It was a cold, snowy night at the love shack. Guests were over, dinner was cooking, and the sound of Tom Powers on the CBC was floating through the hyggelig house. The conversation paused as the group sat down to say grace, when all of a sudden a soft chatter resonated around the room.
The guests were puzzled, the hosts had no answers. The rapid, rhythmic clacking grew louder. Brizzle was perplexed, Oli-B was scared. They followed the noise to the back door and peered through the window, fearing the worst.
The most curious sight met them: shivering, small and alone, was a little jar of dough sitting in the fresh fallen November snow.
The group had to act quickly. Splitting up, they ran to the fireplace and flicked on the gas flame, they fetched a warm tea towel out of the dryer, and someone scrambled to call nine-one-one. All attempts to revive the dough were futile, it was unresponsive except for the occasional whimper.
illy, the house paramedic, took a closer look. Gingerly, she lifted off the poor patient's lid. She peered inside and was immediately hit by a wave of some strange smell. Was it vinegar? Was it alcohol? Was it rot? What was it?
"AHA!" illy exclaimed. "It's sourdough starter!". There was hope.
The gang broke out the kitchen scale and the flour. Carefully, they coaxed what life was left out of the cold gooey mess. Gram by gram of flour, drop by drop of water, the starter grew and bubbled and awoke. A pair of eyes appeared and blinked groggily in the bright light. A feeble voice croaked "Thank you, kind strangers. I've been wandering in this harsh foreign land for what seems like an age. You're the first to take pity on my sorry self. Thank you. Thank you..."
A tear rolled down Stuball's cheek.
"Tell me, please," whispered the starter, who before the pandas' eyes had already grown three sizes, "who are these angels that have so selflessly saved me from the icy abyss? What is this place? If you were to tell me it is heaven I would not doubt you for a moment."
Brizzle-bear let out a hearty guffaw, "please, my little fermented friend, this here house is greater than that of the Lord. Our pearly gates aren't so pretentious. We welcome saints, sinners, and everyone in between. Welcome, little bubbly buddy, to The Bad Panda Love Shack!!!"
The starter was dumbstruck "T-the, The Bad Panda Love Shack?" he stammered, "it cannot be true, it is but a legend. Such a realm of tranquillity and grooviness cannot exist...it cannot be true...."
"Believe it, bud." replied Stuball "you're staying at The Shack tonight. In fact, you can stay here as long as you'd like. By the way, do sourdough starters like yourself have names?"
The starter was silent for a time. Finally, he spoke: "The Bad Panda Love Shack. I scarcely dare to believe it, but if what you speak is true then something is about to happen that has not happened for an age."
The Pandas held their collective breath. Oli-B wee'd herself.
"Pavel the Party Starter is getting turnt' in this b**ch."
And so the greatest shindig in all the annals of time raged on until the town was drunk dry. Debauchery was had, lives were changed, and a new Panda was born: Pavel the Party Starter.
The guests were puzzled, the hosts had no answers. The rapid, rhythmic clacking grew louder. Brizzle was perplexed, Oli-B was scared. They followed the noise to the back door and peered through the window, fearing the worst.
The most curious sight met them: shivering, small and alone, was a little jar of dough sitting in the fresh fallen November snow.
The group had to act quickly. Splitting up, they ran to the fireplace and flicked on the gas flame, they fetched a warm tea towel out of the dryer, and someone scrambled to call nine-one-one. All attempts to revive the dough were futile, it was unresponsive except for the occasional whimper.
illy, the house paramedic, took a closer look. Gingerly, she lifted off the poor patient's lid. She peered inside and was immediately hit by a wave of some strange smell. Was it vinegar? Was it alcohol? Was it rot? What was it?
"AHA!" illy exclaimed. "It's sourdough starter!". There was hope.
The gang broke out the kitchen scale and the flour. Carefully, they coaxed what life was left out of the cold gooey mess. Gram by gram of flour, drop by drop of water, the starter grew and bubbled and awoke. A pair of eyes appeared and blinked groggily in the bright light. A feeble voice croaked "Thank you, kind strangers. I've been wandering in this harsh foreign land for what seems like an age. You're the first to take pity on my sorry self. Thank you. Thank you..."
A tear rolled down Stuball's cheek.
"Tell me, please," whispered the starter, who before the pandas' eyes had already grown three sizes, "who are these angels that have so selflessly saved me from the icy abyss? What is this place? If you were to tell me it is heaven I would not doubt you for a moment."
Brizzle-bear let out a hearty guffaw, "please, my little fermented friend, this here house is greater than that of the Lord. Our pearly gates aren't so pretentious. We welcome saints, sinners, and everyone in between. Welcome, little bubbly buddy, to The Bad Panda Love Shack!!!"
The starter was dumbstruck "T-the, The Bad Panda Love Shack?" he stammered, "it cannot be true, it is but a legend. Such a realm of tranquillity and grooviness cannot exist...it cannot be true...."
"Believe it, bud." replied Stuball "you're staying at The Shack tonight. In fact, you can stay here as long as you'd like. By the way, do sourdough starters like yourself have names?"
The starter was silent for a time. Finally, he spoke: "The Bad Panda Love Shack. I scarcely dare to believe it, but if what you speak is true then something is about to happen that has not happened for an age."
The Pandas held their collective breath. Oli-B wee'd herself.
"Pavel the Party Starter is getting turnt' in this b**ch."
And so the greatest shindig in all the annals of time raged on until the town was drunk dry. Debauchery was had, lives were changed, and a new Panda was born: Pavel the Party Starter.