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The Snowflake Lounge Started by: Duggee on Jul 14, '20 00:04

Business was looking up. After the success of his Squirrel club in Chicago Duggee had decided to expand into Detroit. If he were an honest man, he should probably send some money on to the gentleman he had stolen the idea from, but he wasn't an honest man, he was a Mobster, and what certain people didn't know, Duggee was not going to tell them. It had taken many calls and a lot of string pulling at city hall to get the materials needed and the planning permits in order, but now the club could open. 

It had a strict no weapons policy, you could check your weapons at the door, or leave them at home, but if you were caught with a weapon then you would be quickly ejected, and possibly not breathing. The interior was padded, every wall, all the hard surfaces, and the corners of the tables and counters had been rounded. The floor was heavily carpeted in case you tripped and fell. No alcohol was sold, and no caffeine, only non carbonated lemonade and milk, served in a polyethylene 'sippy' cup to avoid breakages and spillages. 

Music was soft jazz, easy listening and pan pipes, this would be a safe place without loud noises and raucous dancing, so as not to trigger anyone. There was plenty of soft, recycled paper available, with torn edges to prevent paper cuts, and crayons behind the bar, this would help support artistic expression, and give an outlet to those with psychological trauma, there were also several copies of Dixit, Tokaido, Race for the Galaxy, St Petersburg and Acquire to play, all thoroughly non-confrontational games. 

You were also not allowed to raise your voice, argue or discuss religion, race, politics or sexuality, again anyone breaking the rule would be quickly ejected. 

Satisfied that he had created the ultimate safe space, that was not too hot and not too cold, and not too humid Duggee prepared to welcome customers to the country's only safe space.

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Duggee had just finished sowing his latest badge onto his Squirrels Leaders uniform. Looking around he was upset to see that no delicate flowers had come to take advantage of what his unique club had to offer, but then there were two possible reasons for this. The first was that it was too bright. Duggee wouldn't call the lighting harsh, but those of a delicate disposition might. The second was that the club hadn't been open 10 minutes yet and word obviously hadn't spread across the 6 cities, snowflakes probably didn't communicate much in case they upset someone or someone upset them. Therefore the logical solution was that the lighting wasn't right. Going behind the bar, he turned off about 1/3 of the overhead lights, making the place a lot more appealing to those of a dismal disposition, particularly those who wanted to cry into their bowl of soft pretzels and cup of non carbonated lemonade. 

He also took the opportunity to check that his supply of herbal teas were ready, in case Madhatter showed up. No doubt Curtis would be a regular, Duggee suspected he regularly cried himself to sleep at night after hearing all the nasty things people had to say about him, possibly also Grin-08, he seemed such a kind hearted lad, unlike his father. One man who would definitely never come to the Snowflake Lounge was Alan, he was just an evil cunt, and delighted in sending out short dated merchandise and deliberately 'swapping' peoples items on their grocery labels for cheaper own brand products.

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This was the issue with opening a business quickly, some things didn't get completed on time, it was why there were teams of plumbers currently working in the bathroom installing washletts in the toilets. It wasn't strickly essential, but Duggee was sure that there were snowflakes out there who were triggered by the thought of wiping their own ass, and installing washletts was far more sensible than employing people to wipe his customer's asses for them, besides, there were probably people who would be triggered by the thoughts of someone wiping their ass. Perhaps now these were installed, that snowflake SammyNoShoes would come for a drink, after all the deep pile carpet would feel good on his bare feet.

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Hearing that a new place in town was having washlets installed SammyNoShoes wasted no time in heading straight for the delightfully named Snowflake lounge. Upon entering he shouted a quick 'woof' to Duggee and before he could even be offered a drink he ran straight into the newly installed sparkling toilets. 

 

Getting himself comfortable he looked on in amazement at the control panel. Butt wash, balls wash (or was that for the ladies?), rotating butt wash, heated seat, power up, angle changer and music incase you were such a snowflake you didn't want anyone to know you were unleashing hell on earth. 

 

Settling for a medium strength rotating butt wash the night was starting out well. Perhaps he'd even leave for a drink in the bar at some point. But not yet. Certainly not yet. 

 

Duggee deserves his excellent toilet choice badge he mummered as he decided to turn on the music

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Duggee was surprised that the Snowflake lounge hadn't been busier. There had been a plethora of Snowflakes the last time he had look. A virtual cornucopia of the needy. A regular superfluity of the butt hurt. Not to mention a glut, profusion and deluge of genuine gurney bitches. But things seemed quieter now, there wasn't so much angst on the streets, and whilst there were still the cowardly cock wombles hiding in the shadows and posting hits on people for no reasonable reason other than they can't have their own way, life had more or less returned to normal. He doubted that the cock wombles would come to the lounge, after all, they preferred to hide in the shadows and spout ill written nonsense that they thought made them look intellectual but actually made them look like Forrest Gump's less intelligent cousin. 

Part of him thought that perhaps he should close the Snowflake Lounge, but at the same time, part of him thought that perhaps there may be a need for it in the future. You never knew when there would be an other epidemic of butthurt to plague the streets.

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Gimpanzee was doing his rounds with a belly full of whiskey and some syrup on his mind..

I hope life in your new abode over there in 12th Street is serving you well Duggee!

Gimpanzee knew it'd be a real catastrophe if the doors were closed here -  After all, the snowflakes and fragile egos were still in abundance around these cities and they would need somewhere to find solace since sometimes all it takes is a little bit of the right ambience and a couple of products from the Tesco's Finest range to make everything alright

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Tristan walked into the Snowflake Lounge looking to relax while in the motor city.  He had a blonde on his arm she was a young actress that he was managing.  He loved telling everyone to watch out for her on the silver screen.  He called her Ginger Rogers it was catchy name.   They sat at a table as she drank a martini and he had a brandy on the rocks.  They enjoyed the jazz and the environment.  

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Duggee was please to see more folks in the Snowflake lounge, even if one of them was Gimpanzee. This was a safe space though, so there would be know judgement from Duggee. He was especially amused to see Tristan and his 'friend' drinking a lemonade and a milk as if they were a martini and brandy. Just as well he didnt sell hard liquor, what kind of phillistein would put ice in cognac? That would be like smoking a joint at an avid house race... what ever that was.

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Even the most daring of mobsters sometimes need a safe haven to rest their weary head, Gimpanzee thought to himself

"I'm not quite sure about that lemonade & milk combo though - that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen and my diet is already bad enough!"

Gimpanzee had heard Duggee celebrated a birthday recently.  He wasn't sure if he held a function in here for it, but hoped that he 
had a great, violent-free time and that there were no pointed partyhats involved!

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Duggee shakes his head sadly, there was only so much you could do to help people too stupid to help themselves.

Gimpanzee, is Milk or Lemonade, not both mixed, that would probably make people sick, and the retching and vomiting would no doubt trigger some people with eating disorders. 

Duggee shuddered at the thought, he then shuddered again when he remembered he had said avid house race to himself instead of acid house rave, which he was sure would make far more sense in 50 years time. Shuddering again Duggee decided to change the topic.

Are you hungry? Would you like a nice Spaghetti Toastie? I wonder if SammyNoShoes has finished with the washlett yet? Possibly not, he's only been in there for 6 weeks, I think he lives there now.

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Gimpanzee could sniff out a snack miles away

I'm always hungry so I would very much like that Spaghetti Toastie you have kindly offered up.  Never had such a concoction before so it can only be a thing of greatness. I may need something to wash it down with though.. Preferably not something that induces vomiting of course!

 

He hadn't checked out the new sparkling toilets yet but he felt it was only right to give SammyNoShoes the privacy he clearly needs

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Madhatter was standing infront of the Snowflake Lounge, it was a strange kind of bar. It reminded him of a Mental hospital. Madhatter could talk about Mental hospitals, he had just been on a trip past the biggest ones known by men.  But this one looked a bit different. 

He looked at the sign out front: No booze, no weapons. 

"And no fun" Madhatter thought, but seeing Duggee was the boss of this place and ofcourse the boss of Madhatter he walked in. 

We walked in and heard the music :  soft jazz, easy listening and pan pipes. He knew these songs. This was the same music he always heard when he went to the sauna. So Madhatter  walked towards a nice table and started to take of his shirt. When he started to take of his pants he looked around the place. 

It seemed that everyone was still wearing there shirts and pants. Seems that this wasn't a sauna, so Madhatter closed his pants and took a a walk to the bar. 

"Do you have tea, or something strong ? some booze behind the counter ? "

As he asked this he got a chill over his body, maybe it's a little bit to cold to walk without a shirt.

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The server behind the counter, for that was what he was, a non gender specific title of someone who's job was to serve those in need of service. He stood behind a counter because to call it a bar would suggest the purveyance of alcohol which they certainly didn't do. The man in the strange hat certainly didnt look like he belonged here, he was certainly too happy, and people who needed the safe space of the Snowflake lounge generally weren't happy.

"I'm sorry, we don't sell Alcohol. Alcohol is a depressant, and the lass things our patrons need is to feel depressed. Likewise we do not serve tea. Tea is a hot beverage, served at around 94°C, and could scald someone, or be used to scald someone. We do have some nice non sparkling Lemonade and we aldo have some Milk both of which we serve slightly chilled. I'll let you make your decision whilst i serve Mr. @Gimpanze his Spaghetti Toastie."

The server put down his glass cloth and put on a pair of disposable laytex gloves before going into the kitchen.

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Madhatter walked up to the Snowflake lounge, this place looked very familiar. But he couldn't remember it. Was this a nice place or was this a wrong place. Madhatter knew wrong places, he had been in those places to many time. 

those places where made to lockup crazy people, Madhatter wasn't crazy but people thought he was. Those places where all "safe" and looked like nice places to stay. Madhatter noticed that this place looked like one of those places. Nice tempature, no booze, no loud noises. This was one of those Wrong places he knew. He had to get out of here and run, if they hadn't locked the door already. Just as he was running out of the door he noticed a sign that stopped him in his tracks. 

In memory of Duggee, and the Sticky song 

He knew that name, was it a friend or an enemy ? I seemed like he liked this person so he walked out of the door , I will miss you Sticky you where a good guy. 

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