Shack Daniel's

Welcome to Shack Daniel’s!

A young establishment started by glorified fry cooks, we greet you heartily, and thank you for choosing to dine with us!

Our distinct, inimitable and exclusive menu is our primary USP, coupled, of course, with the beautiful location and serene atmosphere we offer you.

As you walk up the cobblestone path leading to our quaint, homely cottage, your senses will be assaulted not only by the aromas of delectable preparations, but also by the sweet smell of the lilies and orchids that dot the pathway you tread on.

All that we serve has been entirely prepared by us, down to every last ingredient. In the backgarden behind our chalet, we grow our own vegetables, spices, herbs and all the other exotic organic constituents of our menu items. For the chemically prepared ones, we have an in-house laboratory that we proudly man ourselves.

As you dine on the teak and wrought-iron furniture tastefully spread across our lodge, or on the terrace and lawns for when the weather has decided to be friendlier, your gaze falls upon the charming little pond right outside our shack, the chirping birds and the picturesque landscape. All this while the sun smiles down and wind flirtatiously whistles at you as you enjoy the meal we graciously prepare for you.

Our introductory menu is described below. We are in the process of developing it further, for your unparalleled pleasure. Do feel free to write us feedback or suggest items of your own, we would be happy to prepare them for you. Also, remember to beware of impostors, because there seem to be a couple lurking around in murky corners, trying to kidnap our clientele, armed with stun guns, gunny sacks et al. As any decent, refined gourmand will appreciate, we are the best at what we do.

INTRODUCTORY MENU FOR SHACK DANIEL’S:

1. Marijua-naan

2. Herbed chicken

3. LSDahi

4. Beef Blots

5. Beef Pot Rice

6. Crystal Methi

7. Crispeed chicken

8. Roast Hare-oin

9. Bhang-ed Duck

DON’T FORGET TO LOOK OUT FOR…

Our very own brand of cigarettes, coming out soon, for our esteemed and loyal customers only!

Our very own brand of alcohol, that will put the rival – and more popular JD – to shame!

The following map should help you find us. Local GPS also directs you here:

The Multi Function Device (MFD)

It's difficult to not unintentionally make a convincing case for this specimen being a handy workplace gadget. She's the perfect personal assistant. She'll be your mental scrapbook, effortlessly keeping up as you deposit everything of note, consequential or not, to her. Faultlessly methodical and systematic, she'll readily be your secretary, fully living up to every titular connotation, even those lurking in the darker recesses of your imagination, if you happen to be that lucky person. She's about as eloquent as your compact thesaurus, but a smidgen tinier than it. If you happen to be damaged enough to thrive on pointless dissertations on the semantic analysis and cultural imperialistic implications of the most commonplace words, you've met your intellectual match.

If you take her out to dinner, she'll insist on splitting the bill, but more notably, arrange her share of the payment in the ascending order of denomination, coins through notes, which should distract you enough from the fact that she'll never let you pay for her. More of a geek than your carefully concealed gender bias will permit, she'll occasionally send you affectionate texts formatted in tidy, indented Java syntax - whitespace, brace brackets and all. She's admirably assertive, yet polite - unless you're a caller from an insurance company. Invade on her privacy and personal space without warrant, and you'll have a real situation on your hands. Full chain mail suit recommended, apology bouquet not.

But don't let all this disillusion you entirely, for hiding behind those guarded walls, lies a softer side that's apt to surprise you. And once you discover it, you'll wonder why you didn't see it all along, because this is the charming, lovable, thoughtful side. The one that manages to contort the foulest scowl on your face into a shamelessly toothy grin with the little things about her, the simple, yet endearing and enduring minutiae. In short, she has the potential to leave you feeling sloppier than a baby sploshing about in a tub of melting butter. Ordinarily, that might not be a good thing, but with her, it is.

If you spend enough time sieving through her bookshelves that splinter and split under the weight of massive Kafka and Dostoevsky volumes, you'll find copies of Meg Cabot sitting unabashedly, assured of their place, however infrequent, in her reading cycle. Also behind the studied, penetrating glare lies another hidden side. Pure dementia. One that bellows incoherent debasements of everything from supposed instrumental sounds, to long-hallowed school anthems, with equal parts deafening volume and grating atonality. One that spews the most bafflingly inane utterances imaginable, enough to furnish you with enough material to compile a sufficiently large tome of laughably inadequate epigrams, which she will insist on spell checking and proofreading prior to publication.

While all this sounds like a wonderful package, there is a single piece of pertinent advice to be taken very seriously. Her idea of light-hearted fun just might not suit you too well, unless you enjoy feeling like a ravenous hound in heat for the greater portion of your day. Hide your buttons well, because if she finds them, she'll push them until they break, or more probably, you do.

The Accidental Poet and The Twilight Augur

Lennon lied; Love is not all you need.
Of the immortal elements, Time is of a higher creed.

This looks like the beginning of a poetic spree. This is not just a foray. Be forewarned, you are at the gates to obsession.

God. Medication seems to be required.
I am NOT a poet, this sudden need to rhyme is absurd.
Evolution into one is a frightening prospect,
Poetry has thus far been an elusive concept.
What is this, I find it hard to describe.
To this way of conversing, I do not subscribe.
Yet my fingers fly over my mobile phone keys,
Whoever thought it could come to me with such ease?
I'm trying to stop, believe me I am,
To deign to rhyme is not my chosen plan.

Sweet Jesus. You're turning into a monster! The uncontrollable urge to rhyme has seized your mind. You chronic rhymer.

The apocalypse is nigh. A rhyming obsession several hours before your eco paper. This doesn't augur well for the coming day. Doom is imminent. May you be elegantly poetic even in your final death. As your brain fires its last feeble impulses, let a limerick grace your pallid lips.

You suck.

The hours before my paper are not several.
Hell, why is this urge so palpable?
Such drama is not the need of the hour,
I think it's about time you go take a shower.
The coming day holds for several big hopes and dreams,
Since I know I'm failing, I'd rather gorge on ice cream.
Death is not imminent, don't be ridiculous.
Horses neigh and lions roar, but snakes hiss.
I'm tired and sleepy yet slumber evades me,
So do the concepts of Engel's Curve and Utility.
I do not suck, your accusation is an affront.
You were right when you said that he is a cunt.
Please make me stop, this cannot be healthy.
I'm stealing my neighbour's wi-fi, quite so stealthily.

Hahahahaha! This one was great! Hilarious. I love the parts about stealing wi-fi stealthily. Also the completely random part about horses, lions and snakes. And of course, the allusion to the cunt. This keeps getting better. I presage great fortune.

Strange you mention a shower, I just had one. You are creepy sometimes. :P

This seems to be an acquired skill, I am getting better,
Haw, to this crime, you are an abettor.
Creepy is sad, I prefer psychic,
Choose your words carefully, don't be a hick.
I am known to be entertaining yet,
For this kind of amusement on myself I'd never have bet.
Randomness has been called my forte,
Horses do in stables stay.
Allusions to the cunt are unintentional,
Such mistakes should not be met with approval.
You probably have to leave sometime soon,
Good luck for your paper, it shan't be doom.

I think the worst parts of your poetry are the best, purely because they're so intolerably funny. Examples -

Randomness has been called my forte,

Horses do in stables stay.

That might just be the single worst piece of poetry ever conceived. You ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself.

Also, you used the word 'Haw' in poetry. Fail.

To be studied by posterity this is not meant,
How can you be so rude, I'm just looking to vent.
The point of my rants are not what they say,
The focus is meant to be in what form they lay.
Do not criticise, this is not me blogging.
I can't help it, I probably deserve a flogging.
You sound so condescending, it's such a facade,
I know, deep down, you're relishing this charade.
The sun is about to rise, it's more scary than cool,
How I've been up all night, yet am an Economics fool.
Of wisdom do you have any words to impart?
Else I will, to curse myself, start.
Notice how this one has no random allusions,
Except this: Life is a series of hazy illusions.
To rise above the mist is a feat applaudable,
An achievement great, a party causable.

Hey this one was actually really good. Looks like you're warning up to the art of poetry. Again, I sense the onset of a disease. But it's ok, I forgive and accept you.

And you got me, I'm thoroughly enjoying this early morning entertainment. Just realised, this conversation has been going on for almost four hours. We have no life. Lol. Also indicates why you are still an Economics Fool.

If this is disrupting your study, seriously, we'll talk later. You have about... four hours to your doom. Study a bit, lessen the blow. Unless, of course, you have determined your path to be the one of Fuck That Shit (TM).

My fears are of the following nature:
My paper is to be written by this rhyming creature.
Definitions will take on a frightening form,
Once into the exam room I do storm.
Our common friends will curse us when their homepages open,
Our wall-to-wall they will want to toss in the bin.
Inane conversations as such are guilty pleasures,
Cheat notes are supposed to be hidden treasures.
It's a shame I have no experience in that field,
I really could use help, my ignorance I must shield.
I'm trying to sleep, yet I cannot rest,
This is painful, my ingenuity is a pest.
I gave up the futile attempts a while ago,
The stamp of a good student I am fated to forgo.
Your recent appreciation is much appreciable,
But anything more than words is not feasible.
What am I to do, where to roam?
For one with such rhymes, this house cannot be a home.
I try to rest my head still with rhymes it teems,
Sleep before my paper not an option seems.

"Our wall-to-wall they will want to toss in bin." - You have fallen to new depths. I had some faith in you. But I love it anyway. :P

Are you in a position to actually fail the exam? Or are you one of the blessed few with a natural flair to faff in an eco exam?

I bet you're going to run out of steam soon and relapse into prose mode anytime now. :P

Such bets you'd be a fool to make,
The very core of your life savings is up for a shake.
Failure to me is a concept as of today foreign,
Perhaps I will somehow manage my limited knowledge to lengthen.
Pray for me, thou officious knave,
I am, as cannot be helped, to my mind a slave.

Lies! I see your facade crumbling already! Your defenses are weakening. Your brave mask is wearing thin. Soon, you shall be devoid of verse.

And then, I shall laugh. Heartily, and in your face, in that order of priority.

Of poetry why would a facade I create?
This urge my inner consciousness can't seem to permeate.
If my resolve seems flagging, stand not this smug,
It's merely exhaustion, at me slumber tugs.