Where does me time go? Look at this it's the middle of summer aarrgghghh!!!

AARRGGHGHH!!!

SO’S A HOMELESS GUY, DOWN ON HIS LUCK, SIDLES UP TO WENCH ADRIAN AT THE BAR LAST WEEK. REACHES INTO HIS POCKET AND PLOPS DOWN A SMALL PACKAGE ON THE BAR. HELL’S BELLS IF IT AINT A TINY KITTEN NO MORE’N A FEW WEEKS OLD. SAYS HE, “ TRADE THIS FOR A PABST BLUE RIBBON ??” YOUNG ADRIAN, ANIMAL LOVER TO THE CORE, CLOSES THE DEAL IN A NEW YORK SECOND. NAME OF THE KITTEN—PBR.

EVER SEE THAT AT ONE OF THEM DAMN FRU-FRU BARS?


NEXT:

EHAB WANTS TO THANK THE STAFF AT TBT FOR PLACING THE GROTTO AT #12 AMONG THE AREAS 100 BEST BARS. FURTHER, WELL, …….THEN THERES…… OH HELL’S BELLS HE DOES!!#2%^! IN A PIG’S WHISTLE DOES EHAB ACCEPT THAT NONSENSE- NO SIREE BOB!!@!!##. WHAT A BUNCH OF DAMN POLITICAL HORSE PUCKEY. THOSE SCALLYWAGS AND SEAHAGS, WRITING FOR THAT FISHWRAP, SELLIN THAT THERE’S 11 BETTER BARS IN THIS AREA THAN THE GROTTO. CRAP WE SAY—CRAP.

WHY FOR THE LOVE OF PETE AND ALL THE UNHOLY ANGELS GUARDING NEPTUNE’S SOUL, ANY IDIOT, IMBICILE OR MORON KNOWS THERE AIN’T 11 BETTER BARS ON THE WHOLE, STINKING, PLANET!~!!@!!!

AT LEAST MANY OF THE FRU-FRU JOINTS WERE CORRECTLY PLACED, YOU KNOW, AT THE MALL! MEANS THAT THE WRITERS WEREN’T SMOKING SOMETHIN’ OR OVERIMBIBED THE GROG AT LEAST!!.

ANYWAYS, WE’DE LIKE TO THANK THE ACADEMY, OUR AGENT, MORTY SCHMECKLESTEIN, WE LOVE YOU MORTY, OUR MOTHERS AND MOST OF ALL OUR WIVES…….. BLAH, BLAH, BLAH

THEN THERE’S THIS:

THE WAY WE HEARS IT, OLD BOSCO COMES DOWN STAIRS FROM THE OFFICE, IN DISTRESS, TOWING AN OBVIOUSLY BEAT UP AND BLEEDING GUS THE GREYHOUND. GUS WAS SPLATTERED WITH EXCREMENT AND BLOOD AND SHIVERING LIKE, WELL, FOR LACK OF AN EQUALLY DESCRIPTIVE YET LESS OFFENSIVE PHRASE, A DOG SH---NG A RAZOR BLADE.


OLD EHAB AND THE INCREDIBLE PIRATE CHEF J.P. HAD HAD THEIR HEADS TOGETHER AT THE TIME PLOTTING STRATEGY FOR THE NEW KITCHEN LAUNCH AND ALL THAT ENTAILS. BUT BEING A MAJOR DOG LOVER HERSELF CHEF J.P GOT UPSET AT THE LOOK OF GUSSY. IT MAY ALSO HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE SMELL OF GUSSY. OLD EHAB REMEBERED WAKING UP ON THE FLOOR OF THE BASTILLE SUBWAY STATION’S LOWER BATHROOM IN PARIS IN 1982, THE MIDGET SITTING ON THE SINK SMOKING A GALOISE AND THE TRANSVESTITE WITH THE ½ EATEN JAR OF PICKLED PIG’S FEET HUMMING ‘LA MARSEILLE’ THROUGH HER CHEWING GUM,……THE WAY THE SMOKE CURLED AS IT ROSE—WELL THAT’S ANOTHER STORY ALTOGETHER.

UPON INSPECTION OLD GUSSY WAS MISSING MOST OF THE BLACK SKIN ON HIS NOSE, WHICH WAS ALSO SHOWING DEEP,BLOODY, GOUGES AND OTHER ABRAISIONS AND CONTUSIONS. LOOKED LIKE HE’D FALLEN INTO A BUZZ SAW, WHICH ESSENTIALY, HE HAD.

ANYWAY, BOSCO TOLD EHAB THAT HE BETTER GET UPSTAIRS BECAUSE
TANK AND GUS HAD HAD A NASTY TUSSLE. WELL, EVEN THOUGH GUS OUTWEIGHS THE TANK SIXFOLD, IS ALL MUSCLES, SINEWS AND TEETH, AND HAS A BODY FAT RATIO OF 0.0, IT AIN’T FOR NOTHING THAT THEY CALL THE TANK “ THE MEANEST 12 POUNDS ON THE PLANET”. EHAB WAS THANKING THE LORD GUS STILL HAD HIS EYES INTACT. TANK WILL USUALLY GO DIRECTLY FOR THE EYES. FINDS IT’S THE QUICKEST WAY TO TAKE DOWN A HEAVYWEIGHT.


WHEN EHAB GOT TO THE OFFICE THE TANK WAS SITTING ON THE DESK LICKING HIMSELF. NOT A MARK ON HIM. HE STOPPED, HE LOOKED UP, GAVE EHAB THE “ YEAH, SO WHAT A-HOLE, AND I’LL DO IT AGAIN IF YOU BRING THAT BIG LUG BACK UP HERE TOO” LOOK. TANK WENT BACK TO PICKING PIECES OF DOG NOSE AND SUCH OUT OF HIS CLAWS.

THE OFFICE SMELLED LIKE, WELL, YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW. LITERALLY, TANK HAD BEATEN THE S—T. OUT OF THE POOR CANINE. THE CARPET WAS COVERED IN BLOOD AND DOG EXCREMENT. IT TOOK EHAB AN HOUR WITH GLOVES, RAGS, BUCKETS, HOT WATER, DETERGENT AND BLEACH TO MAKE THE PLACE HABITABLE.

ALL THAT TIME TANK SAT PRIMLY ON THE DESKTOP, LICKING HIS COAT AND WATCHING EHAB CLEAN UP HIS MESS. 15 SECOND TUSSLE, 1 HOUR CLEANUP.


THE POINT OF THIS, WELL, TRUTH BE TOLD, THERE AIN’T NO POINT, FESTER. JEST FIGURED THAT FRIENDS OF THE TANK WOULD WANT TO KNOW THAT HE AINT CHANGED A SINGLE DAMNNED BIT GOING INTO MIDDLE CAT AGE.

AARRGGHH!!!
EHAB’S FAITHFULL SCRIBE

Tanker Ray Takes Down The Cook

So the Captain is a’ sitin the last booth across from this young lad wearin a Mohawk hairdo. The lad is interviewing for a cook’s job. Tanker Ray, barcat extraordinaire and mouse ace nonparallel is sitting on the ledge over the booth, just listening, while cleaning the claws on his oversized right front paw the way even mortal felines do.

“ Naw, I don’t like cats much” the youth says, ” No reason really, just don’t like ‘em much”, looking straight at the Tank.

Normally, that would have been the end of the interview but the galley was really shorthanded following the little fracas of Saturday Night…. But that’s another story altogether. Anyways, Tanks right ear vibrated too and fro a number of times and he cast a sideways glance at the new cook.

Ehab smiled at the new cook as he welcomed him aboard.

Next day about 10:00AM the new cook is getting the lay of the land and is walking around the closed bar.

Ehab is attending to something on the back bars stored in the corner and the Tank, Lord knows how he got up there, is patrolling the top of the bar soffett some 10 feet above the bar room floor. Well, it’s plain to see, the way Ehab tells it, that ‘Ol Tank was slinking around the bar soffett directly above the new cook. Darned if he wasn’t stalking him!
Ehab put down the bottle he was examining, leaned on his elbow and silently watched.
It wasn’t too much longer when the cook, and then the Tank, stopped. Tank’s striped tail began to vibrate and his back quivered His ears laid flat against his head and he coiled like a steel spring.

Ehab, wanting to yell, remained silent as the Tank uncoiled and became airborne.

All Ehab said he could think about was Rocket J. Squirrel, a distant, timeworn memory from his badly misspent youth.

Well the Tank landed on the cooks head from behind with a spread of 4 paws worth of claws and those really pointy front teeth, which latched on to the bridge of the poor man’s nose from above.

The cat yowl Tank let out sounded a lot like BANZAI to Ehab. Certainly, it meant the same thing.

“AAHHRRHHRRAAAA!!!” screamed the cook as he began to rotate faster than the big bronze propeller on the old Newark making turns for full ahead, with a double jingle of the telegraph to boot! AHHH, AHHH, NO, AHHH!!!! he screamed hysterically, knocking over bar stools, as the Tank hung on like a bull rider trying to get in all 8 seconds before the clowns come out, eyes wide and grinning like a sea banshee, we hear the Tank was.. Old man swears the Tank was beating the back of the cook’s neck with his tail in an effort to get him to spin faster.
After Tank dismounted and scurried off to one of his rabbit warren of tunnels the cook sagged against a booth as he assessed the damage and counted the punctures.

As the cook, and then the Tank hisself, heard from Ehab that day, “ Well, at least now he got a reason not to like cats”.

Sunday’s at 11:30 on the patio all you scallywags and seahags is the champagne brunch.
Make your own mimosas and Bloody Marys, drink a lot, eat from the buffet, Have Chef Fred turn out something delectable from the galley. try something from the raw bar and listen to Live Jazz and Island music in the fresh air. Chill there bucko’s and try the least stuffy, most fun brunch in town and if you likes, play a game of champagne pong. It’s all one price . Can’t do that at any of those damn fru fru brunches now can you mates?


AARRGGHH!The Captains faithful scribe

Tanker Ray "The Bar Cat" takes a walk

AARRGGHH!!!It was a rough Friday, it was. Tanker Ray the BarCat was gone. Not hide nor hair of the beast could be found. Gone.Ehab, crazy as an outhouse rat on a good day, spent 34 of 36 hours crawling under houses on 4th and 5th Avenue looking for the Cat in the rain and darkness. It was a sad sight to see the old man forlornly making rounds of the surrounding blocks with his flashlight looking under bushes and behind trash cans.Anybody who ever lost a pet can feel for the old man. It was grisly. It was quiet at the Grotto without the Tank raising hell. The old man just kept putting one foot in front of the other, going through the motions.Well, about 40 hours into the ordeal Eddie, the cleaning guy, tells Ehab that Carmine's bunch across the street has the cat!Sure enough, three bouncers from Carmine's patio are hanging on to the Tank and he's kicking and biting and scratching. If he could talk he would have said, " Put me down you big dopes or I'll murderize the whole bunch of youse"!!The old man paid a substantial reward and reclaimed his pal, trying not to squeeze him too hard.Seems that the bouncers had found the Tank on Carmine's upstairs balcony, Recognizing him for the "crazy cat that climbs the palm trees" the guys locked him up over night so he wouldn't escape or get hit by a car.All's well that ends well. Tanks a little embarrassed and although greatly conflicted, the old man is clearly relieved,So after Tanker's big adventure the old man was directed to a web site called www.flippyscatpage.com. Come to find out that under famous felines' the big Tank, Gaspar’s Grotto very own Barcat Extraordinaire, now occupies the top spot, moving Garfield into 2nd place and Felix the Cat into a distant 5th. Go figure! Got to make sure the Tank don't let it go to his headLast week the Old Man went to visit his mother up at the Alzheimers place. Took the Tank with him and the whelps too. Tank likes to socialize with the old folks and they like him too. On this day, the nurse says to the middle whelp that Tank might like the resident cat, ARDEN, a very young and amenable tuxedo. Ehab says that he doesn't think that's a good idea but before he can protest further, in comes the girl holding ARDEN. Well, all hell ain't broken loose like that since the French Navy took over John Bull's that Pireaus summer back in '72. The Tank is all over the poor kitty and anybody in between is getting scratched, bitten and perforated. Arden runs to save himself like there ain't no tomorrow ( there ain’t). Tank's in close pursuit going 100 MPH with his fur on fire and towing his leash. Down the long hall, screaming like banshees where, at the end, they re-engage and roll around like a furry ball of electricity, claws and noise. Arden escapes again and comes back up the corridor, making all possible speed. All Ehab can imagine is that loose leash wrapping around the ankle of a senior......... As the Tank goes by Ehab steps hard on his leash and the marauding Kitty Cat snaps to a stop. Ever see a cat had the wind knocked out of him? Arden's hiding under one of the old folks chairs. But Tank’s not finished and starts to howl. He want's more. Ehab's had enough though and drags the cat out to the car where he remains for the rest of the visit. Poor Arden, enjoying a peaceful Sunday at home with the old folks when Ghengis Khan rides in leading the Mongol Hordes........Back at the Grotto things are getting crazy. Our Pirate ladies are charming the gentlemen at a steadily increasing rate and the gentlemen are loathe to even go home. Deliveries are up. business is up and, my goodness, even old Ehab's spirits are up. The Gaspar's Grotto house flags are selling fast, (get your's today). Been playing more Rock & Roll these days and the crowds are liking it. Not to mention Karaoke John on Friday nights. Don't miss Mr. Jeff's Metallica Sundays which are getting big and BLACK MONDAY where if you wear all black we have a surprise for you.The old man recently invested in a second nitrogen gas blender for the beer system. What that means is that we now serve Guiness on tap. Sold a whole keg on the first day. Since the Irish pub left Ybor, we figure it was time to take up the slack and serve Guiness. Didn't take long for some college boy to steal the tap handle though. If Ehab catches him he'll skin him alive, don’t ‘cha know?Put in 4 beer pong tables and the draft consumption went up 500% overnight. Ping pong balls all over the place. Ehab, always a curmudgeon, says no serious drinking establishment has got ping pong balls underfoot but Mr. Jeff points out that only serious drinking establishments increase draft sales 500% overnight.All the waiters, bartenders, servers, managers, owners and the like of every retail establishment in Ybor are spending their afternoons ( and their tip money) at the Grotto. Feels like the warm, collegial buzz that the Captain envisioned when he opened the bar continues to spread. We take care of our friends, we do.The old chef could cook like anything but come to find out after many successful months of employment, he had previously left from the custody of the State of Michigan without asking if he could go. That’s spelled E-S-C-A-P-E-E. So, when the police inquired about him on another small matter and found out that the folks in Michigan wanted desperately to speak to him, the poor lad found himself in the hoo-scow facing extradition, we presume. Anyway, new chef come on board and this lad can cook and clean something fierce and Ehab says that if it weren't for the head bar wench he'd marry the guy. Somehow that's hard to believe. Come on in and try some real home cooking from the galley. Our new $5 lunch bucket is good and fast.St. Pats day was a big success. Went through enough corned beef to elevate Argentina to 1st world status. The Rough Riders were everywhere and we were pouring 'em car bombs all over the place.Last week the 2nd annual International Cane Spirits Festival took place. Once again the Captain was a judge. Doing a job he was born for. Tasted over 80 different rums and cachasas, he did. Folks from all over the world attended and it was bigger than last year. Next year it will be hard to get tickets, we're sure. Try one of the Captain's Cai Pirinha ( KYE PEER EEN YA). The old man been making 'em since he was a wet behind the ears cadet on the SS Mormac Pride, running New York to Santos, Brasil, and you won't find a better one anywhereYesterday, old Ehab wandered in with a flat of mint plants and planted them on the patio. Now when a guest asks for a mojito ( or a mint Julep) the bartenders send 'em outside with instructions to pick 5 mint leafs off the plants and bring 'em back to the bar. The customers get a kick out of that and once again, no B.S., Gaspar's Grotto can claim to have the best mojito and it's 100% true. Who else picks fresh mint for each drink? No one, that’s who! We won't tell 'em that we saw the Tank lurking and sniffing around the mint plants er.. ah...erghh......Yesterday Ehab took the youngest whelp to the shooting range. Took the .45 caliber Colt 1911, (the one 4 fingered Willy carried on Tinian in 1945). Took it out of the holster he carries in the waistband at the small of his back and the two proceeded to punch very small groups of very large holes in paper targets with nearly overwhelming sound and fury. Both those reprobates, we hear, had evil grins on their mugs. All told, the little guy, held his own. Such a sweet child. Funny way how those Ehab's bond!Come on in and take a look at what’s new at the Grotto. It’s always a delight and a surprise and you never know who you’ll see sitting in a booth or bellied up to the bar. Word is that more business gets done at the bar than at City Hall, the Courthouse and Palma Ceia Golfcourse, all three put togetherAARRGGHH!!Ehab’s loyal scribe