote ---
(I sat quietly on the top of the stairs as she screamed at the bottom of them. She was furious I had changed locks, refusing her entry to rummage through my stuff)


--- Quote ---"I have found a new tenant to move in with the rest of you. She is a proper lady, 28 years old. Finally some maturity. I hope you manage to behave"
--- End quote ---
(The new tenant was in reality 17 years old and a total raver. She did drugs, she did alcohol and she did everyone)


--- Quote ---"I have realized I need a proper gentleman to live with you. So I have decided to let a 50 year old man move in. He is more than twice your age, so I hope you behave"
--- End quote ---
(This new tenant turned out to be newly released from a mental institution. In the middle of the night, a pretty 20 year old girl woke up to the sound of FLOP-FLOP-FLOP-FLOP-FLOP above her lips and nose. Looking up she saw the new tenant, on his very first night, with his manhood proudly in his right hand, pulling the foreskin back and forth with rapid intensity. He was determined to come on her face while she slept)

After this "Night of Terror", when all the girls hid in my room and huddled around me in my bed as the madman stalked the halls, wanking, we all decided to move.

Two years later a friend of mine talked to a colleague, newly arrived from another town.

"I have moved into a fashionable mansion", he said, and continued to tell about some of the nicer things there.

"Oh... Tell me... Is it at <this address>?", my friend said.

"How did you know?", the colleague said.

"You are @!#$ed. That place is a nightmare. HAHAHAHAHA!", my friend said, probably in more polite manner but with the same message.

The colleague was insulted and left after protesting about the quality of the place and the finer nature of his new landlord.

Six months later they met again. This time he had dark rings under his eyes, and my friend asked him how it was going. It turns out he was in the middle of a lawsuit against his landlord and was moving back to his hometown.

Scrasamax:
The Steak and Shake Event

For my foreign friends, Steak n Shake is a retro style 50s diner fast food restaurant that serves hamburgers, milkshakes and baked beans in little ceramic crocks. My wife and I had just closed up our first model horse show, it was 11pm on a Saturday night, and we were famished. After working the entire day, running errands and keeping the show up and running I prepared for my final errand. I was the first to arrive at the 24 hr eatery, and I informed them that there was a group coming, and it was going to be at the minimum 12 people, but could be as large as 20, ordered a thing of french fries and a drink, and went and found a seat.

By ones and twos the members of our post show dinner party showed up, were seated and placed their orders.

I have no food at this point.

The last of the show goers arrives, and with them, my wife, as she had to lock up the show hall and turn off the lights, everyone has their order taken, and food is starting to come out of the kitchen, but the orders are messed up, and wrong.

I still have no food, people are starting to get annoyed with the wait staff which has vanished, and the complete lack of food. At this point, our party is occupying more than half of the entire dining area. Burgers are coming out mashed so thin there are holes in the patties. Toppings are wrong, and some food is coming out still half frozen. The show, for me, started at 6 AM that morning, for some it was earlier than that as they drove in that morning and they just wanted some food.

A pregnant waitress broke down and started crying.

"WHY ARE YOU CRYING! YOU'VE NOT DONE ANYTHING WRONG!" now mind you yelling at a pregnant woman isn't always the most reasonable or rational thing, but this level of irrational behavior made her stop crying and she realized that no one was mad at HER, everyone was mad at the KITCHEN for dropping the ball, even with almost 45 min warning.

The third shift manager comes out, addresses our concerns and complaints and tells us the problem is that we arrived at shift change, and that the second shift supervisor screwed 3rd shift and that he was very sorry and would see what he could do to expedite the orders.

I would like to mention that at this point I've still not gotten the french fries I ordered over an hour and half before.

The slow miserable trickle of piss poor meals continues to come out of the kitchen, and finally, finally after 90 minutes I get my french fries.

The second shift manager makes and appearance and begins to apologize for the mess, and my wife, 'You know the 3rd shift manager is pinning this all on you?' He gets the most WTF look on his face. 'Yes, he says its your fault, and that you and your guys screwed him over.' His hands go to fists and he leaves.

I wouldn't be surprised if there was a fist fight in the parking lot. I'm serious.

We finished our disaster, and filed out, I think maybe 3 people paid for their meals, everyone else got apologies from the cashier.

A few weeks later Steak n Shake closed.

It's a furniture rental store now.

Inside the hobby, it is know infamous as the Steak n Shake event.

Ancient Gamer:
The Black Night

In Norway they have this policy that to prevent people from drinking too much alcohol, they put ridiculous taxes on it. See, we learnt that prohibition did not work, so here we have insanely high alcohol prices. You will hear this from anyone who ever visited our country.

The solution was that people started making their own home brew. Highly illegal moonshine, from 40% to 96%, alcohol.

In my youth, when my wallet was empty, but my thirst for life was great, me and my friends often drank moonshine, destilled at my best friend's destillery. We would sit with our cups waiting, while the precious droplets of alcohol trickled into our cups. Or more often he had destilled all week long before we came, and we fetched the ice cold homemade booze from the fridge and drank it.

One day a lot of our friends gathered, and we drank a lot of moonshine. There were some new kids there too, including a beautiful girl and her boyfriend.

Naturally we all got uber drunk. The kind of drunk you only get on moonshine. During this bout of drinking we had several infamous episodes.

Episode #1: To Hell With Him!

My friend Tom was sick and tired of the guy with the beautiful girlfriend. Not because there was something wrong with him, but because he was the boyfriend of the beautiful girl.

"Jump into this shopping cart, I will take you for a roll!", Tom told him, and unsuspecting the boyfriend did as ordered.

No sooner had he jumped in, before Tom started running like a madman downhill.

"What the @!#$ are you doing?", the boyfriend asked, the cart rolling at super speed down the cobblestone slope.

As Tom was about to shove the cart over the edge of the docks, the boyfriend jumped out and rolled on the ground.

Episode #2: The Sinister Attack!

Later that night, the boys were utterly and irrevokably drunk. We walked in a shamble, and found a park of trees. Tom started screaming and charged the trees. "Kill them!", he screamed and everyone went amok, attacking the trees with fists and kicks. I looked on for a while, thought them demented and walked home to the after-party.

Episode #3: Driving Miss Daisy!

The after party was a blast. I had the beautiful girl on my own (nowadays she is my wife), but Tom failed to show up. So we went looking for him. After half an hour we found him. As we walked past a small house, we heard sounds coming from a car. A human voice.

"BRRRRM, BRRRRRRM, BRRRRRRRRRM!", the voice said.

Walking up the car, we found Tom inside. On the ground; a rock and pieces of glass. Tom had broken into the car using a rock, and now he sat inside, drunk like @!#$, and thought he was driving home. When we talked to him, he just screamed: "Get in, I will drive you home!" and I seem to recall we did.

After a while we walked away.

None of us dared walk past the house for several months.

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