|The Transformation Story Archive||The Blind Pig|
Donnie's ground rules
I came in to the Blind Pig about 9 p.m. on Friday. Good crowd. Usually is on Friday nights. The bar has been getting a little raucous lately. The city's become more known nationally as a haven for SCABS. That may change if that little snot Barnes gets elected mayor in November.
Can you imagine him getting off for the murder of that SCABS prostitute? An acquittal. Can you believe it! An all Normal jury lets him go after less than an hour of deliberation. Now the little creep is running as a martyr candidate for mayor to save the normals from the scourge of the SCABS infestation. And the polls say he's ahead.
Give me a break!
This town has one of the nation's largest SCABS population, yet we're less than 6 percent of the total city population -- and his campaign is running ads about how we're lurking around every corner waiting to commit a crime or infect normals everywhere with the dreaded SCABS virus. He stands there dressed as a little boy (They may have robbed me of my manhood, but not my pride!) giving speeches standing on a little step ladder -- dutiful wife and children (I may be older than my Daddy now, but he's still the biggest man in my life.) standing behind him.
It almost makes me wish now that who ever did it to him hadn't, or if they did, finished the job.
Dr. Bob has been on very television and radio station in the city explaining, re-explaining and taking calls from people reassuring them that you can't catch SCABS through casual contact. That it's already present in 87 percent of the general population.
Dr. Bob has been on very television and radio station in the city explaining, re-explaining and taking calls from people reassuring them that you can't catch SCABS through casual contact, that the Martian flu is already present in 87 percent of the population, and that if you haven't developed SCABS within six months of your bout, you probably won't.
Still, too many people -- Normals -- are scared. And Snot Barnes plays right up to it.
Even though Dr. Bob no longer works at the CDC in Atlanta, he's still well-known and respected there. He had a bunch of his normal buddies fly in and speak to church and civic groups, but the atmosphere is still pretty tense throughout the city, and November's a long way off.
I was engaged in meaningful conversation with Lois Underwood, the reporter, which is a nice way of saying we were about one minute from going at each other's throats, when Donnie came over and very loudly set two beers down in front of us. The argument is over, or at least, we took it down a few notches. I mean, who argues with a bartender that weighs 640 pounds and has the head of an Auroch.
While Lisa and I stare at him sheepishly, he us a both a leaflet. In fact, he's passing out leaflets to everyone, I wonder what that's about?
Patrons & Employees of the Blind Pig Gin Mill
Point =1 -- The owner and manager respects the rights and privacy of everyone that enters this establishment regardless of race, religion, creed, national origin, normal or SCABS.
Point =2 -- This establishment is my livelihood and my sole source of support.
Point =3 -- My eldest daughter is coming to live with me while attending college and will be working part-time in the kitchen.
THEREFORE I have established these 10 Commandments. I suggest you read them, learn them, live them.
=1 -- Thou shalt not engage in rude, obnoxious, and cruel behavior within this bar. See also Point =3.
=2 -- Thou shalt wear clothes. This is not a clothing optional bar -- from now on ALL Lupine boys wear pants PERIOD! See also Point =3.
=3 -- Thou shalt not sleep under the pool table drunk or sober -- you have a home, DeMule use it. See also Point =3.
=4 -- Thy mammaries shall not have their own zip code. All female gendermorphs, employees or patrons, are asked to keep their "appendages" within a reasonable size. Do what you want away from the bar, but I've lost my last glass because someone turned to quickly and she knocked it off the bar. See also Point =3. The same goes for male genda-morphs and their "appendages. See ESPECIALLY Point =3.
=5 -- Thou shalt treat the bar's rest rooms as safe havens. No more inanimorph shenanigans in the ladies room. See also Point =3.
=6 -- Thou shall not engage in solicitous behavior within these walls. You don't buy or sell ANYTHING in this bar: guns, drugs, yourself or anything else in my bar. If I suspect you, you're gone! If I catch you, you will be personally escorted through the nearest door. And I MEAN through the door. See also Point =3.
=7 -- Thou shalt treat this bar as you would your home. A lot of the bar's property is being damaged unnecessarily, and in some cases, willfully. I will take steps against those responsible, if necessary.
=8 -- Thou shall not engage in territorial marking behaviors. I understand and sympathize with people's needs to get in touch with their inner-animal selves, but I'M the one who has to mop floors and scrub walls. By the way, the next joker who scent marks a heating duct will clean it with his tongue. Understood?
=9 --Thou shalt try to respect the opinions and beliefs of others -- even those with whom you do not agree with.
=10 -- Thou shalt be entitled to as good a time as possible when you are within these walls. For almost all of you are my friends as well as my patrons. I will do my best to provide you with a safe and pleasant atmosphere in which to come together not as SCABS and norms, but simply as fellow human beings.
Donnie makes it a point that everyone in and out of the bar gets a leaflet. I can live with these rules, I suspect most of us can. Besides, who argues with a 640 pound man who can literally be called bullheaded.
Donnie's ground rules copyright 1997 by Mark van Sciver.
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