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Source: (consider it)
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Thread: Circus: Mafia: An offer you can't refuse
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The Great Gumby
Ship's Brain Surgeon
# 10989
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Posted
A new game of Mafia. Please sign up here if you want to play. I’ll leave registration open until Monday at least, before assigning roles and announcing the start of the game.
For anyone unfamiliar with the game, I'll give a brief rundown of how to play, but further information is available from the Wikipedia page for Mafia (Game), and there's an excellent thread in Limbo to give you an idea of how it works in practice. In particular, I'll be following Teufelchen's Guide to Mafia (starting here) very closely.
In summary, you will be assigned a secret identity. You will either be a mobster or an innocent, although there are variations within those categories, which I'll explain in more detail once roles have been allocated, when I intend to post a list of roles I may be using within the game, but no information about likely numbers of each role. The aim of the mobsters is to take control of the town by murdering innocents. The aim of the innocents is to survive by identifying and lynching the mob.
The game swaps between day and night phases, which I will announce. During the night, players with certain roles may perform specific secret actions (the mob, for example, may murder an innocent overnight). Once these actions are complete, I will announce daybreak, and any deaths as a result of these actions, along with the roles of the dead players. Anyone who has been murdered will have an opportunity to post a moving, comic, or just plain bizarre death scene, before the townsfolk have their chance of revenge.
Once this has been done, townsfolk are allowed to accuse others of being mobsters. There will be no limit on the number of townsfolk who may be accused, but each player may only make one accusation per phase. Please also remember that making too many accusations is likely to attract unwanted attention from the other townsfolk. Once the accusation period is closed, anyone still left alive may vote on which of the accused they want to lynch. I will accept a majority of those voting as sufficient to secure a lynching, but I will also allow a vote of None of the above. If a player is lynched, I will reveal their role, they may post a death scene, and then night will fall again. Otherwise, we move straight on to night.
As in previous games, I'll slow the game down over the weekends, so that those who are ashore at that time can still participate. This game is most likely to be a fairly simple one, for the benefit of those who haven't played before, but I'll take a final decision based on numbers. All being well, I hope to follow this up with a more complex game involving some interesting roles.
That's all the boring admin out of the way, and apologies for the length of it. Apart from expressing an interest in playing, feel free to develop your characters (not strictly necessary, but adds to the flavour), or ask any questions you may have about the game. As ever, I apologise to anyone who gets bumped off early. And now...
Welcome to Little Florence, Massachusetts. Once a major centre of commerce thanks to the large number of bank offices in the city, its current economic position is, er, less secure. So far, job losses haven't been too severe, but the future looks shaky, and business confidence is plummeting. A banker was recently found dead in his office, with a gun in his hand and a gunshot wound to the head, but police are yet to confirm suicide.
[ 31. October 2009, 10:22: Message edited by: Chorister ]
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The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool. - Richard Feynman
A letter to my son about death
Posts: 5382 | From: Home for shot clergy spouses | Registered: Feb 2006
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Smudgie
Ship's Barnacle
# 2716
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Posted
They called her The Smudge. It was not exactly a nickname, certainly no pet name, she was simply that sort of a woman - the kind that always seemed to be there, somewhere in the shadows; the kind that nobody really got to know too deeply; the kind with an aura of a secret past into which there was no encouragement to delve, though what was held deep in her memory may have been nothing sinister at all. There was no way of knowing. Maybe nobody knew - apart from The Smudge, and the small nameless black and white cat who accompanied her at all times.
Nobody knew quite what she did for a living, though a living she clearly had, as she had recently purchased the old mansion house up on the hill. Her clothes, dull and dowdy, were nevertheless well made and seemed to come from a bottomless wardrobe. What will Little Florence make of this new addition to their community, who appears at church, in the neighbourhood bars and coffee shops, who walks in the park and shops in the local store, but who is, to all intents and purposes, little more than a shadow. A Smudge.
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Miss you, Erin.
Posts: 14382 | From: Under the duvet | Registered: Apr 2002
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jedijudy
Organist of the Jedi Temple
# 333
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Posted
Oooh, sounds like fun! I'm in.
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Jasmine, little cat with a big heart.
Posts: 18017 | From: 'Twixt the 'Glades and the Gulf | Registered: Aug 2001
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Sioni Sais
Shipmate
# 5713
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Posted
The Man Who Wasn't Welsh (TMW3) didn't fit in anywhere, so a small town with a (once) healthy financial services sector was just about perfect. No one knew much about him, apart from the fact that he wasn't Welsh.
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"He isn't Doctor Who, he's The Doctor"
(Paul Sinha, BBC)
Posts: 24276 | From: Newport, Wales | Registered: Apr 2004
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la vie en rouge
Parisienne
# 10688
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Posted
Lucinda Reede said goodbye to her last pupil for the day and opened the door for him. She watched as he walked wearily up the path to go home. She felt rather sorry for him really, she could tell that he hated playing the cello and only came to lessons because his mother made him. She could hardly refuse his money, though, could she? Some of her other pupils had dropped off recently because their parents couldn't afford it any more.
With the day's teaching over, she needed to get on with some practice before her recital next week. She settled down to work on her Brahms.
(I love this game ![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif) )
[punctuation]
[ 06. January 2009, 15:07: Message edited by: lady in red ]
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Rent my holiday home in the South of France
Posts: 3696 | Registered: Nov 2005
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Sir Kevin
Ship's Gaffer
# 3492
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Posted
(aside: Having lost twice in earlier games, I shall enjoy this one vicariously from my armchair.)
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If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Writing is currently my hobby, not yet my profession.
Posts: 30517 | From: White Hart Lane | Registered: Oct 2002
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Imaginary Friend
Real to you
# 186
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Posted
D. Avelarge, businessman, philanthropist, and owner of the Little Florence Nightingales hockey team was thinking of retirement. The local economy was bearing up under the weight of the excesses of the last twenty years, but surely it was only a matter of time before things got hard. Comfortable as he was, did he really want to slug through two or three years of recession when he could be devoting his time to the 23rd Street shelter and the 'Gales? A sizable part of him answered an emphatic "no" to that question. Picking up the TV remote, he put on the news, and reclined comfortably in his chair as he waited for his lunch date to drop by...
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"We had a good team on paper. Unfortunately, the game was played on grass."
Brian Clough
Posts: 9455 | From: Left a bit... Right a bit... | Registered: May 2001
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fletcher christian
Mutinous Seadog
# 13919
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Posted
Travis ran the local amusement arcade in town - the only lucrative business left in town. Times may be tough, but few ever gave up on the dream of spending their hard earned cash in hope of a miserable pay-out on a one armed bandit. In times like these, Travis felt like a theif, stealing from the miserable and poor to make himself rich.... maybe it was time to listen to concience and start a new line of work, but what would be good in these times? Most days he spent time hanging out at the door, cig in mouth and elbow on broom handle listening intently to the buzz of gossip on the floor
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'God is love insaturable, love impossible to describe'
Staretz Silouan
Posts: 5235 | From: a prefecture | Registered: Jul 2008
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El Greco
Shipmate
# 9313
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Posted
Dr André, the famous French doctor of the economic elite was starting to feel insecure. Not that his, let's say savings, were threatened by the recent crisis. No, he has enough bars of gold and pieces of art that he wouldn't even notice the crisis were it not for his famous clients getting, well, rather anxious because of their investment choices.
The people of Little Florence might be good, but they weren't bright as far as investments go... They should have invested in art. Art never loses its value, dr André thought.
And what's that now? One of his clients dead? A suicide maybe? Silly people. Just go bankrupt and start over. Why kill yourself over money, André thought, looking at his new Picasso at the wall of his bedroom.
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Ξέρω εγώ κάτι που μπορούσε, Καίσαρ, να σας σώσει.
Posts: 11285 | Registered: Apr 2005
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Teufelchen
Shipmate
# 10158
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Posted
Professor Rufus de Ville, professor emeritus of parapsychology from one of the state's older, but not necessarily more distinguished universities, put down his morning paper and took another gulp of coffee. The financial crisis was bothering him rather more than some of his colleagues, since without tenure, he had been relying on private funding for some of his research projects. Now, with spare capital becoming increasingly rare, he was trying without success to find an alternative source of income. He liked his coffee well enough, but the local coffee houses seemed unwilling to hire a barista who was the wrong side of 65 and had a pronounced nervous stutter...
A headline caught his eye. Another banking suicide? Perhaps other people were worse affected by all this after all.
(I'm in.)
T.
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Little devil
Posts: 3894 | From: London area | Registered: Aug 2005
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Pax Romana
Shipmate
# 4653
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Posted
Patty Romano had always wanted to sing in the world's leading opera houses, but lately she had to content herself with whatever work she could get. In Little Florence, this was at her brother's Italian restaurant. It was generally recognized that Patty's singing was one of the main attractions of the place, since the food was not anything to write home about.
Pax Romana
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I used to wake up at 4 A.M. and start sneezing, sometimes for five hours. I tried to find out what sort of allergy I had but finally came to the conclusion that it must be an allergy to consciousness.
James Thurber
Posts: 4598 | From: New York City | Registered: Jun 2003
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Ye Olde Motherboarde
Ship's Mother and Singing Quilter
# 54
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Posted
Don Carmen was watching over the grapa making and the olive pressing in back of his barber shop in Little Italy. His son, Domenico, came in to tell him and everyone in the shop of the local gossip. Everyone was laughing and swapping stories, when Don Giovanni, the local consiglieri, walked in for a haircut. A stranger came a little afterward and sat down for a cut, but, unknown to everyone, there was a weapon under his coat.
It all happened so fast. And the body of Don Giovanni lay in a pool of blood.
The word got out quickly In Little Italy. The Don of the dons, Don Georgio, knew that this was only the beginning.
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In Memory of Miss Molly, TimC, Gambit, KenWritez, koheleth, Leetle Masha, JLG, Genevieve, Erin, RuthW2, deuce2, Sidi and TonyCoxon, unbeliever, Morlader, Ken :tear: 20 years but who’s counting?..................
Posts: 4292 | From: Looking for more trouble to get into | Registered: May 2001
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Dafyd
Shipmate
# 5549
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Posted
quote:
Originally posted by Sioni Sais:
No one knew much about him, apart from the fact that he wasn't Welsh.
Dafyd the Post claimed to be Welsh certainly. But was he Welsh? His accent was as convincing as Dick Van Dyke's cockney, and when he spoke Welsh it sounded very like English being spoken slowly and loudly.
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we remain, thanks to original sin, much in love with talking about, rather than with, one another. Rowan Williams
Posts: 10567 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Feb 2004
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Stevie Boy Wonder
Shipmate
# 11869
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Posted
Steve Buckland flicked idlely through the morning paper. Death, tragedy, death, financial crisis, death, crime, death, murder, death, suicide and death - it all whizzed past his eyes. And then, finally, on page 48 was what he'd been looking for. The Garfield cartoon.
With the tales of a lasagne-eating cat providing suitable escapism, Steve finished his breakfast and picked up his car keys. Having only recently qualified as a teacher, he knew he was fortunate to have fallen into a job almost straight away. But Little Florence's problems ran deep, all the way down to the eight-year-olds in his classroom. Some of the kids were coming to school hungry because their parents couldn't afford to feed them properly; several had lost one or both parents, seemingly because they simply couldn't cope with the financial pressures. There wasn't a single child in the class who wasn't affected in some way by what was happening, and Steve hoped that through the tough times, he could not just educate them, but inspire them to make a difference as the next generation of citizens.
Another challenging day at Little Florence Elementary School lay ahead. Steve headed for the car, unaware of what the next few days would bring...
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Jesus saves. But in the current economic climate, His pension probably won't be enough for eternity...
Also by the same author
Posts: 1599 | From: Wherever I lay my hat, that's my home | Registered: Sep 2006
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Rev per Minute
Shipmate
# 69
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Posted
The Rev Patrick Permin walked down Main Street, greeting various townspeople as he went. He had been in this town for ten years, watching his congregation slowly decline and the collections with it. Still people expected to marry at the old colonial church, but most of his business nowadays was funerals - and even those were being taken over by the large undertakers. The diocese, always looking to 'consolidate' as the new bishop put it, was asking to look at the parish's books for the first time in years.
Mr Permin looked at the empty shops, the hurried walk of many people, the large number of retired people. How would the town survive? How would the church survive? He thought of the woman he had visited whose husband had died suspiciously: the police were still carrying out their tests and would not release the body for a funeral. The young woman was distraught that she could not bury her husband and he had tried to comfort her, but nothing seemed to help. 'Just like the town,' he thought, and continued his walk towards the Presbyterian Church where his weekly chess game - helped with a glass or two of good Scotch - was waiting.
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"Allons-y!" "Geronimo!" "Oh, for God's sake!" The Day of the Doctor
At the end of the day, we face our Maker alongside Jesus. RIP ken
Posts: 2696 | From: my desk (if I can find the keyboard under this mess) | Registered: May 2001
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Bishop Banner snapped open his paper at the breakfast table and glowered at his far-too-hard-boiled egg. Really, the hired help were not worth paying these days. Everything seemed so difficult lately. The diocese was in real trouble, and everyone seemed embattled. The bishop house had been broken into so many times in the last year that his housekeeper, Bunny, had developed an acute anxiety disorder. Never a robust woman, he had caught her doing some very strange things lately. He sighed, and went back to reading the ever growing obituary column in the Little Massachussets Bugle.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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leonato
Shipmate
# 5124
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Posted
Salvatore Leonato opened the blinds of his little restaurant "Leonato's Authentic Pizzeria". And it was authentic, sort of, Salvatore was born and raised in the heart of Sicily before coming to Little Florence 20 years ago.
Unfortunately Salvatore can't even boil an egg so all the cooking is done by two Korean immigrants. Not that the tourist trade could tell an authentic pizza if he hit them over the head with one. He knew, he had tried that once.
He gives a table a desultory wipe down before pouring himself a large glass of wine from the bar. He feels he needs it, it might be a long day.
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leonato... Much Ado
Posts: 892 | From: Stage left | Registered: Oct 2003
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Sylvander
Shipmate
# 12857
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Posted
Sir van der Hill had moved into Little Florence not so long ago. He resided in a large flat which nobody so far had seen from inside.
He seemed polite enough but you did not really get to know him. What nobody knew was: was he really the dark, secretive and shady creature he seemed or was he just pretending in order to make himself look mysterious and interesting? Maybe all he wanted was the harmless chuckle over his night whisky when he recalled the past day's wanderings in the streets and the fearsome townsfolk's hushed whispers he could hear behind his back?
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A martyr is someone living with a saint.
2509
Posts: 1589 | From: Berlin | Registered: Jul 2007
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Adam.
Like as the
# 4991
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Posted
Harry Artson suddenly realized what he'd done and wiped the blood off his blade.
"Terribly sorry, sir, twenty years as the town's barber and I've never made so much as a nick until today." The customer was very understanding, but Harry still felt he should let him have the shave for free. What was making him so jumpy all of a sudden? Sure business was bad, what with half of his best customers killing themselves recently, and the other half going broke, but was there something else bothering him too?
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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog
Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003
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Chelley
Ship's Old Boot
# 11322
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Posted
Professor Chells sat at the desk in her cosey, little flat, surrounded by books and worked on her latest journal article. When the light grew dim, she got up and went to the window and looked out over the neighbourhood. She wondered what the new year would bring to this community she called home...
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"I love old things, they make me feel sad."
"What's good about sad?"
"It's happy for deep people!"
Sally Sparrow to Kathy - Doctor Who
Posts: 2870 | From: Wonderland, UK | Registered: Apr 2006
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ephemera
Shipmate
# 13355
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Posted
No one in Little Florence knew much about Ella M. Peae, who arrived in town only a month ago. To all who took the time to look, she appeared to have no visible means of support.
She glanced at a message on her cell and immediately texted back, "I'm in" while silently mouthing those words.
She continued to walk into town. She hoped no one would see the 2 small colorful lizards she had stashed, one in each of her two breast pockets. She also hoped she would NOT run into anyone Welsh.
[ 08. January 2009, 16:20: Message edited by: ephemera ]
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A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket -
And you listening. T. Hughes
Posts: 583 | Registered: Jan 2008
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Posted
Jane Austen-Wreath peered over her glasses from the large table in the main library reading room. Austen Wreaths had done well for Christmas with the once-a-year evergreen rings, but she wasn't sure her non-holiday faux country calico wreath business was going to hold up in failing Little Florence. And now her banker had gone and died, and everyone was skulking around looking glum. Or guilty. Neither look invited cheery conversation about door decorations.
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Bishop Banner was somewhat perplexed. His housekeeper had been missing for several days and was not returning calls. He wondered how long he could continue calling emergency dinner and lunch meetings at the presbytries of the various clerics of Little Florence, Little Pisa, Little Sicily, Little Venice and Roma Minor which made up his diocese. And should he attempt to find where the coffee grinder and percolator was kept in the kitchen? At least he knew his way around the wine cellar. He poured himself a nice drop of merlot, and decided to wait another night before doing anything about the situation.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Sylvander
Shipmate
# 12857
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Posted
Er...
Sir van der Hill was not only (perhaps) shady and (perhaps) mysterious. he was also a bit dim and now wondered whether this meant the game had started? Should he start suspecting the Bish of having done in his own housekeeper?
A bit of a shame it would be, he thought. What with all the Tesco pizza he was living on he could have done with a housekeeper and cook himself. If you are tired of yours, he thought, you could pass her on to me instead of pushing her off the plank. Better deal for everybody.
His weak instant coffee was going cold as he thus contemplated the hidden depths of life.
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A martyr is someone living with a saint.
2509
Posts: 1589 | From: Berlin | Registered: Jul 2007
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Rev per Minute
Shipmate
# 69
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Posted
Fr Permin put down the phone and wondered again about his bishop's sobriety and sanity. Bishop Banner was coming for dinner again and he had kept muttering about hard-boiled eggs. Was the Bishop on a new diet? That might explain why at least half the conversation was about housekeepers - the rest was about book-keepers. But as the housekeeper did not seem to have a name, Fr Permin did not think that she was a victim of any dark forces in the town...
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"Allons-y!" "Geronimo!" "Oh, for God's sake!" The Day of the Doctor
At the end of the day, we face our Maker alongside Jesus. RIP ken
Posts: 2696 | From: my desk (if I can find the keyboard under this mess) | Registered: May 2001
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la vie en rouge
Parisienne
# 10688
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Posted
Lucinda was meant to be practising the Rachmaninov sonata but she couldn't concentrate. She wondered if going for a walk would help.
She wandered into town and decided to drop into the Romano pizza restaurant to ask if she could put a poster in the window for her recital. Her fellow musician Patty was there so she ordered an espresso and stayed to chat about Mozart for a while. Shame he never wrote any decent music for the cello.
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Rent my holiday home in the South of France
Posts: 3696 | Registered: Nov 2005
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The Great Gumby
Ship's Brain Surgeon
# 10989
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Posted
Those currently signed up:
§Andrew
Autenrieth Road
Banner Lady
Chelley
Dafyd
davelarge
ephemera
fletcher christian
Hart
jedijudy
lady in red
leonato
Pax Romana
Rev per Minute
Sioni Sais
Smudgie
Stevie Boy Wonder
Sylvander
Teufelchen
Ye Olde Motherboard
You still have a few hours to sign up before I allocate roles. I hope to do that this evening, or failing that tomorrow morning. For the benefit of those who haven't played before, once I close registration, I'll send out your roles by PM and make a public announcement about the potential roles in play, then once everyone's picked up their PMs, I'll start the game.
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The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool. - Richard Feynman
A letter to my son about death
Posts: 5382 | From: Home for shot clergy spouses | Registered: Feb 2006
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Sioni Sais
Shipmate
# 5713
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Posted
TMW3 sat with a doppio for company, perfecting his new signature. What should he use? First and surname (The Welsh), English basic (T. Welsh), American style (The M. Welsh) or that which you see on cricket score cards (T.M.W.W. Welsh).
His coffee was cold. He called for another, with two Ricciarelli.
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"He isn't Doctor Who, he's The Doctor"
(Paul Sinha, BBC)
Posts: 24276 | From: Newport, Wales | Registered: Apr 2004
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The Great Gumby
Ship's Brain Surgeon
# 10989
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Posted
It looks like I won't be able to send out roles until the morning. I hope you can contain yourselves. While you're waiting, I'd be grateful if you could all make sure that your PM boxes aren't full, so that I'm able to pass on vital communications without delay.
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The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool. - Richard Feynman
A letter to my son about death
Posts: 5382 | From: Home for shot clergy spouses | Registered: Feb 2006
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The Great Gumby
Ship's Brain Surgeon
# 10989
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Posted
Registration is now closed. With Gwai's entry, we have 21 players. I'll send out roles shortly.
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The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool. - Richard Feynman
A letter to my son about death
Posts: 5382 | From: Home for shot clergy spouses | Registered: Feb 2006
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The Great Gumby
Ship's Brain Surgeon
# 10989
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Posted
You should now have received your randomly assigned role by PM. If you have any queries, please PM me.
There are 6 possible roles in play. I make no statement about which have been allocated, and in what numbers. The possible roles are:
Citizen - The default role. No special abilities.
Mafioso - The Mafia form a faction which may kill one person per night. They know each other’s identities.
Triad – a rival faction in opposition to the Mafia which may also kill one person per night. They know each other’s identities, but the Mafia and Triads do not know who belongs to the opposing faction.
Detective - A member of the Citizen faction. A Detective may "examine" one person each night, by sending me a PM asking if they are a Mafioso or a Citizen. May or may not be aware of other Detectives if there are any.
Watchman - A member of the Citizen faction. A Watchman may choose to "protect" one other person (i.e. not him/herself) each night, again by sending me a PM. This allows the protected person to survive the night, even if targetted by the Mafia. However, a Watchman can only protect against one wound. If someone is targetted by more than one faction, they will die even if a Watchman is protecting them. May or may not be aware of other Watchmen if there are any.
Vigilante - A member of the Citizen faction. If there is no lynching during the day, a Vigilante may kill one person that night.
I'll allow some time to allow everyone to pick up their PMs and resolve queries before night falls. As I said, please feel free to PM me if you have any queries, especially if asking on this thread might risk revealing your role. In the meantime, take the time to develop your character and explore the delights of Little Florence, as it might be the last chance you get.
(If everyone's agreeable, I'd like to try out a sort of substitution system, so that people who have missed out on the start of the game can step in to replace players who have to withdraw for non-game-related reasons. If there are no objections, I'll spell out how this will work once night has fallen.)
Game on!
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The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool. - Richard Feynman
A letter to my son about death
Posts: 5382 | From: Home for shot clergy spouses | Registered: Feb 2006
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El Greco
Shipmate
# 9313
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Posted
quote:
Originally posted by The Great Gumby:
(If everyone's agreeable, I'd like to try out a sort of substitution system, so that people who have missed out on the start of the game can step in to replace players who have to withdraw for non-game-related reasons.
That's an excellent idea The Great Gumby!
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Ξέρω εγώ κάτι που μπορούσε, Καίσαρ, να σας σώσει.
Posts: 11285 | Registered: Apr 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Bishop Banner woke early, as was his custom; and performed his daily orisons. He wondered if his housekeeper, Bunny Baker, would show up today. If she did not, he feared it was high time he notified the authorities. It was a situation worthy of prayer...and for seeking wisdom. He decided that today he would go to see his recently retired superior, Monsignor Milat, a man of God he much admired.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Imaginary Friend
Real to you
# 186
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Posted
"Come on coffee, work with me" groaned D. Avelarge as he stumbled around the kitchen, trying to prepare himself for the day ahead. The news was full of rumours, gossip, speculation and pure fantasy about the recent death. Suicide? Not likely. Gang turf war? Perhaps. Bad debts? Maybe. There was no strong consensus on why the victim had been left the way that he was, but one thing was certain: The police were clueless, as usual.
But it was Saturday, and that meant the day was to be spent at the Nightingales' office doing the accounts. Boring, but necessary.
"Time to be off", and gulping down the dregs of his americano, Avelarge left the house...
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"We had a good team on paper. Unfortunately, the game was played on grass."
Brian Clough
Posts: 9455 | From: Left a bit... Right a bit... | Registered: May 2001
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Smudgie
Ship's Barnacle
# 2716
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Posted
The Smudge noticed Avelarge as he made his way across the town square but she chose not to make herself known to him but rather to fade into the background, as was her wont.
She had left the pizza restaurant, her coffee as yet unfinished, as the silence of the day had been shattered by the arrival of two prattling musicians. If there was one thing the Smudge preferred, it was to drink her coffee in silence, watching the people as they passed by in the busyness of their lives, oblivious to her very existance. But this duo had been too great a distraction to her meditation, sitting so very close and talking so very passionately about a subject so close to the Smudge's heart, so she had slipped away, unnoticed.
Perhaps a few moments sitting on the bench in the town square would suffice.
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Miss you, Erin.
Posts: 14382 | From: Under the duvet | Registered: Apr 2002
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Sylvander
Shipmate
# 12857
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Posted
"The game's afoot! Upon this charge cry: God for Harry, England and Saint George!"
Sir van der Hill rested his massive volume of the Complete Works on his lap and stared into the fire pensively. These were difficult times and it would be hard for a little town like Little Florida to pick itself up from this economic downturn, especially after this spectacular suicide. Or was it one? The papers did not reveal anything conclusive. Why, with his experience in the war he was not inclined to become unduly worried over the death of a banker whom he had never even met. But still, it was odd...
He decided to have a last dram before retiring. 20 year Lagavulin it would be. The nice thing about living in Little Florence was the price of whisky. The price of everything actually. It was free. Maybe tomorrow he would gift himself a vintage car and a helicopter landing space on the roof ![[Smile]](smile.gif) !
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A martyr is someone living with a saint.
2509
Posts: 1589 | From: Berlin | Registered: Jul 2007
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El Greco
Shipmate
# 9313
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Posted
Dr André just finished seeing his last wealthy patient for today. Now it was time for his pro bono work, for the less fortunate people of Little Florence.
Oh yes, along with the rich and the powerful, there were also some poor souls living in this beautiful town. And Dr André thought they had a right to health care as well.
After having treated countless millionaires (and quite a few billionaires) Dr André wasn't impressed by wealth, fame or power. The poor are to be treated as well, Dr André always said, and with the recent -but unexpected- crisis this meant that the number of the poor in Little Florence was rising.
"C'est la Vie", the doctor was thinking to himself. "C'est la Vie".
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Ξέρω εγώ κάτι που μπορούσε, Καίσαρ, να σας σώσει.
Posts: 11285 | Registered: Apr 2005
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Ye Olde Motherboarde
Ship's Mother and Singing Quilter
# 54
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Posted
Don Carmen decided this new death needed to have someone on the inside, so he asked one of his police informants to give him all the news. But a little knowledge is a dangerous thing sometime.
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In Memory of Miss Molly, TimC, Gambit, KenWritez, koheleth, Leetle Masha, JLG, Genevieve, Erin, RuthW2, deuce2, Sidi and TonyCoxon, unbeliever, Morlader, Ken :tear: 20 years but who’s counting?..................
Posts: 4292 | From: Looking for more trouble to get into | Registered: May 2001
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Teufelchen
Shipmate
# 10158
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Posted
Professor de Ville made his way to the public library, taking care to avoid the district where the creepy barber-shop was. Perhaps a few hours work on Hungarian occultism in the reign of Rudolf II would be enough to take his mind off the bloodthirsty business of the here and now.
T.
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Little devil
Posts: 3894 | From: London area | Registered: Aug 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
On the long drive over to the cathedral parish where Mons. Milat lived, Bishop Banner spent time cogitating on ways to raise money for the diocese, and especially for Little Florence. He decided it was time to appeal to the well-to-do in his area, and to encourage them to engage in the mission of shoring up the church (and his own career). For the good of Little Florence, of course.
Traditionally the church was always the last thing to close in the community, and Bishop Banner was keen not just to maintain standards, but to actually improve the services his church offered in these hard times. Who would be interested in such philanthropic work, he wondered? Certainly Mr.Avelarge, the big-hearted businessman; and Dr.Andrew who gave so generously of his time at the Free Clinic. Perhaps that young man Travis, who had one of the few thriving businesses in town; and it was certainly worth writing to Sir Van der Hill and Miss Smudge. He would also drop a line to Professor Chells, Miss Sal and Miss Austen-Wreath. They might not be willing to be involved, but every donation helped, and they might have other contacts of benefit. He prayed for each of them as he went.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Dafyd
Shipmate
# 5549
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Posted
Dafyd the Post delivered the papers. As he delivered the last paper he wondered idly what he was going to do about the bull terrier fastened to his leg. It appeared to be quite happy there.
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we remain, thanks to original sin, much in love with talking about, rather than with, one another. Rowan Williams
Posts: 10567 | From: Edinburgh | Registered: Feb 2004
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Pax Romana
Shipmate
# 4653
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Posted
As usual, Patty Romano had slept late. Working nights in the restaurant meant keeping late hours altogether. She stumbled out of bed, fed her cat, brewed her special Vietnamese coffee (freshly ground, of course) and sat down at the kitchen table, where she had placed all of her tax documents. She knew that she had better file her tax return this year or else! Her accountant, Mr. Avelarge, would be waiting for her at 2:00 this afternoon and she wanted to have everything ready for him.
Pax Romana
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I used to wake up at 4 A.M. and start sneezing, sometimes for five hours. I tried to find out what sort of allergy I had but finally came to the conclusion that it must be an allergy to consciousness.
James Thurber
Posts: 4598 | From: New York City | Registered: Jun 2003
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Imaginary Friend
Real to you
# 186
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Posted
Avelarge left the Nightingales' offices at 1350 in a bit of a rush. He was late and frustrated that the team's accounts had taken so long. But then, how do you plan for a sudden downturn in cash flow and rise in costs?
Getting behind the wheel of his '64 Mustang, he left a cloud of dust behind him in the parking lot...
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"We had a good team on paper. Unfortunately, the game was played on grass."
Brian Clough
Posts: 9455 | From: Left a bit... Right a bit... | Registered: May 2001
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Posted
A laid-linen white-wove deckle-edged bishop-sealed envelope! Lying elegantly on the mat! Hmmmm! Presumably the bishop's housekeeper had dropped it by? Jane (JAW to her friends) couldn't imagine Bishop Banner stooping to drop letters through letterslots.
But where, oh where, was her letter-opener? Such a grand envelope shouldn't be ripped open in the usual way.
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Rev per Minute
Shipmate
# 69
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Posted
Rev'd Permin locked up the church after Morning Prayer and returned to the vicarage. The Bishop always seemed to be out and about, and his lunch with His Grace had given him the impression that Little Florence was high on the episcopal hitlist. While Rev'd Permin welcomed extra investment in his parish (and had a couple of quiet schemes of his own to raise funds), to have the Bishop's size 10s blundering through the accounts and asking people for money might be... unfortunate.
With a sigh, Rev'd Permin made himself a cup of tea ('Earl Grey, hot,' as he told the kettle every day) and sat down to think about and pray for his flock. So many were worried about money, and the Italians (some of whom came to his church because his sermons were shorter than those in the Catholic Church) looked as though they were about to have more arguments between the 'families' in Little Little Florence. He prayed for a quiet time in the town - but at the back of his mind, Rev'd Permin felt that this was the last thing they were likely to get.
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"Allons-y!" "Geronimo!" "Oh, for God's sake!" The Day of the Doctor
At the end of the day, we face our Maker alongside Jesus. RIP ken
Posts: 2696 | From: my desk (if I can find the keyboard under this mess) | Registered: May 2001
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Smudgie
Ship's Barnacle
# 2716
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Posted
The Smudge smiled to herself as she watched the vicar scurry across the town square from the church to the vicarage at the end of morning prayer, puzzled expression on his face. It didn't take much thinking to realise that he was wondering about the whereabouts of the Bishop and the impact of the increasing poverty in the town upon his little congregation.
Perhaps the vicar thought that trouble could be staved off with his prayers. It must be nice to have that kind of faith, she thought, as she bent to stroke the cat at her feet, and drifted softly away to her shadowy home.
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Miss you, Erin.
Posts: 14382 | From: Under the duvet | Registered: Apr 2002
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Bishop Banner was startled. He had arrived home from a Most Helpful meeting with Monsignor Milat to find afternoon tea laid out, as per usual, in his study. The housekeeper, Bunny Baker, had appeared like an apparition to ask if he wanted lemon, cream or whiskey in his tea.
"Is everything all right, Bishop?" she enquired.
"My dear woman, where have you been these last few days? I was exceedingly worried on your behalf!" exclaimed Bp Banner.
Bunny Baker tut-tutted and asked him if he ever bothered to read the mail on his desk. She assured him she had left a note a week ago explaining her necessary absence for a few days.
Bp Banner spluttered that he most certainly DID read his mail. [In fact, since a little incident in his previous diocese where he had overlooked a few fatal details in the corresponence and accounts of the youth department, he had become extremely pedantic in his oversight of such things].
"Bunny; I did not receive any such letter," he reiterated. "Are you absolutely certain you notified me? It's not like your supposed ordering for the catering of the last synod dinner is it?"
Bunny paled at the recollection and stammered she would check her handbag. She returned several minutes later, sheepishly holding a crumpled letter.
Bishop Banner sighed, and, though his insides were rather riled, he smiled. "Never mind, Bunny. All's well that ends well. And I am very glad that you are back safe."
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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leonato
Shipmate
# 5124
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Posted
Almost time for the lunchtime rush thought Salvatore. He wondered if he'd get more than 5 customers today. He could do with the extra cash, but doesn't want to be rushed off his feet.
The rumours about the presence of Mafia in the town worried him. How could he stay on their good side. We're there any pizza toppings they particularly like? Siciliana perhaps? He knew he had some Sicilian delicacies from home in the back of the store cupboard. But what if they were Neapolitan mafia? They might have me shot just for offering Sicilian olives. What to do?
He hurriedly chopped some mushrooms, and, not taking care, sliced his finger open. He hurried into the back room to find a plaster.
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leonato... Much Ado
Posts: 892 | From: Stage left | Registered: Oct 2003
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Gwai
Shipmate
# 11076
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Posted
Miss Sal stepped off the sidewalk as yet another fool on a skateboard zoomed by. Considering how far manners had fallen, was it any surprise that the economy was such a trouble? Still, all these deaths seemed a bit much.
Ah well, either way there were so many more important things to worry about. For instance, Bishop Banners pants were definitely wrinkled yesterday. Was he getting up to some hanky-panky or was his housekeeper just missing again?
Miss Sal paused a moment in her reflections to smile at the postman. "Well hello there, dear!" Anyway, what on earth was with that dog? Probably best not to ask. Wouldn't want to intrude. And, oh my! Look at that smudgie lady over there. Positively dull and probably quite sketchy. Yes, this side of town was definitely becoming run down. Miss Sal made a note to talk to the reverend about this. Surely the church should do something about such people. Perhaps clean them up so that they don't wander around and lower the standards.
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A master of men was the Goodly Fere,
A mate of the wind and sea.
If they think they ha’ slain our Goodly Fere
They are fools eternally.
Posts: 11914 | From: Chicago | Registered: Feb 2006
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