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Cafe: The Harlequin/ 8:00am Monday/ attn: everyone [16 Oct 2003|05:05pm]

Luca entered the empty cafe with a frown, worn proud and with ultimate concentration. Brow wrinkled in a furious attempt to show professional self-control and a hard front, untouchable aura. New staff, such a pain. She sighed, picking up the latest edition of The Vodeville Gazette, flipping through the pages, nervously chewing her lower lip. At 6am, sharp, three figures appeared shaking her out of her daydreams and the notes in neat handwriting on a Harlequin napkin. Dropping the pen, she moved to open the door, keys jingling. Ushering them into the warmth and out of the thick morning mist, she closed the door with an audible click.

"Welcome to the Harlequin." She turned, facing the strangers. "I'm the boss here, what I say is the law. Three rules. Be polite, quick and friendly." Hearing muffled chortles, she raised an eyebrow.

"Care to share?" Standing tall in front of the much bigger man, mouse and cat. He gave her an amused glance from head to toe, judging, measuring.
"Erwin here, and I--- we'd rather wait for Mr. Luca Flick."
"Gents." Luca addressed the two trouble-stirrers. "I am Mr. Luca Flick. Problems with that?"
"Sorry little lady, but we ain't take orders from a gal."

"I strongly recommend you change your point of view, Mr. Holland! Let's see if it's as hilarious on the outside of the building." She straightened the girl's clothes, voice calm and composed, with a devilish smile gracing her features. The smirk faded into an icy cold stare. "Fired. Out."
Holland gasped, opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish on dry land.
"Yer goin' to regret this, lady." They left without further threats.

"Poor thing, you are frozen." Leading the girl to the table, an arm wrapped around the petit thing's waist. "Have some warm coffee and cake." Luca smiled sincerely at the honey haired angel. "Our clientele--- dancers, musicians, performers. Never ever fall for an artist, bella. They are the devil." Smirking she settled down with pen and paper, for the hours to come and the mental note to hire more staff later.
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I promised the bride to be... [17 Sep 2003|03:54pm]

So here I Be(be).

With all the instincts
Of a buzzing fruit fly,
It's sweetness and sugar
That catches the eye.

Not poetry and prose,
Though, there's room for those.

Some say summer fruits
Are sweetest to the tongue.
The hold so much promise,
When the season is young.

Then there's the honey,
But they don't always have money.

Now, the winter fruit,
My, how it entices
Beneath its tough skin
Rest aromatic spices.

I shall take a bit of each,
Please excuse my reach.

The juice ferments,
I become drunk on your love.
It pierces my thoughts,
Like a bolt from above.


Please don't throw things at me.
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Poetry wall [12 Sep 2003|07:19pm]

I'd like to point out our first contribution for your reading pleasure:

Morning glory's "Aesthetic Experimental"
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Poetry wall [10 Sep 2003|07:56pm]

From me for you

Exists, in mist, the amethyst.
Catharsis in stasis,
All biased is,
what love kissed.

Of night's wings in tight strings
Of splints in fingerprints
Of eyes crying lies
Of bugs in hugs

Of course, if you persist
you will be missed
for your fists can't resist
to be kissed, catalyst.

Now, lovelies, don't be shy. Not a single one of you can be worse than Luca.
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Evening lovelies. [07 Sep 2003|04:29pm]

The Harlequin is looking for poets and aspiring writers to fill its hollow silence with gleeful laughter and sombre mirrors in reflection.

For the less brave dolls and gentlemen a poetry wall is waiting to be covered with your work. Too bad, we'd love to hear the words pouring like honey from your mouth.
The courageous ones, we dare you to apply and read to us. I can't promise you fame, wealth and power but coffee and eclairs are on me.

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[05 Sep 2003|12:46am]

Welcome to The Harlequin.
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