Thread: Circus: Taking it literally Board: Limbo / Ship of Fools.


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Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
It's a short story format, but limited to four sentences per post. The last sentence must contain a figurative expression or idiom that isn't normally taken literally, but which the next player must take at face value and work into his or her post.

(Once you have posted, please wait until someone else has before you post again.)

* * *

It was Monday morning at the office. I didn't want to be there. There was too much email in my in-box and too much work in my in-tray. And it was raining cats and dogs.

[ 21. February 2010, 12:39: Message edited by: Imaginary Friend ]
 
Posted by Gwai (# 11076) on :
 
So I looked at the bright side and remembered that it could be worse -- I could be on weather-clean-up patrol. That made me feel a bit better, so I opened the window to watch the poor wretches suffer. It was a big storm too and they had everyone on shift that they could get too. I'd say they were using everything they had to clean those animals up, everything but the kitchen sink!
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
I lifted the phone. "Acme Superior Kitchens? One sink, please. How much? Oh, OK - let's push the boat out".
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
It wasn't long before a boat with the Acme Superior Kitchens logo and a sink in the back sailed past the office window. "I've brought your sink," the man on the boat shouted over the noise of the engine and clambered through the window with the sink under one arm. "It might take a while to install it, though, in this weather."

"That's OK," I said, "I'm not doing anything - I'll just hang around."
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
Fortunately someone noticed and cut me down before I did myself any great mischief. My neck was rather sore, but I rinsed it under the washroom tap until it started to feel better. Then I settled down to do some work before my boss noticed anything amiss. I had my nose to the grindstone all afternoon.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Chorister:
Fortunately someone noticed and cut me down before I did myself any great mischief. My neck was rather sore, but I rinsed it under the washroom tap until it started to feel better. Then I settled down to do some work before my boss noticed anything amiss. I had my nose to the grindstone all afternoon.
(wow, now I know why there's so much misunderstanding over interpreting the bible [Biased] )
 
Posted by pimple (# 10635) on :
 
Installation complete, the workman said "There you are Mr. Pinocchio. Oh! What's happened to your face?" He was trying not to laugh. So I cut him dead.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Immediately there was the sound of sirens in the distance and I realised that my impulsive nature had once again got the better of me. I dropped the axe and made haste in the general direction of the fire escape, leaving the body in pieces on the floor. My nose was sore where the tip of it had been worn away by the grindstone, but at least there was no danger of tripping over a cat or stepping in a poodle. But it was clear that the police were on my tail.
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
With the police on my tail, I couldn't go anywhere no matter how I wriggled and writhed; the car was just too heavy. They asked me, "why did you kill him?" and I couldn't come up with a good lie, so I just sort of mumbled something about having a quick temper. That's when I dropped the bomb.
 
Posted by Lamb Chopped (# 5528) on :
 
I didn't mean to. I was holding it for a friend. But I have to admit, it got the police off my tail. So then I high-tailed it out of there as fast as I could go.
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
Unfortunately, I'm an awkward runner at best. My attempt at running with a non-existent tail held high was humorous. It caused laughing everywhere I went. I busted a gut laughing at myself.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Fortunately it was not my own gut that I burst, but rather the extremely large haggis which I was holding under my left arm as I ran. As offal tumbled out all over the road and under my feet, causing me to slither and slide in a most ungainly manner, I struggled to regain my composure. I swerved into a dark alley, only to find my way blocked by the largest and ugliest thug ever to walk the streets. I knew I'd had my chips.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
They reappeared promptly. It was a waste of a good meal, and at some point I was going to be very hungry again, but it at least had the desired effect. The huge thug was disgusted enough to back off quickly, disappear and leave me alone in case I threw up on him. Now I just needed to do a quick bit of blue-sky thinking.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Alongside me there was a fire escape leading to the roof of a neighbouring building - the perfect spot! I clambered up, perched myself astride the ridge tiles, gazed up at the heavens above and started to think of whispy white clouds, little butterflies and, best of all, blue skies. Shame it was such a dismal day. I was feeling rather down in the dumps.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
To be honest, if you have to be feeling in dumps, I would sooner have eider down than rather down. It sticks to you so. But not to worry! The world was my oyster.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
Fortunately, I found I was not the only person there. I made a friend that day - his name was Stig, and he lived in the dumps, permanently. He was also rather good at driving fast cars, so he took me on an exhilarating ride. It was quite a hair-raising journey.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
*darn the cross-post*

So I plastered down my hair, picked up the Oyster Card (which someone had conveniently discarded) and caught the bus instead. But I didn't get very far, because there was a traffic jam in Oxford Street, as far as the eye could see. I huffed and harrumphed for several minutes. Then, completely losing patience, I gave the hapless driver a piece of my mind.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
He looked at it, bewildered. "What's this?"

"It's - duh - a piece of - um - my - er - mind," I explained with slow but helpful clarity, wondering who this strange individual was.

"You'd better have it back," said the driver promptly and returned it to me. "You need all the help you can get - you're obviously a good four sandwiches short of a picnic."
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
"Then drop me at the nearest deli where I may repair my loss", I requested. "Nearest is Big Jim's Extreme Sushi with extra poison blowfish", replied the driver, "I wouldn't advise it but it's your funeral".
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
That piece of unwelcome information disturbed me greatly, I had had other plans for the afternoon, but figured that maybe they would have to wait. I wasnt sure what the protocol was for turning up at your own funeral if you hadnt made prior arrangements. Then suddenly the whole thing struck me as hilariously funny and I nearly died laughing.
 
Posted by Golden Key (# 1468) on :
 
Fortunately, Dr. Gregory House was on hand to revive me. We had a late lunch at a lovely restaurant, overlooking the bay. Halfway through dessert, Greg got an emergency call. I accompanied him on his motorcycle, and he drove like a bat out of hell.

[Smile]
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
The trouble with bats out of hell is that while they're built for speed, they have problems reaching the pedals. Greg's amazingly short legs were no exception to the rule. Also, his amazingly short arms meant he had problems steering. In short, he was a fish out of water.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
The great disadvantage of being driven by a fish out of water is that it's not all that long before they expire behind the wheel and leave you at the mercy of the oncoming traffic. It was a blessing that we weren't going very fast due to his inability to reach the accelerator. Nevertheless, as we had just rounded the corner and found ourselves at the top of a steep hill when he flipped his last, the momentum rapidly built up and we headed down at increasing speeds towards the motorway below us. My heart was in my mouth.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
Mmmm, it tasted quite good, actually. Almost as good as the liver and heart casserole I had at the 'Horn of Plenty' last Friday. However, I decided I might need my own heart for other things, so swallowed it fast. That was just before we sailed over a extra-humpy humpbacked bridge which totally left my stomach behind.
 
Posted by Bacchus (# 11408) on :
 
I was none too happy about the potential outcome, but no matter how much I tried to get him to slow down, he wouldn't hear of it. It was like beating my head against a wall.
 
Posted by Bacchus (# 11408) on :
 
Sorry. Cross post.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
"My stomach!" I shrieked frantically, "we have to go back and get it!"

The batfish who was driving either didn't hear or wasn't listening. With a sudden uncharacteristic moment of decisiveness I seized the wheel from him, turned the motorbike round set off back to retrieve my lost organ. Quickly dusting it off and plugging it back into place, I started to feel more settled, then looked around and realized the batfish had disappeared taking the bike with him, and I had completely lost my bearings.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Perhaps, I thought, they will have been handed in at the Lost Property Office. But the aged clerk behind the counter shook his head. "Umbrellas - every day. But bearings - once in a blue moon."
 
Posted by Sir Kevin (# 3492) on :
 
I then found them in my shirt pocket. Taking them out, I carefully re-installed them. I must have put them in wrong. The car would only go in reverse.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Sir Kevin - you have to pick up on the figurative trope and in the last sentence and treat it literally.

So you need to introduce a blue moon.

And then introduce a new trope in your post.

[ 23. August 2009, 19:39: Message edited by: Firenze ]
 
Posted by Sir Kevin (# 3492) on :
 
Blue Moon was a lovely song from the 20th century. It involves someone speaking directly to a blue moon. I have never seen one. I have seen the yellow sun much too often!
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Sir Kevin, you need to pick up from where the last person left off, introducing the idiom that they used in their last sentence, then carry on the story and in your last sentence, introduce an idiom that the next person has to take literally. You have to do all this in a maximum of four sentences.

If this isn't clear, please say so; or let someone else have a go instead.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I checked my Almanac and as luck would have it.. the next Blue Moon was due the following Tuesday.
I spent the intervening days in a state of flux before being able to enquire moments after the office opened on Wednesday morning.... Bearings? Bearings? querried the woman behind the counter.. Oh BEARINGS!! as in lost in... here you go and handed me a form the size of telephone directory to sign to say that I had received them.
I admit I wasnt as polite as I could have been in the circumstances but that was no excuse for her to tell me to go take a long walk off a short pier.
 
Posted by Dafyd (# 5549) on :
 
The dame had a gun pointed at me, so I thought I'd better comply. I was already wanted for two deaths, so I couldn't call the police. Was this some kind of pirate conspiracy? I wondered as I stepped off the edge. I hoped something would turn up before I hit the water.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
Suddenly, a comfy sofa, which had been submerged cushion-side-down, turned up and floated to the surface. What a stroke of luck! I lay down, closed my eyes, and was sawing logs in no time.
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
Obviously, ever conscious of 'elf-'n'-safety, I remained awake while busily sawing the logs (it's amazing how many trees grow beside short piers). Soon I felt so hungry I could eat a horse between two bread-vans ...
 
Posted by ephemera (# 13355) on :
 
I jumped off the wet couch, tossing aside the saw and logs, and swam to shore, where I took off running after the two bread-vans. When they stopped to make a delivery, I attempted to take a bite out of the rump of the horse that was tied between them. He was having nothing of it, and he kicked me squarely in the jaw. I flew back into the street and thought I had shuffled off this mortal coil and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!


(Posted with thanks to Michael Palin, John Cleese and the parrot!)
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
Embarrassing, really, shuffling down the road with me mortal coil round me ankles. Happily, being invisible an' all, the angelic choristers' blood went unremarked by the early morning passers by. Even so, it had been a helluva day and I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
If you have ever tried running with the weight of the world on your shoulders, you'll know what a Herculean task it is; certainly not to be recommended when you're dripping wet and nursing a severely bruised jaw. I wouldn't be eating anything more solid than semolina for a day or two. As I staggered under the intense weight and dripped slowly onto the pavement (where the water droplets mingled with the invisible blood and thinned it admirably) I heaved a great sigh. The day was certainly turning pear-shaped.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
"Does my bum look big in this?" asked the day. As it was pear-shaped, there was no tactful answer to this. I looked wildly round for a distraction. "Well, stone the crows!" I exclaimed.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Immediately there was a flock of aggrieved stoned crows flying past in an erratic sort of way, crying "Caw blimey!" The day was distracted enough to forget me completely, which was fine by me. I sneaked off into the night, hoping it would be a bit quieter, a rain of pebbles falling around my ears as the crows passed overhead. What I wanted was a stiff drink and somewhere I could let my hair down.
 
Posted by Von Bingen (# 13902) on :
 
Fortunately, my favourite pub, the "Rapunzel's Tower", was just round the corner. A pint of real ale and a packet of pork scratchings went down a treat. But suddenly the place went completely still all around me and I raised my head in surprise. It was so quiet you could've heard a pin drop.
 
Posted by kingsfold (# 1726) on :
 
And then I heard the pin drop.
It was the pin holding up my trousers, which were now in a little heap around my ankles.
I was that embarrassed, you could have fried an egg on my face.
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
Fortunately, it was now breakfast-time, and an egg fried "sunny-side-up" on Kingsfold's face was just what the doctor ordered.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Which was to coat myself in goose-grease and wear a dried frog round my neck. I sometimes wondered where he had studied for his medical degree. But when I presented the prescription, the pharmacist just looked at me. "Are you pulling my leg?"
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Luckily enough I was indeed pulling his leg, which being wooden happened to on fire at the time. Good job I have eyes in the back of my head I replied.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Come to think of it, it wasn't entirely a good job I had eyes in the back of my head, because for one thing, on the rare occasions when I managed to keep my hair out of them, it meant I could see where I'd just been rather than where I was going, and also I often wondered why I seemed to be walking backwards.

But there were much worse things than having a spare pair of eyes, though a spare pair of hands would have been better. But we are as we're made.

It was then I bumped into someone I used to work with, and remembered immediately why I didn't like him: he was two-faced.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
That two-faced git, Janus - that was all I needed! He could never be trusted - pretending to be friends one minute and the next causing trouble behind your back. Still, I suppose I'm stuck with him so I'd better get used to it. He'd sell his own grandmother if he got half the chance.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
That two-faced git, Janus - that was all I needed! He could never be trusted - pretending to be friends one minute and the next causing trouble behind your back. Still, I suppose I'm stuck with him so I'd better get used to it. He'd sell his own grandmother if he got half the chance.
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
So I gave him a half chance, the batfish currency equivalent of 3 restles in our country, and the jerk gave me his grandmother. That's OK; despite my rather eventful life, I'll be glad to take care of her. So, I took her home and put her suitcases in her room and encouraged her to catch some Z's before lunch.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Which she did. And very nice they were, sauted with a little ginger and chili, if a little salty. "I think I'll just go down to the pub. I could murder a pint."
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
Whereupon a dwarf crossed her path. "Take that!" she exclaimed, as she plunged into the dwarf's chest the knife she always carried in her bosom. Unfortunately her murderous act was witnessed by a passer-by. "Don't let the cat out of the bag!" she implored.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Having always been opposed to animal cruelty (if not to violence towards small people), I seized the writhing bag from her hands and released the poor kitty who was trapped within it. I soon realised my error. Not only had I antagonised this witness to my attack upon the dwarf, but I now also had a face full of irate feline which seemed to be a ginger fireball of teeth and claws. I was clearly up the creek without a paddle.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
With no way to maneuver my canoe, I found myself hurtling forward on the unusually turbulent creek. "Where will it end?", I wondered.

Suddenly, a log fell across the creek, then another and another, and I saw from the corner of my eye the sinister glint of beaver teeth.

"Well, I'll be damned!" I breathed.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Which, given my record of assorted homicides, was hardly surprising. Clearly, I needed to update my shriving and fast. I hailed a passing taxi. "To the nearest Father Confessor, and don't spare the horses!"
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
The day was clearly going from bad to worse, as now on top of a worryingly persistant law enforcement officer who was on my tail... I now had an animal cruelty inspector on the case having been alerted to the case by an outraged passer by.
Horses, I love them, big things with a leg on each corner, but clearly the only way I was going to be able to clear my name was to open a home for retired ponies and a sanctuary for all things feathered and fluffy, however my more pressing need was to find the nearest confessional but I wondered if I was cutting my nose off to spite my face.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Luckily I wasn't. So I went ahead and opened the H4RP and S4ATF&F. It was the work of a minute, and within a minute I had my first inhabitants - a small, bedraggled canary and a rather elderly horse who had once been in the Royal Horse Guards and was inclined to look down his illustrious equine nose at the rest of the world in consequence. But as far as I was concerned, he could like it or lump it.
 
Posted by Gwai (# 11076) on :
 
It just figured that he decided to go with the lumps and soon he had invited at least sixty moles to live on the acres designed for the retired horse. I was at my wit's end and didn't know what to do until I thought of Janus's grandmother. I decided to tell her that if she wanted to stay with me, she would need to become the caretaker of the retired horse and mole farm. After some of what can only barely be called discussion, she agreed, but it was a bit of a shotgun wedding.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
The wedding wasn't too bad - everyone behaved themselves impeccably, what with the shotgun being so obviously present. But the reception was something else. Everyone got violently drunk, then the top table collapsed and the bride and groom fell sprawling on the floor. And to top it all, the wedding food was appalling - the sandwiches were soggy, the cake had hardly any fruit in it and the cheese was so strong it blew the roof of my mouth off.
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
"Muh mfpf app pah kaaahhh!" was all I could say. Fortunately, a plastic surgeon was at the wedding and he reconstructed my palate and made me a new upper lip. Still haven't got to the confessor yet, but I'm beginning to believe in karma about this point, anyway. If I ever wanted the police off my tail, and to keep from getting hurt further, I'd better do an about face.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"Look, Mommy, there's Janus!" a toddler exclaimed to its mother as they passed by. I hadn't realized that turning my face about as I did would give the impression that I was the Roman god of beginnings and endings. "Child," I asked, "are you sure you're not mistaken?" "It's as clear as mud!" the toddler replied.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
The kid was right. But how am I to keep my youthful complexion if I don't wear my clarifying moisturizing, vitamin-enriched, herb-infused all organic mud-pack every once in a while? Nevertheless, I washed it off both my faces and moved on.

It was time to pick up the pieces.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
You'd have thought that any well-planned wedding would have included someone to clear up the broken china and glass, but as it seemed that nobody else was going to do that task, and as the clock on the wall was clearly pointing to "tidy-up-time", I set to. My back was aching from all the bending and stretching and I had a crick in my neck from all that turning about of the head, not to mention my aching feet and the slight chill I was sensing from wearing wet clothes. Still, my skin looked fresh and youthful. I was no mutton dressed as lamb.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
In fact I don't give a damm about what people think of the way I dress. I love my pink tutu and leopard skin tights, granted the ostrich feather boa may not be to everyones taste, but that is no reason that I can see to get your knickers in a twist.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Mind you, that would explain why I had been feeling so uncomfortable. Looking for somewhere retired in which to untwist my undergarments, I went through a door marked 'Private'. And found myself all at sea.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
It was my own fault for not having checked, as one should normally do, that there was any kind of floor behind the door. I plunged 20 feet straight down into the water, gasped, then bobbed to the surface.

It was at this point that the man from Acme Superior Kitchens sailed past, and instantly grasping the situation, reached out a hand and pulled me aboard. He was kind enough to indicate a change of clothes, bag of sandwiches and flask of brandy; I jumped at them.
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
Unfortunately, my jumping skills are as well-defined as my aiming skills, and I missed them thoroughly. However, it did lead to a stimulating conversation with the man from Acme Superior Kitchens. He suggested that I take a course in remedial directional gravity, and glanced at me to verify that I understood what he meant. My mind was a complete blank.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
What? Where am I? What am I doing here? It's all Greek to me.
 
Posted by Dafyd (# 5549) on :
 
Who said my koine classes would be of no practical use?
I was finally fished out of the water by a galley load of passing men in robes. I tried to remember the details of my past: there was something to do with a wedding and needing to see a confessor. I needed to put the pieces of my life back together.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Using a large roll of Sellotape and some ingenuity, as I wasn't quite sure what went where, I pieced my life together and looked appraisingly at the results. I had put some bits back in a different order, and there were some missing and a small handful of pieces left over. But it would do, and I'd just about run out of Sellotape anyway. I walked on with a spring in my step.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I had not walked far before having to stop and shake the spring out of my shoe, which was causing me to walk in a very strange manner and had attracted the unwelcome stares of passers by.

The sellotape holding my life together was threatening to come undone at any moment, and I was desperated to find a confessional before the pieces of my life fell apart again. To be honest I would have sold my own dear grandmother at this point if it would help... and if that shocks you well you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
Yes, it was dear Grandma's dying wish to be cremated and her remains smoked in the pipes of the bereaved, and those of their faithful readers. Of course, in case of emergencies she allowed us to sell those remains as well.

Oh, sweet generous clever Grandma! How I wish you were here to lend a hand.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
"All hands on deck!" shouted the skipper. Fortunately, the First Mate had lent me one of his spares. But I was a bit thrown when the next command was: "Best foot forward!"
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Fortunately I was not thrown very far. I looked, and it was one of the priests who had done the deed. "Father!" I cried, "don't throw me, listen to my confession!" But it was like talking to a brick wall.
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
And not just like talking to one, but I actually did have a discussion with the wall, which had much sage advice (it was wearing a gown and mortar board after all [Biased] ). Unfortunately, all the head-banging has driven these words of wisdom from my mind but I know it was a good old chin wag.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I pondered the question of whether a good chin wag was morally superior to a bad chin wag, or if a bad chin wag could be shown the error of its ways and be redeemed.

I asked the priest who was persistently banging his head against the brick wall, but all that he could mutter in a half strangled voice was " Over my dead body".
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
Which promptly came to pass . . . the good padre took one last bang and dropped dead! There was a splendid requiem mass at the cathedral. Great tat, better preaching, better still liturgy. Everyone gasped at the opening of the eucharistic prayer when the bishop intoned, "Lift up your hearts."
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
But fortunately everybody had been issued a complete package of gizzards at the door, which included hearts. These were promptly lifted, and great hymns of praise were raised to God. After the mass we were treated to a sumptuous feast in the fellowship hall. There was enough food there to sink a battleship!
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
As we swam away from the sunken wreck of the Belgrano I couldn't help wondering: how the hell did we all end up off the Falkland Islands?? Talk about going to the ends of the earth ...*

* If you do live in the Falkland Islands, this obviously doesn't apply. [Big Grin]
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And sure enough we were scooped up by a passing spaceship and transported through time to the end of the earth, some 2,000,000,000 years in the future. After a while, though, we got bored and asked to be taken back to our own time, which we were. I considered giving myself up to the police and begging for clemency, but I knew I didn't have a leg to stand on.
 
Posted by Timothy the Obscure (# 292) on :
 
So I stood on my hands, and walked slowly in what I believed was the direction of home. But as I passed through a dark wood, a pack of wolves burst out of the underbrush and scared the pants off me!
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
I am amazed at how outdoor clothing has advanced in the past few years. My pants breathe, cool, wick away moisture, protect against UV rays and respond to potentially dangerous situations by removing themselves from the wearer.

Freed from the extra weight of my pants, I ran like the wind!
 
Posted by Gwai (# 11076) on :
 
Unfortunately it wasn't a very breezy day, so running like the wind wasn't running very fast. The wolves took me for prey and followed, running much faster. Fortunately, an elderly hermit opened his door to me before the wolves caught me. "Oh thank you, Father," I said, "I was on death's doorstep!"
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
'Hello Death', I said, 'Very pleased to meet you'. He invited me in and sat me down in a very comfortable chair. In fact it was so comfortable, I started to doze off. In only a few moments, I was transported to the Land of Nod.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Well! I exclaimed looking around, " Have you lived here long?" He nodded in reply.
Nice place you have here I continued, and he continued to nod, so sensing a theme here, I tried a more obscure question.. " Were you once married to Elizabeth Taylor? I enquired, as he nodded in assent, Yeah right! and I'm a monkey's uncle I muttered.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Which reminded me: I took out the photo I kept in my wallet and looked at it glumly. But no, my banana-munching nephew grinned back, swinging gaily by one hand from the branch, his academic robes fluttering in the breeze. He was a nice fellow despite his looks and it had been a proud day for the family when he got his degree. If a slightly less proud one when one day he brought home what he said was his fiancee - she had a face that would stop a clock.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Which was unfortunate, since none of us owned a watch, so, as far as we knew it was forever a quarter to four. But living in a perpetual afternoon has its compensations, such as Tea. I sighed now, as I thought of those happy days. Life was just a piece of cake.

[ 27. August 2009, 19:35: Message edited by: Firenze ]
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
Owing to a small nuclear incident at the bakery, however, the cake turned out to have, in fact, not a life but a half-life of precisely .00002 nanoseconds and vanished in a singular anomaly before you could say*Battenburg*. I mused on the unfair and surreal train of events the morning. After a short, but rather enjoyable, spell of self-pity, I found my resolve once more, for this indulgence wasn't getting the baby's bonnet knitted.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
And weren't they all surprised to see me knitting tiny little garments, booties, and other baby things! Nasty rumors were whispered. Delicate questions were asked and evasively answered. But I,smiling and delighted, was over the moon.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
Sure, I held a torch for that old devil moon for a long time, until he sneered and said he didn't really need the extra light. We'll, screw him;I don't need to deal with him and his crazy cycles anymore.

And...I've got the baby to look forward to. The apple of my eye.
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
I'd always been told I had big eyes, but I'd never thought they would accommodate an apple. I soon discovered the apple in question was a particularly sharp Granny Smith, and soon I was weeping buckets.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Weeping Buckets was the name given to me by my father who was an old Red Indian Chief. My mother who had aspirations toward greatness and of social snobbery in our small community insisted on the pronounciation BooKets. However, I felt that this was the time to return to my roots and accept who I really am. Wooo! I feel better already All I need to do is tell mother my intention, but I sense already that she is going to blow a fuse.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Which is the sort of thing which happens if your mother is an early model electric-powered Robomum. But I loved her battered old tin face. Just thinking about it tugged at my heartstrings.
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
Too bad my heartstrings were in the hands of a genius puppet master. He had kidnapped my heart and nearly made a clean getaway, but I've held onto those last two strings ever since. It's been quite a game of tug-of-war. I'm about to throw in the towel.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
It's kind of a therapeutic thing, actually, that my counselor reccommeded. I would threw the towel, representing my life, into the air,--and out of my control--where it opened, blossomed, unfolded into something beautiful and surprising and precious!

I found this both absorbing and transforming. When the towel fell to the earth the last time, I was ready to give my heart again, with no strings attached.

[ 28. August 2009, 13:56: Message edited by: Nunzia ]
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
However, unstringing my heart would probably be a fairly complicated procedure involving several surgeons and considerable expense, which I didn't think was worth it. Instead, I headed off to a wine bar, and looked down the wine list with the intention of working my way down it if I had to, just so long as I found the perfect one. It didn't take too long, though: within a couple of minutes I was happily sampling a rather nice glass of wine with an equally nice bouquet and then another. Before long I was three sheets to the wind.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
And a good thing too, as with all the goings-on, I was totally behindhand with my laundry. Leaving the bedlinen snapping merrily in the breeze, I considered what else needed doing. That cooker could use some elbow grease.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I searched high and low for the darned stuff, but in the end I had to settle for axle grease... Mother said it was no good - I would have to call in professional cleaners blah blah blah until I told her to put a sock in it.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
I had to do a load of laundry, so not only did I put a sock in (hoping its mate might appear), but filthy jeans, T-shirts, underwear, the whole basketful. I had spent the whole afternoon on the phone with my girlfriends, dishing the dirt.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
All this laundry was tiring, which is why, when it came to mealtime, a plate of earth was all I could throw together. "It's totally organic!" I assured my dubious guests. But I could tell they were in two minds.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
It's quite hard to think when you have a guest in your mind. And even worse when the person with whom you are trying to hold a conversation also has a guest in theirs. It's rather like one of those old 'party line' telephones where you have a sneaking suspicion that all your neighbours can hear what you are saying. It's enough to drive you completely round the bend.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
So, having been driven round the bend, I found myself looking at a really pretty little olde-worlde village with a typical country pub. It had long trestle tables outside, and a nice view of the village green. People seemed to be enjoying themselves. The only thing that came close to spoiling it was a dog in one of the gardens nearby, which was barking its head off.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Fortunately once its head fell off it was quiet again. I gingerly walked past the grisly scene and entered the pub. I was asked by a buxom waitress what I'd like to drink, and I replied I didn't care what, I was dry as a bone.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
You know, you looked familiar to me, and then it struck me where I'd seen you before. Yes, at the Art Gallery! When I mentioned it to you, that I had seen your portrait, you let loose a torrent of complaint about how PO'd you were about always working for peanuts.
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
It was such fun working for Peanuts, laying out the cartoon strips in order so that Charlie Brown, Linus, Snoopy and the rest were all in the right place. As for that nice Mr. Schulz, he was the Boss from Heaven ...
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
As he must needs have been, being in Heaven himself. Occasionally he let it be known what he wanted, through dreams and visions, and we carried on his work as best we could. I'm afraid however that compared to Mr Schulz, we made a dog's breakfast of the strip.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
As you can probably imagine, this went down about as well as expected. We put it outside, and precisely a few minutes or so later, the dogs in the neighbourhood had sniffed it out and were enjoying tucking into their meal. Even the headless dog from a few posts ago had recovered sufficiently to get its head back on straight and enjoy it. Although I'm sorry to say it lost its head again over who should have the last piece of toast.
 
Posted by Golden Key (# 1468) on :
 
After I reattached the doggy's head with chewing gum, waterproof super glue, and duct tape, I sent it off to Snoopy's buddy, Spike, who is running an intervention program in the desert for dogs with head attachment issues. They tend to keep their feelings bottled up.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
Placing a feeling in a bottle is kind of a folk art for those California desert dogs, one which calls for a delicate paw and painstaking patience. Spike showed me his own collection with obvious pride, the first exhibit.

"Now here's jealousy; this one took me years of work!" he beamed, cradling a lightly tinted green bottle.

But I'm always uncomfortable with displays of emotion, and soon found myself walking on pins and Needles.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
Yes, pins, needles, hundreds of spools of thread, snips of fabric, lace, all from my sewing basket that got turned over and spilled. My goodness, those things roll for ever. And I've found lots of pins by walking around in my bare feet. Company's coming over in a few hours, and this place is a pig-pen !
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Have you ever tried to shift a Gloucester Old Spot that doesn't want to shifted? It's really very tiring. With only a hour to go before my guests arrived, I was totally wiped out.
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
My erasure from the scenario meant my guests were going to have to fend for themselves. Deleted, too, was my perfectly-prepared tofu souffle and sun-dried antelopes' whiskers. The guests, tho, were not fussed, they were so hungry when they arrived, they could've eaten a scabby horse.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
The guests wondered where I was, when they arrived. It wasn't my fault I'd become invisible, but I cleverly laid a trail of toast crumbs for them to follow while I searched for my 'wiping back in again' medicine. Phew, that was better! Now my guests could see me they were happy as Larry.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
<"scabby horse"... "happy as Larry"? what the hey? You're making these things up !>
The Complaint Department of Complainature
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Larry was sitting in the corner giggling helplessly and wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. I took one look at the scabby horse that had been lined up for my guests to snack on, and wondered what kind of side salad I should serve.

"Side salad," gasped Larry and rolled around helpless with mirth. I didn't know what he was on, but he was clearly as high as a kite.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Pearl B4 Swine:
<"scabby horse"... "happy as Larry"? what the hey? You're making these things up !>
The Complaint Department of Complainature
No, both phrases have been round for a while, but maybe they haven't travelled across the sea.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
When just then a bolt of lightning flashed, and a clap of thunder shattered the windows. Through the broken glass we could see old Ben smouldering like a pillar of charcoal, his kite still flying high up in the thundercloud from whence had come mighty Jupiter's message to mankind. "Quick!" Lady Plimpton exclaimed. "Batten down the hatches, or we'll all be lost at sea!"
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
It just so happened that I had a batten in my hand, sometimes this gift of intuition can literally save lives.. I am so blessed. However I realise that I have become selfish in my quest for personal survival and that I should extend my super powers for the benefit of those who are less fortunate. Indeed the moment had arrived for me to turn over a new leaf.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Ah, Spring! What a blessed time for those of us looking for new leaves to turn over! However, it was autumn, so - quick thinking as ever - I found a supermarket selling potted herbs, and quickly flipped a basil or two. "Phew!" I exclaimed "a stitch in time saves nine!"
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Stitching basil leaves being a specialty of mine, having picked up all the pins and needles previously spilled in the desert. So I went back to my dinner guests, who were watching a television show and were in stitches.
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
... unlike the inhabitants of the Sunshine Nudist Colony along the road, who hadn't a stitch on. Unfortunately for them, the temperature had dropped to -2°C, and it was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
Whereupon Lady Plimpton's most prized statue, a brass monkey which she had smuggled out of deepest Africa in the folds of her ample bosom, dropped its testicles with a resounding thud. "I say," Lord Mugglesworth exclaimed, "how capital!" "Oh, has the conversation turned to geography?" the dowager princess asked. "In that case," she continued, "why are we carrying coals to Newcastle?"
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
I looked up and sure enough, we were on a collier train headed straight for the heart of Newcastle. I pulled on the chain but nothing happened. It became clear that we three were the only people on the train, neither conductor nor engineer were anywhere to be seen. Truly, our goose was cooked.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Which presented us with something of a dilemma, as it smelt delicious, but with a runaway train rapidly hurtling out of control, it wasn't the best time to sit down and enjoy eating it. Besides, we had no vegetables, cutlery, plates, wine, glasses, napkins, dessert or even a butler to help us along. In short, we were stuck on the horns of a dilemma.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
One of a herd of dilemmi which were being transported to Newcastle Zoological Gardens in one of the trucks. Quick as a flash, we unlocked the doors and the fearless beasts leaped from their captivity, carrying us on their backs. It was an exhilarating experience, as we galloped over the Northumbrian countryside, hell for leather.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And with a puff all of our leather departed for the nether regions, leaving us in varying states of uncladness. We brought the dilemmi to a halt and dismounted, and set off to find the nearest place for a pint, as we were all thirsty by now. And the sun beat down upon us until we were nearly delirious from the heat. You could have fried an egg on the sidewalk.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"I told you they had no need for coal in Newcastle," the dowager princess exclaimed triumphantly. "They can easily do their cooking on the pavement." "With all due respect, Your Highness," Lady Plimpton interjected, "it all seems so very unsanitary, doesn't it?" "Go on, the lot of you," a dustman remarked. "The streets of Newcastle are as clean as a whistle!"
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
My whistle* was, in fact, in need of the dry-cleaner's arts as the hell for leather chase had left it decidedly grubby. I set off to Mrs Anvil's All-Nite Laundry, Invisible Menders and Alchemical Emporium. "Oh dearie me", said that worthy lady, "this will need one of our Special Operations - I hope you're paying cash - Lapis Philosophorum don't come cheap". "My good woman", said I, "just bung it through the washer - your Speculative Arcana is just pie in the sky".

*whistle and flute = suit. Cockerney Rhyming Slang innit [Biased]

[ 30. August 2009, 17:40: Message edited by: Jahlove ]
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And Mrs. Anvil reached out the window and pulled on a long line, attached to a small weather balloon with a gondola containing several varieties of pie. "No, the pie in the sky is for eating, not cleaning clothes with, dearie," she said. "The altitude gives it a special flavour. Care for a bite?" I had half a mind to try it.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Having half a mind to try it meant, of course, that I only half wanted to try half the pie, which admittedly smelt a bit high. But my decision was made for me as the sky went black as a monstrous crow flapped into sight, snatched up the pie, and was gone.

"I wish he'd stop doing that," Mrs Anvil said irritably, "every single time I have a pie out he goes for it and I'm beginning to feel really picked on." She went on at some length about this, until I was sure she had a chip on her shoulder.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Or maybe she was just wearing the current fashionable eighties revival look? Well, maybe. But the grease stains - as of a recently deep-fried vegetable - told a whole other story.
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
<sits down and makes self comfy for Whole Other Story - hears the Truth At Last about the necrophiliac obsession of the Prince in Snow White - goes [Eek!] . Dry-cleaning finished, I took my leave of Mrs Anvil and made my way to where the grass was greener.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Unfortunately the necrophiliac prince followed me. We arrived at the well-manicured lawns of the Greener Grass Park, and he caught up to me, and told me I was drop-dead gorgeous.
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
Nice that his dying words were a compliment to me. "Oh, dear," I thought to myself. "Now I'm guilty of yet another homicide." The train ride, the pie in the sky, the crow.... it was all making my head swim.

[ 30. August 2009, 21:12: Message edited by: Angel Wrestler ]
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Fortunately, my arms and legs did too. After a few recuperative lengths of the Newcastle Municipal Baths, I felt reinvigorated, and ready for a night on the town. Dressing in the approved fashion - a couple of elastoplasts and a few inches of dental floss - I set out to paint the town red.

[ 30. August 2009, 21:26: Message edited by: Firenze ]
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Unfortunately just as I opened my can of paint and got out my brush, the police finally caught up with me. They slapped the cuffs on me and hauled me off down to the precinct. I was in a cleft stick of my own making.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Sitting on the cleft stick was no joke while being manhandled into the police cell... as I bumped and bruised on the stone bench I realised not for the first time that I was between a rock and a hard place.
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
So I got out my Moh's Scale table and determined that the hard place was not QUITE as hard as the Rock. I then went into a reverie featuring The Rock but then awoke to find it was all just a pipe dream.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Piped dreams are a new mind-control technique being pioneered in the Newcastle area. I applied one of pieces of sticking plaster which made up the greater part of my attire to the end of the pipe, and was able to enjoy undisturbed slumbers. Until, that is, there was a banging on my cell door and a shout of "Rise and shine!"
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
"Rise and shine!" I exclaimed ecstatically. It was my favourite breakfast cereal. I waited eagerly for the door to open. Sometimes, life was a bowl of cherries.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"You didn't know that I was a fairy princess, did you?" cooed the dowager princess. As she said that, she waved her magic wand and we were all transported off to Traverse City, Michigan, which is indeed the cherry capital of the world. "Cherries?" spat Lady Plimpton. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!"
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
Unfortunately, Traverse City is not the horse-eating capital of the world; but by chance, our flight back across the Atlantic took us to France, which is. We were thus able to satisfy our equine/gastronomic cravings until the cows came home.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
But, boy were those cows angry when they got home! "How come you're eating horse?" they demanded. "Beef not good enough for you now?" And they raised such a ruckus as would wake the dead.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
So now we were surrounded by angry bovines and scarcely less annoyed revenants. It was enough to put me off my Filet Cheval aux Fine Herb. "Right, that's enough!" I shouted. "You can all just go and take a running jump!"
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I was completely overcome by the hive of activity as everyone began to stretch their legs and take to the sky in leaps and bounds. To be honest after my first misgivings I had to admit that it looked like a lot of fun and soon I was sucked into wanting to have a go myself. Unfortunately I was prevented from giving it a go as my feet were killing me.
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
Fortunately, my feet's attempted murder of myself hadn't progressed very far when some members of local law enforcement arrived. "What seems to be the trouble, miss?" one of them asked me. I paused a moment to consider how best to explain. At that point, my command of the English language failed entirely.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Luckily my Red Indian heritage came into its own at this point I swiftly lit a bonfire and with the aid of an old dogs blanket proceeded to attempt to communicate by means of smoke signals.
Unfortunately before I had got to the point I was trying to make the local fire brigade turned up and put the fire out with their hoses. With all that water sloshing around it made me desperate to spend a penny.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
It was finding anything that cost only 1d. that was the problem. Eventually I haggled a shopkeeper into selling me a single boiled sweet. Buoyed by the sugar rush, my mood began to lift. The future looked rosy.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
I complimented it on its fresh complexion, and it simpered. Sucking my boiled sweet, I moved swiftly away before it embarked on its recipe and no doubt recommendations for home-made face cream. I needed to think what to do next, and I couldn't decide immediately. I was going to have to sleep on it.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"That's quite enough," Lady Plimpton exclaimed. At my villa we'll sleep on mattresses, thank you very much, and not on anything else. "But, my dear, we're not at your villa," I replied. "In fact, where are we -- Michigan? France? Newcastle? I'm so confused I don't even know my own name!"
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
I needed some ID and fast. I searched for my wallet, but it was gone! My driver's license, credit cards, Insurance card, the photo of Sandy-wonderful Sandy-who I had met two nights ago in a bar and who had captured my heart...all gone!

What could I do now? I was beside myself.
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
I looked at myself and sighed - it was not a pretty sight. Quickly, I got out my hair brush and clothes brush and tarted myself, and my other self, up a bit. That looked a lot better. Together we would take on the world.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
We took on the world. Then we looked at each other and remembered that we'd had the weight of it on my shoulders some posts ago, and promptly put it down again before it flattened both of us to a pancake. After that, we both needed a drink. We headed for the nearest bar, but had forgotten how busy it could be: it was Piccadilly Circus in there.
 
Posted by Timothy the Obscure (# 292) on :
 
We leaped sideways to avoid being flattened by a Number 13 bus, then managed to catch the bartenders eye.

"That was a close call--I could use a stiff drink. Bartender, one gimlet and one screwdriver--make 'em doubles!"
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
So now we had four carpentry tools in front of us. For some reason, this didn't make me feel as good as I had hoped. In fact, I was pretty much down in the dumps.
 
Posted by Gwai (# 11076) on :
 
We sighed and looked up at the bouncer's departing back. Maybe we'd had a few too many drinks after all. I sighed, picked myself up out of the dump and turned to my other self, "Where are we?" He shrugged, "I don't know, but let's get out of here -- I'm burning up!"
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"Quick, douse yourself with this," said the dowager princess, as she handed me a pitcher of water. The cool liquid felt good on my charred skin. "Thanks, Your Highness," I replied. "Now I can honestly say I look as pretty as a picture!"
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Unfortunately, the picture was Guernica. I felt I just wanted to hide away from this cruel, capricious world. It would take a lot to bring me out of my shell.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
But I hadn't been a hermit crab for very long, and it was in fact quite easy to be parted from the conch shell I had taken for my home. The dowager princess threw it away and scolded me for my shyness. She really ripped me a new one.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Then a strange thing happened in front of my very eyes.... the Dowager princess suddenly began a weird dance with arms and legs flailing like a dervish as she spun round and around faster and faster. I dont know what had come over her, it was clear she had ants in her pants over something.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
At that point, Janus, the long-lost grandmother and my second self all rushed back upon the scene, having been given a lift by the ever-helpful man from Acme Kitchens, who seemed to spend his entire life sailing round giving people lifts. The man from the Kitchens took the princess away, and I have no idea what they did after that, but I heard recently that the ants were disposed of thoughtfully, and the couple are still together and very happy.

Meanwhile, Janus was looking around the bar in all directions at once. "Maybe we should go somewhere else," he said, "this is about as much fun as watching paint dry."

[ 01. September 2009, 17:29: Message edited by: Ariel ]
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I checked the schedule on the back of the tickets we purchased at the bar entrance. Acme All Action Adventure Inc. Things were gauranteed to happen it said so in the literature, however nothing seemed to be unfolding. There was nothing for it but to sit tight and keep our eyes peeled.
 
Posted by Firenze (# 619) on :
 
Which makes them painful and smarting - especially with all those paint fumes about. "I don't believe there is going to be a show tonight. I think the whole thing's dead in the water."
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
What's that? The Acme Aqua Life Restorer, comes in spray bottles. Guaranteed to reanimate things that have met their demise if they're still in the water. Unfortunately, I was as dry as a bone.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
Which is more than I can say for the dowager princess -- lying there on the bottom of the pond, motionless, dead ants floating all about her. I poured the remainder of the bottle of Acme Aqua into the pond, and lo and behold, up sprang the D.P., looking as young and fresh as she did at her coming out ball. Fortunately for us all, the ants seemed immune to the effects of Acme Aqua. But it was good news that the D.P. had been restored to us -- and we shouted it from the housetops!
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
When we got to the rooftop, there was a gale blowing and, although we shouted, "Hurrah, the Dowager Princess has come back to life!" as loudly as we could, our words fell on deaf ears in the howling wind.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
From my observation tower atop the not-too-large castle, in the dimming twilight, I could make out the frightening pack of wolves, howling and circling the compound. I feared for my life, and ran downstairs to the main floor to secure all the doors and windows, against the wind, and against the blood-thirsty wolves. The Dowager Princess was of no help, and she sat frozen with fear near the dwindling fire. As I frantically pulled the last door closed, I shouted at the approaching wolves, "What's your beef with us then, anyway?"
 
Posted by Timothy the Obscure (# 292) on :
 
The lead wolf said "We'll have nine 16-ounce T-bones, medium rare, two 12-ounce Porterhouse, rare, three filet mignons medium, and one New York Strip, barely singed. And fifteen orders of steak Tartare, with French Fries on the side."

I scribbled the orders, and asked, "Would you like anything to drink?"

The wolf said, "Anything you've got--I'm as dry as the Sahara."
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Whereupon he and his colleagues promptly blew away like so much sand on the wind. Linking arms with the Dowager Princess, the sink salesman, and the grandmother, we set off like Dorothy & co. down the yellow brick road. We were so delighted to be back together again, we were tickled pink.
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
Sad to say, the DP looks TERRIBLE in pink, and promptly requested a private room in which to change to a more becoming colour. While that was going on, the rest of us looked at the brochures that the Acme Sink salesman had been carrying about all this time. The salesman & the grandmother got into a particularly involved conversation about when to install a pedastal sink. Once again, such details bored me to tears!
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
I wandered off, drying my eyes, and out of the house, down the road, where a man in a long flowing black cloak was seated near a bus stop, playing a piano with extraordinary skill. It was immediately clear that he was a vampire, so naturally I got talking to him. I told him about my adventures to date. He said that it sounded like quite a lot of fun, and something he felt he could get his teeth into.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Honestly! There is no pleasing some people. All I asked was would he like a stake! There was no need to take it to heart.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I will learn to edit post. Appologies please delete my double post. Thank you.

[What double post? [Biased] ]

[ 04. September 2009, 17:31: Message edited by: Chorister ]
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
The vampire's heart fibrillated for what seemed like an eternity, but finally dissolved in a puff of ash. I thought it best to leave the stake in situ, however. Turning around to go back inside, who should I see but the archbishop! "The dowager princess told me," he exclaimed, "that you'd be spouting Latin to beat the band."

[ 02. September 2009, 22:59: Message edited by: Amanda B. Reckondwythe ]
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was quite upset when Latin words came spouting from my head in cartoon bubbles and floated over and punched them in the face. I didn't know what to do with the Bishop and the Dowager Princess looking on at this violent scene, so I just turned to them and said, "Strange day, isn't it?" "You're not just whistling 'Dixie'," replied the Dowager Princess.
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
Indeed I wasn't just whistling "Dixie", I was singing the words too: "Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton ..." and all of a sudden, due doubtless to the intervention of a kindly fairy, I found myself in what seemed exactly like the land of cotton. I was on Cloud Nine! [Yipee]
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And it had a big number "9" on the side, too, just like a Serta sheep. Fortunately as I was pondering how to get down, a guy in a lawnchair fastened to helium balloons stopped and gave me a lift (in a manner of speaking). I was as pleased as punch to be back on the ground.
 
Posted by churchgeek (# 5557) on :
 
Which is to say, I felt a bit of a let-down, like a puppet on the floor. Noticing this, the dowager princess removed her diamond-studded choker and put it around my neck. "Thank you, but I really can't accept that!" I protested. "It must be worth an arm and a leg!"
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
The DP threw her hands in the air and gasped aloud... How did you discover my secret she choked, and revealed that her left arm and right leg were in fact made of a remarkable material which at a distance was undetecatable from real flesh. Suddenly she was only half the woman I had thought her to be, however she still retained a heart of gold.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
And it looked fabulous! It was 24 kerat, solid except for the aorta and it was actually in the shape of a valentine heart. Beautiful as it was, it was much too heavy and put a terrible strain on the rest of her system.

I knew that if she didn't get a nice ordinary meat heart, she would soon find herself at the jumping off place.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"Good-bye, cruel world," she uttered, and the dowager princess disappeared off the edge of the cliff, never to be seen again. "Gracious sakes," exclaimed Lady Plimpton, "whoever will succeed to her title?" "Perhaps it's for the best," the archbishop opined. "I always thought the D.P. should shit or get off the pot."

[ 03. September 2009, 22:34: Message edited by: Amanda B. Reckondwythe ]
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
I was shocked at the bishop's language and I thought to myself, "I'm not going there!"
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
And that's exactly what happened. Every time I tried to go "there" it became "here". Hundreds of tries later, and I'm still here, and always will be. You can count on me.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Suddenly a dozen small furry creatures scampered onto my shoulders and started counting loudly. "ONE one thousand TWO one thousand" came their shrill little voices. But not in unison, oh no! Their babble was so loud you couldn't hear yourself think.
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
But it's okay that I couldn't hear myself think, as the wannbe psychic down the hall could. It would have been embarrassing, except that the fake mind-reader apparently can't understand the Sgt Pepper dialect of Latin. So I decided to try moving around to get the furry creatures off of my shoulders. I soon found I was going around in circles.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
Which sounded suspiciously like the late D.P.'s incessant trips between her throne in the morning room at the palace and, erm, the other throne. However, we're not going there. The archbishop emerged from the confessional, having been shriven of his egregious lapse of good taste, only to find swarms of furry creatures scampering all about the cathedral. "It's like a zoo in here!" he exclaimed.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I hurriedly made myself useful, and herded small furry creatures into the vestry and hung a notice outside saying " Pets Corner " I knew that the Sunday School children would be thrilled.
I was more unsure what to do with the wilderbeast and rhino that were busy tearing up the pews, and leaving large deposits in the nave. I ran to the Bishop for advice but he could not hear me above the loud mooing and lowing then I noticed that the main reason he could not hear me was the fact that he had his mobile phone glued to his ear.
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
Fortunately, it wasn't attached using that permanent epoxy adhesive stuff. In fact, it was only attached with Duct Tape. Unfortunately, the tape was also stuck to what was left of his hair, so the tape removal left him as bald as a bowling ball.
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
"Bishop!" I exclaimed. "You're as bald as a bowling ball!"

"I don't believe it. Prove it to me." he said.

So I ran next door to the bowling alley and got a bowling ball. I set the bowling ball on the shelf in front of a mirror. "There! See for yourself."

The bishop settled his head next to the ball, gasped and said, "By jove, you're right!" Having proven my point, I grabbed the bowling ball to return it. I'd barely got outdoors when I noticed the bishop was hollering, "Sthop, thop! thath's my head you've got!" Embarrassed, I took my fingers out of his nostrils and mouth. I was beet red.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
"And I love borscht," said the Bishop, slavering over my fingers. "Call the curate, and he'll chop, you, sauté you, and zap you till the juice runs out." This was altogether too much.I dropped him hurriedly and ran for my life.

[ 05. September 2009, 16:59: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Scooping up my life under one arm, I made a quick exit. I was getting out of there as fast as I could, away from all these weird people. I glanced at my watch: if I could keep up the pace I could just make it to the airport in time for a plane to Africa, and leave all this behind. I ran like hell.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!" screeched Lady Plimpton just as I was about to pass through the security checkpoint. Little did I know that her current paramour was head of security at the airport. Lady P. bared her teeth at the hapless guard on duty and that was the end of my travel plans. "All dressed up with no place to go!" I thought to myself.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And I was no place at all. There was no airport, no Lady Plimpton, no nothing. I looked around and began to get frightened. "I'm really in hot water now!" I said.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
Which was great, because after all the excitement the one thing I needed was a good long bath. As I luxuriated in the tub, I thought I saw something at the window. A bowling ball, I thought to myself? No, the bishop -- who would have guessed that His Grace was a peeping Tom?
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
But it was true - Thomas wasn't a clergyman at all - and looking closer, it was clear that he was just an optical illusion. And meanwhile here I was in this bath in the middle of nowhere, but at least the water was sufficiently hot and enjoyable. Although, as I swiftly discovered, I didn't have any towels, or indeed any clothes, and what I'd thought was a window wasn't, as there weren't any rooms. Which meant I was in a bit of a pickle.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Now pickle-shaped bathtubs are a rarity, and the one I was bathing in was no exception. But as I sat there, landscape slowly came into view, followed by the walls of a rather nice late Victorian manse. Soon a towel and a perfectly serviceable set of well-fitting clothes were available, and I availed myself of them. Walking out the front door, I thought to myself, "Now I'm living the life of Riley."
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
...who materialised with a bang and a whiff of sulphur. "That's my life, my suit, my bath and this is my house -get out!" he roared. Thanking my stars that I'd actually got dressed before this intrusion, I faced up to him. "Who do you think you are?" I snarled sarcasticlly, "God's gift to the universe?"

[ 05. September 2009, 22:47: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
Silently and triumphantly he pointed to a tag, tied to a pink ribbon which dangled from his wrist.

"To my dear sweet uni, with unconditional love. Your Creator xxxxxxx!!!!" it read in large flowing letters.

The i in "uni" was dotted with a smiley face. This went against all my preconceptions of God, and my world came crashing down around me.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
I was ill prepared to withstand the onslaught of debris denerated by the collapse of the entire world, especially as Riley had forced me to hand over all my clothes. But I drew myself into the fetal position and waited until the last mountain had come tumbling down about me. I actually enjoyed the fetal position -- I felt as snug as a bug in a rug.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
I found myself eye to eye with a small black beetle who winked at me and said "My, this rug is really quite snug, isn't it, though, if I'm honest, you being in here with me makes it rather too snug for comfort. You do take up rather a lot of space, and your lack of clothing isn't really appropriate for communal sleeping conditions." I was so embarrassed that you could have fried an egg on my face.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
You could certainly have fried an egg on my face, but it wasn't up to bacon, and there didn't seem to be making any way of toast on any part of my anatomy, so thankfully I abandoned the attempt. I glared at the bug and told it firmly, "I was here first."

The bug was completely unrepentant and reminded me that size wasn't everything. "You may be bigger than me," it said, "but there's no need to throw your weight around."
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
At this timely reminder of my size and weight advantage, I uncoiled myself from the foetal position, drew myself up to my full height, and prepared to demolish him. It had to be a him, his irritation quotient was a dead givaway. "Die, buglet," I crooned through my teeth. Then I threw myself on him like a ton of bricks.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
But since brick don't have the power of self-locomotion there was no effect.

The bug looked at me wide-eyed, and said, "Can't we be friends?" I though about it. This story could use a lovable sidekick and a cute little bug might just fill the bill.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
And so I flagged down a passing pelican, whose bill was quite nicely filled by Mr. Bug. "Ummm, delicious!" the pelican remarked. "So much for the appetizer; what's the entree going to be?" I must confess that the thought of supplying gourmet meals for a pelican had me on pins and needles.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
"Late," I yowled, hopping from foot to foot in some pain, "but if you're in a hurry, you might try the Pelican Cafe round the corner. They cater for hungry, impatient birds."

"Do you think I might be able to get a bug burger special?" the pelican said hopefully, "with chips, a salad with extra tomato but no onion, and a blue cheese dressing on the side?"

"They do it all the time," I assured him, and watched as the happy pelican shot round the corner like a speeding bullet.
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
The pelican was bent totally out of shape as he first hit a parked Bentley and richocheted off several lamp-posts and a passing meter maid. The car's owner and the lovely Rita were not looking overly amused at this disruption of their day's plans. Not to mention the pelican who sat squawking his annoyance upside-down on the kerb. "Oh dear", I said to myself, "time to face the music".
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
I turned around, and there, behind me (well, in front of me now), was a full symphony orchestra, blaring Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" in my face. Having faced the music for a bit, I hurried off to find some clothes, as I was freezing my ass (arse) off.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
I'd tried diet and exercise. Liposuction was too expensive, and so I went for a new procedure called cryoculodemantecactomy. It literally freezes the fat out of your butt! The result is wonderful, but the process isn't exactly my cup of tea.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Tea oh my! I realised I had had nothing to eat or drink all day. Me and my new best friend the dented pelican set off for the cafe. A funny thought struck me as we walked in through the front door to the delicious smell of hot buttered toast... "Do Bakers make bread because they knead the dough?" I asked the pelican.
He returned my musings with a blank stare and a vacant look, it was clear the lights were on but there was no-one home.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And indeed the pelican wasn't at home anywhere he went. He soon recovered his composure and we walked arm in wing into the cafe. We found a table and ordered lunch when the waitress came back to tell us our sandwiches would be a while: the bread wasn't done baking yet. We were gobsmacked.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
When we were done with smacking our gobs, we realised that we were starving and needed food NOW we just couldnt wait for the bread to be cooked, thats when my eye fell upon the rock cakes stacked on the counter.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
This was very embarrassing. I retrieved my eye from the rock cake and asked the waitress if we might have a slice. "I never knew you had a glass eye," said the pelican. "It only comes out at night," I explained. "Can we keep this our little secret? I'd rather you didn't let the cat out of the bag."
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
But it was too late. The pelican peeped into the bag but the bag was empty. That ferocious feline was loose on the streets again and we had no way of finding it. Now we were in a pickle.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
And it was huge! We'd never be able to eat our way out.

"Hey!", I cried from the briny deep, "What's the big dill?"

Then I realized that only worked with an American accent, and I didn't want to start a pond war.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Sadly it was too late, the pond war had already started. The low life leeches and amoeba were in pitch battle, while the toads were hurling boulders from the safety of their lily pads.
It was all too much for Isaac the little amphibian who had taken to drink.. he truly was as pissed as a newt.
 
Posted by aggg (# 13727) on :
 
Which confused me, given that my extensive research of amphibians suggests they have an aversion to alcohol. With these thoughts in mind, I continued to walk along the pavement minding my own business. Presently, I stopped at the window of a small teashop. "My, I said "I'd give my hind teeth to eat one of those cakes!"
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Sadly, the shop only accepted cash. The Pelican didn't understand my grief. "Come on mate," he remarked cheerfully, " no need for you to get your knickers in a twist. "

[ 07. September 2009, 11:01: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
But twisted they were, and it hurt like heck. I looked around hoping to duck into a nearby alley to untwist them but there were no alleys to be seen. I asked but the teashop had no loo. Either I was going to have to go about all day with twisted knickers, or change them in public in broad daylight. I was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
Luckily he was toting a huge beach towel. We cut a deal, and he held up the towel while I untwisted my knickers. What a relief!

Maybe it wasn't worth selling my soul, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
Just then I turned a corner and what loomed before me but the dreaded bridge. I went to reach into my pocket for the toll, but remembered I was wearing nothing except my knickers -- and they had no pockets! "Aren't you a friend of the bishop?" the toll collector asked, apparently recognizing me. "Go right on through," he continued, "You're home free!"
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
The smile upon my face said it all, after all the trials and tribulations of the last few days I was home... Home!... even the sound of it was music to my ears and I began to sing.
I gazed upon those green green grasses as my heart leapt and tears welled in my eyes... but my silent appreciation was ruined by the sound of screaming, and I came face to face with an hysterical woman who pointed to my undressed state as she screamed "your all mouth and no trousers".
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Well certainly the all trousers part was true, but as I went to demonstrate that the all mouth was not, I found that I was, indeed, all mouth. My drawers promptly dropped off. Soon I was able to recover the rest of my body, and my drawers. And lo! a pair of trousers appeared out of nowhere. "Well," I said, "I really landed on my feet this time."
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
(oops make that "no trousers")
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
But oh, did my feet hurt, not used to the strain of landing. I wanted nothing more than to sit down in one of the plush armchairs in Lady Plimpton's drawing room and put my feet up on one of her velvet hassocks. The day had worn on, and evening was at hand; the stars were coming out. That old familiar song from my childhood began to rush through my head: "When you wish upon a star . . ."

[ 07. September 2009, 17:30: Message edited by: Amanda B. Reckondwythe ]
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
But first I had to get on a star so I could wish on it.

I rushed off to busk in the nearest subway, and within an hour had scraped together the fare to America. Before the evening was out, I had arrived at NASA's headquarters demanding to be launched into space so I could wish upon a star. I met with quite a mixed reception, from laughter to annoyance - one person actually gave me a rocket.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
I scrambled into the rocket and away from the raging shouts of the person who gave it to me. All my mixed feelings unmixed to pure joy as I found the rocket had launched itself into space and I was heading for the stars.

But...weren't stars kind of unhealthily hottish? I had gone from the frying pan into the fire!
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
And here's where that bargain I had made with the devil (remember the knickers and the beach towel?) came in handy. As my rocket landed on Betelguese, who should appear at the gate to greet me but Old Scratch himself. "Here's an asbestos suit for you," he said, thus solving the problem of the excessive heat and my nakedness (save for the knickers) at the same time. Now my only problem was what to do on Betelguese -- it seemed an incredibly dull place, as though they had rolled up the sidewalks.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
But thanks to the help of my new fiend I was able to unroll one of them, and find hidden behind it an actual patisserie, into which I strolled and ordered a slice of fairy cake and a cuppa. But Betelgeuse tea isn't the same as tea back on Earth. Soon I had a case of the green apple two-step.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
It's much simpler than a 12 steps program. Just admit you eat too many green apples, and stop eating them for Pete's sake.

"I wish I hadn't drunk that tea", I said and immediately went back in time several star hours.

Would all my wishes come true on this star? I had to take a leap of faith.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
And Splash! there I was, drowning in the Sea of Faith. "I don't believe it," burst from me before I could think of the consequences. And immediately the Sea of Faith had vanished like a dream in the night.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
I woke up screaming. "There, there," the dowager princess said, "it's all been just a bad dream. But I'd better call the bishop just in case." "Yes, please, Your Highness, the bishop," I replied. "I've got a lot to get off my chest."
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And indeed there was a lot on my chest. 415 South Monroe Street, to be precise. With the bishop's help we removed it and got on the spaceship for home. "Boy will I be glad to be home. I'm so looking forward to being back to Earth, I can almost taste it."
 
Posted by churchgeek (# 5557) on :
 
Blech! That taste of earth turned out to be the Archbishop tossing dirt on me. My sleep had been so deep, all my companions had thought I was dead. But now the dream's spell on me was gone. I had never left the earth; but I had only escaped being buried alive by the skin of my teeth!
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Reaching hastily for the nearest toothbrush, I scrubbed said teeth to get the taste of earth out of my mouth. "Is graveyard earth tainted?" I thought to myself. "Probably," came the reply."Better go to A&E to be checked out." I headed off like a streak of lightning.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
"The trouble with streaks of lightning is the damage they sometimes cause," I muttered to myself as the hospital burst into flames around me. My earth-stained teeth were clearly of little significance to the nurses and doctors who were frantically trying to evacuate the building and seemed reluctant to pay me any attention whatsoever. In frustration I hit the door with my fist, and promptly smashed the safety glass in the window. I was a walking disaster area.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Within quite a short space of time scientists had gathered round me, eager to see this curiosity who had small local earthquakes in the nether regions, floods in the upper and a wildfire crackling away in my hair. Within an even shorter space of time, I'd been offered a highly lucrative contract at the local circus. I deliberated about whether to take it or not. I wasn't too keen on my current condition, to put it mildly, but it was money for jam.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Stationary cupboards hold stationary, stock cupboards hold cupboards, so I was not suprised to find a door marked "Disaster Cupboard" as I was hurriedly bundled inside by a distracted nurse.
She quickly locked the door behind her, and I was left alone to survey all the disasters that this cupboard could contain. Fire, famine, earthquake, and tsunami all seemed to be correctly labelled and carefully stored, I wandered along each row searching for "Walking Disaster" in order to wait patiently for my turn, when I realised that there was no space with my label on it, and that I was the only walking disaster to be held. A long uncertain future pacing the 10ft x 18ft store room lay ahead and at that point, when all I wanted was a nice long rest I would have given anything to be left on the shelf.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
The only trouble was, that I hadn't any jam. Sure, the volcano in my chest was of sufficient heat to boil sugar with ease, but the famine in my earlobes and drought in my toes meant that fruit and sugar were in short supply. I decided that the only option was to seize the cash and make a run for it. And before you, dear reader, condemn me for my decision, you should first walk a mile in my shoes.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Will you get the hell out of my shoes, dammit? I didn't mean you to try! Go barefoot if you must, or rob a cyber store. Just go jump in the lake!
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
It took me a while to find a suitable lake, but a quick 11 hour train journey later I'd arrived at a suitably scenic one - well, I wasn't going to jump into an ugly one full of shopping trolleys and other debris - and jumped in it. It was the answer to all my problems! The wildfire in my hair went out, the drought in my toes ceased immediately, and I hadn't felt this good in years. I was feeling a completely new person.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
It was lucky, really, that this new person I was feeling didn't object. My behaviour was, perhaps, a little forward but after the events of the day I was not sure of the correct etiquette for situations such as landing on an attractive stranger in deep water. And needs must when the Devil drives.
 
Posted by Gwai (# 11076) on :
 
Of course, if the devil hadn't been "helping out," maybe I would have done better with Attractive Person. As soon as he got out of the car, she called her lawyer to ask about damages for a lawsuit. Upon his advice, she yelled "Rape!" and proceeded to slap me silly.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
I got so silly I started doing really goofy things. I'm too embarrassed to mention what they were. Needless to say she hauled me into court, where the judge threw the book at me.
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
I caught it with one hand. Entitled *What My Barrister Tort Me*, it proved jolly useful and I got off on a technicality, arguing, and the jury agreed, that compared to the heinous acts already committed in the state of New Upthread, this latest misdemeanour was indeed, small potatoes.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
I went with basket in hand, out to the kitchen garden, at our lovely country home, "Misty Manor". I found a good quantity of tiny potatoes, some reasonably straight carrots, a few onions, and a variety of fresh fragrant herbs.

I intended to put these with a bit of beef, and took down a well-used cookery book for guidance. Three hours later, the Lord of Misty Manor came in for his supper, with none being cooked, and he looked furious when I said to him, "Sorry, I got side-tracked".
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
"For heaven's sake," said the Lord testily, "Even if we have been run into a siding, is that a reason not to bring a picnic? Yet again there's no dinner.I'm sick of the way you play fast and loose with your responsibilities."
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
I looked at my back-up band and shrugged. Under our stage name-Captain Diligence and the Responsibilities--we did the elementary school assembly circuit, singing songs about the virtues of hard work and discipline.

Sure we sold ourselves as a character-building act to the folks who cut our checks, but let me tell you, musically we kicked ass.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Indeed it was part of our stage show -- we brought out an old donkey and (pretended to) kick it. The kids loved it, although I shudder to think what it was teaching them about animal cruelty. But be that as it may, the Lord was standing over me demanding his dinner. He had transfixed me in his withering gaze.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"And withering is not good for the skin, as any princess knows!" opined the dowager princess. If truth be told, I was so withered and wrinkled that I must have looked a million years old. "Here, try some of this," added the D.P., handing me a bottle of lotion. "One application," she continued, "and you'll have skin as soft as a baby's."
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
The last thing I wanted was an attack of nappy rash, so I declined the offer. In any case, I wasn't going to take advice from dead people, as everyone knows they're notoriously unreliable and chronic liars.

At that point the Acme Kitchens salesman sailed past my window again - or was he really a sailsman? - which was quite a feat, as he was on dry land. I couldn't help noticing how smart he looked; he was dressed up to the nines.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
The bad thing, however, was that his tens, elevens and twelves were quite uncovered, and flapping in the breeze! If you know what I mean.

Speaking of uncovered, at the staff meeting yesterday, Madame Pastor had on a filmy blouse, which gaped open a good bit when she leant the least bit over, revealing much cleavage and surrounding area --in fact you could see all the way to China!
 
Posted by Joyeux (# 3851) on :
 
After such a pointed demonstration of the poor grasp the generally education has on geography, I was inspired as to my instructional calling: lighting hit my brain!
 
Posted by aggg (# 13727) on :
 
This often happens in buildings where there is insufficient care of maintenance of lighting fixtures I've noticed. So the next thing I knew, I was on the way to Ikea to find the right lightbulb. I decided to visit the cafe as I needed a shot in the arm.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
They're pretty trigger-happy in the cafe, and before I could swill back my Americano, I had been shot in the arm. "Why I thought I needed this, I don't know " I pondered aloud" I need this like I need a hole in the head"

The armed, caffeine-crazed drifter at the next table pricked up his ears at that, and I knew it was time to leave. It had been far too eventful a day, and I longed to be bored to death.
 
Posted by aggg (# 13727) on :
 
Fortunately a distraught bull inexplicably on the loose inside Ikea was happy to oblige and I took a horn in the belly. My last thought was 'oh goodie'.

I had clearly had my chips.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
And they were delicious, as befits a last meal. But..if I'm dead, doesn't that mean the thread dies too? It's only six pages...too young to die!

But then isn't it better to go quickly, than to drift on pointlessly for pages and pages with no quality of life, until an overworked host sighs and finally pulls the plug?

[ 09. September 2009, 14:56: Message edited by: Nunzia ]
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
I realised that I was simply over tired and a little run down, I knew deep down that the world was my oyster, but right now it was clear that I couldnt see beyond the end of my nose.
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
Which proved, beyond reasonable doubt, that I was (a) not lying and (b) not made of wood. Which was a relief after the REALLY hard couple of days I'd been experiencing. Who can blame me for going out, painting the town red and rolling home three sheets to the wind?*


*two for the price of one, there, folks.
 
Posted by Pooks (# 11425) on :
 
Just when I was pretty pleased with my handiwork in painting the town red, I heard a deep cough behind me and a menacing voice said ‘What’s all this?’ I turned around and saw that it was the local bobby with knitted eyebrows looking at me disapprovingly. He promptly hauled me to court and the local magistrate, who had no aesthetic taste for red, ruled that I should un-paint the town red as punishment for my crime. Since I didn’t have the time to wipe the slate clean, I prayed to the Almighty to let it rain cats and dogs so the evidence of my sin would be washed away.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Immediately my prayer was answered and a violent storm of cats and dogs began showering down on all and sundry, though it was hardly as effective as I'd hoped in clearing off all the red paint. In fact quite the opposite, as the darned cats insited on walking through the paint trays and leaving a trail of bright red footprints everywhere they went, while the golden retrievers somehow turned into red setters and, feeling a soggy sensation around the socks, I looked down to find I had stepped in a poodle! Not wanting to be caught red-handed, I thrust the paintbrush into the hands of an innocent passerby, but the policeman was not so gullible as to fall for this red herring.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
"How did a herring come to have hands?" the policeman asked as the fish in question swam away with my paintbrush. The officer cuffed me and led me away to the black maria. There was nothing I could do but bite the bullet.
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
My hands were cuffed so I held the bullet from my arm in my teeth because I wanted to keep it for a memento of my rather adventurous life.

I was red-faced as I charmed my way out of being held under arrest and the cop unlocked the handcuffs and let me get back to painting. "Go on, get out of here!" he said.

So I hauled ass out of there.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
If you've ever tried to pull a donkey in a direction it doesn't choose to go, you'll know what a Herculean task this was. My instince was to run as fast as I could while the going was good, but my conscience told me it was unfair to make a bid for freedom while leaving the donkey in the clutches of the police. What didn't occur to me at the time was that this was the very same donkey that I had been pretending to kick earlier in this saga and it had been taken into protective custody at its own request. If I weren't careful I'd find myself with a pig in a poke.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
However, given my fateful relationship to the donkey, the RSPCA intervened, removed the pig from the poke, and rehomed it in a children's farm where it would get plenty of petting and never never never end up as the mainstaple of a breakfast bar. I heaved a sigh of relief. It had been a very close call.

[ 10. September 2009, 16:41: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
So close that my ear was still a bit deaf for several minutes after I'd put the mobile phone back in my pocket; still, the rest of me seemed to work OK so I was free to carry on.

Oddly enough, I rather missed the pig, which had been (and probably still was) a small, perky, intelligent Tamworth with a mind of its own and a half-eaten second-prize rosette that was a souvenir of some county show or other. But whether it missed me was another matter altogether. And given its inquisitive, active nature, I'd have the devil's own job keeping tabs on it.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
<double cross-post> I researched my 'answer' so long that I missed the opportunity to use it - you do realize that Pigs are my area of expertise !

So, you're getting it anyway.

The reason I was lugging around a portly pig in that large bag was that I was smuggling her into a jazz concert. She was hungry to hear some guys with "real chops" go at it. She had some music playing device going in that bag & I could hear this stuff, and her muttering & snorting, "Way Cool, man, Far OUT"
 
Posted by Angel Wrestler (# 13673) on :
 
"You can say THAT again!" I replied.
 
Posted by Pooks (# 11425) on :
 
“Way Cool, man, Far OUT!" I heard the voice say it again. “Alright, alright!” I replied crossly to the piggy that I believed God was using to tell me to go to the north pole, since that was the only place I could think of that was both cold all the way and far out from any direction. Still, as I had an affection for the cute and cuddly polar bears ever since I was a baby with a stuffed toy bear to snuggle up to, the thought of being able to hug a real polar bear was a rather appealing prospect. Thus cheered up, I decided that as long as I didn’t have an albatross around my neck, this was going to be great.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Suddenly, the ghost of the dowager princess appeared and pointed a ghostly finger at the necklace I didn't remember having on, a small golden albatross. This decided me: the pig and I would head for the south pole, where there were no polar bears. But it was going to take a while to get there; trudging this pig with me had given me a hitch in my getalong.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
It was awfully nice of those little dogies to give me a hitch. It was relaxing just to sit in the back seat, and I'd always wanted to see Wyoming.

But in retrospect, I think they did it for the pig. Some folks just have a soft spot for pigs.

[ 12. September 2009, 05:06: Message edited by: Nunzia ]
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
But, in fact, the soft spot is the golden squishy yolk of the fried egg which accompanies crisp, curling slices of breakfast bacon. Thoughts of toast and fresh coffee filled my mind. A flood of saliva took me by surprize. I turned to my fellow passenger, and regarded the pig with new eyes.

[ 12. September 2009, 11:52: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
'Was blind but now I see...', I sang to the startled pig. With truly amazing grace, I viewed the renewed world around me, delighted with my new laser-surgery-enhanced eyes. As well as pigs, sheep, cows and chickens, I could now see a farmer and his wife coming towards me. I deduced that, although the farmer was wise enough, his wife was several sandwiches short of a picnic.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
"I packed a picnic lunch for us all," she said, "but somebody has eaten several of the sandwiches already." She looked hard at the pig, which gazed back innocently. "I think that's my pig you have there," the farmer said, "Look at the tattoo inside its left ear." Sure enough, the tattoo said, "I am his pig." He had me dead to rights.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
I might have been dead to rights but I was live to lefts, so I made a quick exit in that direction, with a few sandwiches for later. It was a fine day and I decided to walk on and enjoy the fresh country air, and see where the road took me. There wasn't much traffic about, so it was all quite pleasant. About ten minutes later, I was passed by a cyclist going hell for leather.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
"Why Marvin," I said in surprize. "Fancy seeing you here. Who's guarding the shop down below?" "Why don't you climb aboard and see?" he replied. We're having a Hosts and Admin Fun Day. Lots of party games, and the losers will be hung out to dry."
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
I knew I should have played my joker on the Everlasting Sentences round. [Roll Eyes]
Ah well, being on the losing side and being hung out to dry wasn't all bad - we got to stay out in the sunshine, with a peg on our waistbands, while the others had to stay indoors to wash and tidy up. When we were let down again, someone suggested we all head off to the pub for a pint or two, to end the evening. For once we were all in agreement, as the night was yet young.
 
Posted by Jahlove (# 10290) on :
 
Will Young finished his set to almost universal booing for his elderly repertoire so, in fact, the night was not *young* but *old*. I was spending some well-deserved time in the bar when I got a call from Mrs Anvil to say that things were really kicking off at the laundry and could I come round and pour oil on troubled waters?
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
But the oil just made the water extra-slippery. Remembering the haunting lyric to Will Young's last song, "You can walk but you can't skate," I walked as gingerly as I could. Perhaps a pair of skates would have helped after all. But I had no way of getting a pair, and eventually my feet flew out from under me.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
As I watched my feet fly away, I wondered if I'd ever see them again. Thankfully they soon got tired and flew back, eager to be connected to the arteries again. With my feet reattached, I decided to head for bed. As tired as I was, I was sure I would sleep like a rock.
 
Posted by Timothy the Obscure (# 292) on :
 
Which I did--I had no idea that plate tectonics could be so disturbing. Every time a fault somewhere slipped a millimeter I woke up. I finally gave up and hit the streets, just as the rosy fingers of dawn were probing through the early mists...
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
"Oooh, er.. Dawn!" I giggled as her rosy fingers appeared through the mists and made contact with my most ticklish spot just as I was bending down to hit the road. The pain in my fist from making contact with the concrete was soon forgotten as Dawn continued her probing and found all my most ticklish spots, leaving me a crumpled giggling gibbering wreck on the floor, writhing in an exquisite agony. She was merciless and I was putty in her hands.
 
Posted by Stejjie (# 13941) on :
 
So much did I enjoy Dawn's hands that I failed to notice her double-glazing van. Suddenly I was being attached to the window frame and a piece of uPVC was heading my way!! I managed to wriggle myself out just in time. Having regained a vaguely human shape, I decided to hit the bar till I got plastered.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Indeed, it was a really stupid decision for me to have made, seeing as a plaster cast on that broken arm I gained from repeatedly hitting that metal bar was going to be a real hindrance to anything else I might choose to do, especially as the other hand was still sore from where I'd hit the road too. Still, at least I was keeping the medical profession in business. There was no sign of Dawn or her dodgy window-fitting scam. I decided it was time I pulled my socks up and sorted myself out.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
I never realized I had so many odd parts! I sorted as much of me as I could into plastic bins I had picked up at the local 99-cent shop, but even so there was lots left over that I had no idea what to do with. My doctor had once told me that my only health problem was that I had too much Miss Amanda -- that I could either spend more money on clothes or less money on food. And so, remembering his advice, I went straight to the best restaurant in the neighborhood, ordered the best meal they had on the menu, and licked the platter clean!

[ 14. September 2009, 15:55: Message edited by: Amanda B. Reckondwythe ]
 
Posted by Stejjie (# 13941) on :
 
Unfortunately, while I thought I was licking food off the plate, it was actually a very rare design. The owner of the restaurant was less than impressed with the "cleanliness" of said platter. IN his fury, he showed me another plate with the same design - I knew I didn't have a leg to stand on.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Causing me to collapse to the floor, sadly with said plate in hand. It smashed into a million pieces, and I knew the enraged manager was going to rip me limb from limb.
 
Posted by Stejjie (# 13941) on :
 
Given my legless state, this was less painful that it might have been. However, my lack of arms meant I was unable to pay for the damage to the plate. It looked like I'd got away scot-free, while he was spitting feathers.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
Well, not completely scot-free - as I escaped out of the restaurant in a shower of feathers, conveniently forgetting to pay the bill, I was pursued down the road by a large, burly kilt-wearing man called Hamish who cried out, "Come back! Ye forgot tae pay yer bill!"

"You're quite right," I shouted back and jumped hastily onto a passing Number 21 bus. I was getting out of here. The world was going to hell in a handbasket.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
The handbasket sped past the No. 21 bus, the latter being one of the slowest on an infamously slow route. But it did not speed by so fast that I was unable to make out exactly who it was who was bound for the nether regions in said handbasket. And so I waved to the dowager princess, the bishop, Lady Plimpton and my dear friend Dawn as they gesticulated wildly in return. "Toodle-oo," I called out, "Happy trails!"
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
And the trail I chose to walk on, having tired of the other myriad forms of transportation I'd been on, was indeed happy as a clam.

"Go ahead, baby, walk all over me;You know how I love it" it murmured to me in a deep gravelly voice. I dropped a soda can on the trail and it shivered with delight. No doubt about it, this trail was one sick puppy.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Immediately I realised what I was thinking and leapt off the trail and into the wet grass alongside. With my animal cruelty record, albeit an innocently acquired one, it was not going to be a good idea in anyone's book to walk on a sick puppy, no matter how happy that puppy was. And at least the grass wasn't about to start talking to me. Still, knowing the prevelance of Lyme Disease in the area, I reminded myself that I'd better keep an eye out for ticks.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Fortunately at that very moment, a travelling fairground stopped beside me, and I was able win a small golden fish contained in a plastic bag filled with water, just by throwing darts at board and scoring 21 This was just the very thing I needed for carrying my eye in! I was soon accosted by a rather rude young boy who demanded to know why I was carrying a fish and an eye around with me. I told him my story leaving out the references to animal cruelty, but he did not beleive a word of it and shouted Liar Liar - Pants on Fire and caused such a commotion I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
The ground not being a sentient being (with the exception of the happy trail, of course), it failed to oblige, but the goldfish in the bag obviously had delusions of grandeur as it opened its mouth wide and promptly swallowed me whole. I felt a bit like Jonah, except that in this case the creature was too small to fit me comfortably in its belly and, as my pants were on fire too, it exploded into a million tiny pieces, spewing me out onto the floor once more. I found myself lying, in a pile of fish fingers, at the feet of the animal cruelty lady who tutted in my general direction. I rolled my eyes at her in a gesture of utter helplessness.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
The Cruelty-Lady had taken a part-time job in a bowling alley, as "pin-boy" (only very old people will know about this), and I was trying to roll my eyes down the alley, staying out of the gutter. She refused to send my eyes back via the ball return thingy, so I thought I'd better move on in my quest- I had quite forgotten exactly what my quest was - other trails to ride, other fish to fry, and so on; if I was to accomplish anything I had better skeedaddle and get a leg up on it.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
(Miss Amanda remembers pin-boys.)

I had selected the best looking pin-boy to practice my acrobatics on. As I got my leg up on him, he looked surprised at first, then shocked, then ecstatic (much to my relief). "Why, Miss Amanda," he cooed, "I didn't know you cared." "Hey, let's make music!" I replied.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
His eyes lit up and he immediately whipped out his trombone. I deliberated for about three seconds wondering which of my many instruments I should choose - the organ? Too obvious - I pulled out a small folding piano, unfolded it to the correct size and we were away. In a short space of time we'd attracted quite a crowd in the street, including a well-known Hollywood publicist, had made a small fortune busking and had a variety of lucrative musical engagements suddenly lined up - in short, the stars were ours.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Unfortunately there are a lot of stars, and we owed tax on every one of them. Our busking take just about paid it off, along with the proceeds from our next 3 live shows. Once that was over we sold the stars from the back of a truck in a vacant lot, netting quite a tidy profit. Sometimes you think something is a good investment, but it turns out you can't see the forest for the trees.
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
Now that was a bad investment, setting up as a Seeing-Eye Human for vision-impaired trees. First, they didn't seem to see the need for my services, and when I handed out my business cards, one asked me with a menacing bark, "So where'd you get the paper for these, then?"

He waved his limbs at me and I knew it was time to go. One more moment and I would've been toast.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Fortunately, as the Great Grill of the World rolled into sight, I scarpered in the opposite direction. I nice mess I was in now. No cash, no stars, no gigs. A pretty kettle of fish, indeed.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
In fact, it was an extraordinary beautiful kettle of fish, made as it was of clear crystal, filled with iridescent, opalescent, shimmering rainbow-hued fish of many colours (not that I'm one to repeat myself), darting here and there. The sight was so pretty that I took several photographs, painted a large picture and turned up at the gates of the nearest art gallery with them under my arm to see if they might be suitable for the next exhibition.

The exhibition turned out to be Surrealism, so they were quite happy to take depictions of fish, and pay me a decent cash advance, and I went away feeling that the world was my oyster.

[ 18. September 2009, 17:25: Message edited by: Ariel ]
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
But sadly, when the oyster opened, there was no pearl in sight. So I sighed, picked up my things, and went off to find the ghost of the dowager princess. My heart was in my shoes.
 
Posted by les@BALM (# 11237) on :
 
The shoes of Cinderella, if only she could find her Prince Charming, then life would be a bed of roses.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
With thorns! Ouch! Cinderella sprang to her feet, rapidly donned some road clothes, and joined me in my search for the ghost of the dowager princess. Soon we were as thick as thieves.
 
Posted by Fr Weber (# 13472) on :
 
"Durrr, what's a dowager?" queried Cinderella, bending to crop some succulent poison oak and clumsily attempting to remove my wallet from my hip pocket. I started at the feel of her hand on my bottom and tripped over my shoelaces, which I'd tied to each other in my haste to escape the thorny bed of roses.

From my prone position on the sward I muttered to the ground, "Beats me."
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
"Haven't you ever Googled?" I scornfully asked Cinderella. But admittedly I was not thinking clearly due to the pain caused by the rose thorns poking through my mattress and the severe beating Cinderella had administered. The pain was considerably enhanced by the burning and itching I felt on my nether regions, Cinderella having generously rubbed poison oak all over them. But that wasn't the first itch I'd ever had to scratch, and somehow I doubted it would be the last.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
It wasn't. Itches popped up all over the place, and it wasn't until I found a chemist's selling calamine lotion that I was able to get some relief. The only problem was that Cinderella had clumsily removed my wallet from my pocket and now refused to give it back, claiming it had been hers all along, so I was left with just a handful of coins. But the chemist said that a small bottle of calamine lotion wouldn't break the bank.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And it didn't, even though Cinderella hurled it at the brick façade with all her might. Thankfully it didn't break the shatterproof bottle, either, and I was allowed to go on applying it to my itchy locales. Meanwhile Cinderella tapped her foot and made impatient noises like she was late for her own wedding. "Keep your shirt on!" I hollered.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
"The hell with my shirt," she snarled, "what about my knickers?" "Is that my affair? " I queried, "We are hardly on those terms. All I can suggest, is, don't get your knickers in a twist."

[ 19. September 2009, 20:12: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
But it was too late. There she was, doing the twist, with her knickers on and all. After much prodding I decided she wasn't going to stop, so I continued on my search alone. Losing her company was hardly the end of the world.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
First: how you can be prodding someone while they're doing the twist, I don't know; it seems....unseemly. Second: The End of the World as we Know It was announced today, but as of this hour, on the East Coast USA, The Rapture hasn't yet occurred, or at least it hasn't affected me. I thought about hurrying to my closest Mega-Church and throwing myself upon the lavender plush carpet with tears and remorse, but I chickened out.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Actually, what the church elders would think about the eggs I laid in the grounds outside the church was an interesting thought but I didn't allow that to worry me for long. I scratched up a few worms and bits of seed to keep me going and headed out of the churchyard without ever making it through the doors of the church. Now I had to decide, was I going to continue my quest or give up and go home for a nice cup of tea? I was on the horns of a dilemma.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
With respect to Anne Rice, this wasn't as exciting a place to be as might have been expected. The horns caught me squarely amidships, and tossed me lightly aside into the nearest ditch. This being full of the previous week's monsoon rains, I promptly sank to the bottom, and emerged, dripping, and covered in weed. The Monster from the Swamp was nothing to it.
 
Posted by Timothy the Obscure (# 292) on :
 
And being nothing, it really wasn't a problem at all. So I grabbed a latte at the nearest Starbucks and headed for work. When I walked in the door I was alarmed by the expression on my boss's face. "We're drowning in red ink!" she said.
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
And indeed it was true. Some malicious fiend had pulled the stoppers out of every single barrel of red ink stored in the attic of the offices and the bloodlike torrent that was pouring down the staircase threatened to consume everything in its path. Grabbing a lifejacket from my pocket (well, I was a boy scout, after all), I threw it to my boss and then dived bravely into the scarlet waves, swimming until I was positioned above the trapdoor to the cellar and diving down to open it, thus releasing the ink into the gaping cavern below where it was safely contained. "Surely after this heroic act," I thought to myself as I made my way back to my boss, "she'll think I'm the cat's whiskers and promote me on the spot."
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
Of course, I was only one of the cat's many whiskers, the cat in question being of such overwhelming fluffiness that a team of mere brushers was deemed to be insufficient.

"Stand right...there" said my boss beamingly "as I promote you from Cat Whisker to Head of Cat Maintenance!"

I knew I should be on top of the world, but instead I was down in the dumps.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
The dumps had quite a lot going for them, if I held my nose and trod carefully. Within half an hour I'd accumulated a variety of interesting things - a small piece of a grandfather clock, a fragment of Victorian china, a Botswana postage stamp, a dirty magazine and a perfectly good egg sandwich, still in its unopened wrapping. Encouraged by my discoveries I climbed back up out of the dumps and got back to my desk with my trophies. I'd shown initiative and research capability at at least level 2 in finding a possible recycling opportunity for the company - now I was going to run this up the flagpole and see if my boss saluted it.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Sadly, I'd overlooked my fear of heights. Half way up the flagpole my stomach revolted, discharging, among other things, the egg sandwich, half a pint of cider and a chocolate brownie. Over my boss. What price promotion now? Dear God, what a pig's breakfast.

[ 28. September 2009, 21:41: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Pooks (# 11425) on :
 
I could see the rampant nature of the porcine’s approach to breaking fasts and from the meagre nature of the breakfast that there was never going to be enough in the immediate surroundings to satisfy this particular baconian growth expert. Unless, of course, the said even-toed ungulate turned its piggy-eyed attention towards the sole observer in the vicinity, to wit, the gentle author.

‘Wabbit,’ I said to myself, as the full extent of my potential impending misfortune was borne in upon me, “Time to get myself hence, forthwith and with due alacrity.”

Waiting not upon the order of my going, I made like a horse at market that had just been feagued, carried my tail well, and made like the wind.
 
Posted by Hawk (# 14289) on :
 
Making wind, a smell of rotting eggs filled the room. "He did it!" I wailed, pointing to the pig. But nobody was convinced, especially my boss, still covered with the pig's breakfast. Everyone glared at me with daggers in their eyes.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Sadly this rendered them all blind. But it was good for me, for it enabled me (and the pig) to make my escape. Off we went, running at full tilt.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
"Are you any good at tilting?" I gasped to the pig as we galloped along. "No," he replied, "but there's a tilter hurtling towards us who may well be!" As the titler charged , thunderously in our direction a little voice told me that all was not well.

[ 29. October 2009, 16:02: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Hawk (# 14289) on :
 
“Well d’uh”, I replied to the voice, in my best sarcastic tone. “Don’t blame me”, the voice replied, close to tears, “I’m only little.” Ignoring the annoying disembodied whine, I quickly switched from full tilt to 1/8th tilt, thus confusing the Tilter, who went for my unfortunate porcine companion instead. There was a horrible squealing sound and a smell of burnt fat. I felt like throwing up again.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
But elected instead to throw the pig onto the barbecue which had materialised at my side. Servitors hastened to provide me with salds and sauces. "It's a quick cook barbie," they reassured me;" You won't have to wait long. Meanwhile, have a drink. You look parched." I fell on the nearest bottle of red.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Which shattered into multiple pieces, leaving me as parched as ever. "Can you get me another bottle? I promise I won't break it," I said to the nearest servitor. "Oh no," said the servitor. "I know your kind and am not going to allow you to break another bottle. Once bitten, twice shy."
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
It was obvious that both episodes of diffidence were behind him, as he stood threateningly between me and the wine rack, a large chunk missing from his left cheek which a previous patron had eaten while waiting for bbqd spare ribs. "Alright", he relented, "Would you like a Shiraz Viognier, a Grenache Cabernet Merlot or a Pinot Noir?" This was all Greek to me.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
"All Greek to you, eh?" Then I expect to see all the folks at this pig BBQ (by the way, creating a lot of anxiety and milling about in my little flock) chugging down Retsina with abandon. You know Retsina...bottled turpentine, which people pretend to enjoy drinking. If you ask me, it's all a bunch of crap.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Crap by the bunch can only be found in the Little Shop of Horrors, from which I fled. spraying room deodoriser with gay abandon as I went. "Lead me to lilies, tuberoses, anything with a decent perfume," I called in desperation. The only answer was an echoing silence.
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
I paused to consider this acoustic paradox, which was abruptly broken by the rat-tat-tat of a badly tuned and unskilfully played kettle drum. A lone drummer strode into sight, paused at my side marking time, gestured to his instrument by inclining his head to the left, and said wheedlingly, "You can have my timpani if you play your cards right".
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
I had a pair of jacks, ace high. I discarded the 8 and the queen, and signaled the dealer for two. They were a 4 and another ace. Two pair, aces and jacks. Not bad. I moved a red chip onto the table.

Suddenly the doors flew open and the police burst in. "Put your hands in the air!" shouted the loudest police officer. "And don't move, or you'll get what for!"
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Pondering for a moment how to put my hands in the air without moving, I realised that my hands were already in air, even though they were by my sides. It wasn't enough for the officer, though, as my eyelids were clearly moving. "WHAT FOR?" he shouted at me, mercilessly. I was glued to the spot.
 
Posted by Ariel (# 58) on :
 
As you can imagine this was really annoying. I had a bottle of solvent in my pocket, as I never travel without it (as with a piece of string, paperclip and rubber band, you know you'll want it if you haven't got it) but the spot itself wasn't one I liked. It was a large fluorescent lime green spot of irregular shape and ragged edges, in short it had no redeeming aesthetic qualities whatsoever, and I emphatically didn't want to be associated with it in any way. Accordingly I poured the solvent generously around my glued area and waited for it to take effect - which it did in a flash.

[ 02. November 2009, 11:32: Message edited by: Ariel ]
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Which had the effect of striking the cop with lightning. I hurried past his charred figure, thinking that at least he'd acquired a permanent cure for flatulence. Now my next problem was how to cut the Gordian knot and escape from the predicament I was in.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
Fortunately I had a tiny box-cutter concealed in my hair comb, with which I sliced and undid hat knot. All the time I was most uncomfortable with that melted polyester stuck to my bumm. I was a nervous wreck, and felt like any moment I was gonna toss my cookies.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And sure enough I stumbled over some object on the floor, and the tray of two dozen snickerdoodles I was carrying went flying through the air. These hit the backup cop, who was just coming to see what was keeping his partner from their usual 10:30 donut date, smack in the face. "You're in trouble now," he roared. "When the judge gets through with you, you'll be singing a different tune."
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
"I can do that now," I tweeted, switching from "Oh dear, what can the matter be?" to "There could be trouble tonight" in a flash. Then, in a burst of inspiration, I told him in song:"Hey man, get offa my cloud."
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
"Cumulonimbus", I heard him mutter into his radio to the DA's office, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before they found a statute they could book me with. I ran like the wind.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Which is to say, I kept running into trees and bending them over. Finally I ran into one so hard I knocked myself out. When I came to I was in a jail cell with a very large man, who handed me something suspicious-looking and said, "Hey bro, try this. It's real kick-ass."
 
Posted by Smudgie (# 2716) on :
 
Sure enough, in a corner of the cell, I saw a donkey which clearly belonged to my cellmate and so, in accordance with his instructions, I placed the item carefully on the end of my shoe and used it to aim a forceful kick at the poor creature. The donkey flew through the air and against the bars of the cell with such force that they bucked, leaving just enough space for me to squeeze through. This was indeed fortunate, as for some strange reason my cellmate did not seem to appreciate my compliance and turned rather hostile towards me. I made my exit post haste.
 
Posted by Imaginary Friend (# 186) on :
 
Which, considering how fast posts tend to move, was really very slowly. It was fortunate, therefore, that at that very moment, Oprah came on the TV and distracted my cellmate with her usual upbeat mix of interviews, book reviews and heart-warming stories. But, once outside the cell, I realized I had another problem on my hands, as there were several prison guards running down the corridor. I was a deer in the headlights as they charged.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
But no! So far from being a deer, I was a stag with an identity crisis. Following the principle of charge them before they charge you, I lowered my head and went for them. They scattered like chaff in the wind.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
And, a breezy day is just what you want for winnowing grain. I slipped into a Russian peasant costume and joined in with the happy, simple country folk, tossing the grain up into the air, and watching the chaff blow out the end of the huge barn. Everything was Ha-Ha and Ho-Ho until some police-types in a horse-drawn Paddy Wagon pulled up, and I cringed, and tried to look inconspicuous. The Nasty-looking Major-Domo said to his henchmen, "O let them alone, with all that potato liquor they're swilling, they'll be three sheets to the wind by sunset."
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
The drawcords of my kosovorotka flapping wildly in the stiff breeze, I hurtled away from the druzhina, not pausing until I was certain that they were no longer following. Stopping to draw breath outside a small monastery, I was startled by an Orthodox priest who emerged and greeted me in perfectly accented French, "Hello my little cabbage cabbage".
 
Posted by Pooks (# 11425) on :
 
Upon hearing this utterance, I narrowed my eyes to check myself, then checked the man in black in front of me to see if I was still in the world that I thought I was in. I have been called many things before, but only once a cabbage and that was by a tutor who suffered from dyspepsia and gout which naturally soured his disposition to all mankind. His fondness for cabbage is well known to me, so to this day I still couldn’t be sure that when he called me a cabbage whether it was a term of endearment or a put down. Now to be called cabbage twice with an echo…

Even more importantly…

<Cue music: Dum Di Dum Dum…rimshot.>… I thought he was dead…

Is this my past coming back to haunt me?

[ 05. November 2009, 12:35: Message edited by: Pooks ]
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Slipping into the world of flashback I relived the pig barbecue, fortunately not as the pig. "Is this TRW or sci-fi fantasy?" I asked myself. But that previously helpful still small voice from an earlier life was silent as the grave.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Silent as the grave, that is, on a sunny day with lots of birds in the trees, the groundskeeper mowing the lawn, and visiting mourners wailing and saying prayers. Indeed it was downright noisy, so the pig's ghost and I left the churchyard and headed on down the road in the direction indicated by the priest. Soon we were happy and cheerful, and figured we had ditched the cops for good.
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
Our jollity was short-lived, as from the roadside trench there rose a white-garbed spectre which adjured my porky pal and me:

"I am the angel Gabriel! Pour away that vodka, extinguish those cigars, stop playing Creedence Clearwater Revival on your iPods and put on Bing Crosby!"

"Why, you sanctimonious creep!" the pig exploded.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Feeling that there were neater and less messy ways to register a protest, I wiped of splashes of exploded pig with water from the ditch. "Did you really mean that?" I quavered at the ghost. "No," he snarled. "I'm Rook, and I was just being crotchety."

[ 07. November 2009, 20:23: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by pimple (# 10635) on :
 
He was, of course, making a rather overdone reference to the "bare ruined choirs" that rooks traditionally inhabit. But they usually look more like semi-demi-quavers than crotchets, with their ragged feathers an' all. When I pointed this out to him he was miffed. Actually, I don't think he had any idea where I was coming from.
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
It turned out that he knew precisely where I was coming from, given that he was a (good) angel, and not a ghost as has been misrepresented by some writers. He offered to drown the pursuing police in the waters of the Black Sea, but I pointed out that they had loved ones who depended on them for financial and emotional support. "You're right", he replied at length, "Bugger 'em".
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
"Not me!" I retorted swiftly. "I've neither the equipment nor the desire. You're supposed to be a good angel; you bugger them." But, surprise, surprise, they had wisely fled. "OK", conceded the angel, I'll just label them in candy floss pink instead." "Spoken like a true Fluffy Bunny," I replied.
 
Posted by Herrick (# 15226) on :
 
I awoke with The Fluffy Bunnies cold nose buried in my neck. 'Why can't you find a real boyfriend?', I said.

But she wasn't asleep, and the shit hit the fan...
 
Posted by Chorister (# 473) on :
 
It took me ages to clean the house after that unfortunate little episode. You wouldn't believe how far something can spread if helped on its way by the whirring blades of a cooling fan. Flyffye Bynnye was no help, of course - she was out of that house as quick as winking.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Thankfully although Winking had left, Blinking and Nod stayed behind to help with the clean-up. Fluffy Bunny helped by lifting its feet up when we had to vacuum around it. Once the house was clean the four of us set out once more, whistling and whooping to beat the band.
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
We hadn't gone far, when we encountered thirty rakish young men puffing into trombones and French horns. Every one of them was clad in brief, tight leather shorts and a t-shirt which bore the legend
quote:
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but whips and chains excite me
"Thankyou, thankyou", they exclaimed in unison, "we've been waiting all day for someone to come along and thrash us". We looked at each other, and then back at the brass ensemble, addressing them "You're a few shingles short of a roof line!"
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
They replied, in chorus, "We're roofers, and the supplies haven't arrived, so we're just having a little S&M fun to music. Come and join us!". At that point, the supplies lorry hove over the horizon, laden with tiles, and we beat a hasty retreat.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
We grabbed up the thrown-down brass instruments and a garbage can lid, trotting away as fast as we could to a rat-a-tat-tat on the drum, and a badly toodled "Retreat" on the trumpet. We pawned the tuba and the French horn, spent the proceeds on a fabulous dinner plus champagne and I was soon in my own lovely bed, sawing logs.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
I managed to get through half a cord before the logs ran out. I went to look for an axe to split the wood, when a knock came on the door. In fact a very strident knock. It sounded like they were trying to beat the door down.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
Omigod, it was the S&M brigade after their instruments. I flung on a dressing gown, hunted for the pawn tickets and handed them over with a tenner to cover redemption. A gallon or so of hot chocolate soothed their disturbed souls, and they left, considerably calmed. I sank once more into the arms of Morpheus.
 
Posted by Orlando098 (# 14930) on :
 
I soon felt calmer and reassured. Then Morpheus, to my surprise, told me that I was living inside a computer simulation and he offered me a red and a blue pill. You have to decide whether you want to stay in the illusion, or wake up in the real world, he said. Christ on a bike! I exclaimed.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
And that's what saved me. As our Lord and Savior rode up, I saw that his bicycle was a tandem. He invited me to climb on the back, and we pedaled out of the Matrix. He dropped me off back in front of my house, and as he rode away, I waved. I turned to go in my front door, and saw that it was locked and I had no key. "Well they say when the Lord closes a door, he opens a window," I murmured.

[ 15. November 2009, 03:35: Message edited by: mousethief ]
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
So He had, and as I clambered through it, I breathed a prayer of thanks for open windows. "That's an oxymoron!" a voice boomed from an unlocatable spot, "Windows is an evil closed system, spawned by the Son of Perdition, and will be swept away and replaced by Linux in an immanentist hypostasis of the eschaton!"

I humbly besought Him, "Ah Lord, what about all those over-mortgaged drones in Redmond, and the local businesses which they patronise?", and He answered me, "They must be born again!"

FD
 
Posted by Herrick (# 15226) on :
 
"Born again Lord?".

" Yes born again as supporters of the Bulldogs!"


"They always give 110%"
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
I moaned in anguish. "Lord, it's ll too hard for me. Where are you when I really need you? And he replied, "My child, see those tire tracks?..... remember, Daisy, I am with you in wheel and woe."

[ 15. November 2009, 15:56: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
Tracking the Lord's grammar, I could see that He was tired, although it contradicted everything which I had been taught about His nature. "You being omniscient and all, I'd have thought that you would have known that it's 'Weal and woe'", I volunteered humbly (ish), "and has nothing to do with those round things which rotate to aid transportation".

"Hey", He retorted, "aren't I allowed a bad hair day?"

FD
 
Posted by Nunzia (# 4766) on :
 
And just like in the good old days, He spake and it became so. As far as the eye could see, every man, woman, child, and even animal had sprouted really bad hair. The multitude shrieked with horror and humiliation and there was much weeping and combing of hair, but they found no comfort. The formerly bald, however, were walking in tall cotton.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
For indeed, the hair that was growing so badly and so well was not true hair, but long, whispy strands of cotton. "Oops," said the Almighty. "I guess I bollocksed that up."
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
This vindicated those of us who had become increasingly unhappy at a gender-neutral portrayal of the Divine Person/s. I shared with the Lord my happiness at this reinforcement of stereotype, but I needn't have bothered, because all hearts are open, all desires known and no secrets are hidden, and he rebuked me sternly in his wrath:
quote:
Tough titties
FD
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
He should have said "tough breasts" and really this was the worst chicken I had ever eaten. I hastily wolfed down as much as I could, paid my bill, left a meagre tip, and blew that joint.
 
Posted by Herrick (# 15226) on :
 
Just after I left the Big Bad Wolf came along and blew my shack to pieces.

But one day I will return and send him to the cleaners.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
But only if I can find a firm that does live fur. I understand that it's a specialist trade. Approaching the first backwoodsman I met on the subject, he replied " Why darlin', ya knows, it's like gettin' married - fur better or fur worse." I retreated furtivley, apalled by his lésé majesté.

[ 16. November 2009, 13:27: Message edited by: jacobsen ]
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
But as I stepped backwards, a burly toga-clad figure clasped my shoulders firmly and said in the sort of Latin which the Roman church doesn't use because it wouldn't know a hard c from a soft if it transubstantiated into a wet fish while they were counting their latest dosh from selling annulments, "Oi, if you can't even spell lèse majesté, don't insult the Emperor by using foreign phrases". Or an ode to that effect.

I swivelled to meet his gaze, eyed his nifty toga up and down and replied in Australian contra-influenced by too many episodes of IP TV East Enders, "Nice whistle and flute!"
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Whereupon he took out a whistle and flute. "Would you like to play them?" he asked. I said yes, and played "Londonderry Air" on the whistle, and then a long selection from Mozart's second flute concerto on the flute. The betogaed character fell into a slumber, whereupon I laid down the musical instruments by his head, and beat a hasty retreat.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
I zipped through the kitchen on my way out, and grabbed a bowl of hasty pudding and a whisk, and while I ran I beat it fast and furious, til it was light as a feather. When the toga-guy woke up, he was furious I had stolen his pudding; he really hit the ceiling.
 
Posted by Gwai (# 11076) on :
 
It might have been funny except the neighbors were already annoyed with my earlier racket and the added pounding on the ceiling was just too much. When the toga-man hit the ceiling, Mrs. Baker, my imposing neighbor headed downstairs to give me a piece of her mind and boy did she have a cow.
 
Posted by mousethief (# 953) on :
 
Looking at the piece of cow's brain in my hand, I wondered how my life had become so strange. Was I in some kind of a crazy wonderland, chasing ghosts and duchesses and angels and pigs across a Monopoly board? If I get to Free Parking, will I win anything? What if somebody has a hotel on Boardwalk, will I have to mortgage St James Place?

But then brain juice started to drip onto the carpet and I figured I'd better quit my reveries and get back to the task at hand. I scraped Togaman off the ceiling and gave him the brain, instructing him to return it to the lady upstairs with my regards.

And I settled into the sofa for forty winks.
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
Unknown to our snoozing hero, Roy Rogers appeared from behind the sofa atop Trigger. The animal bobbed his head twenty times, then another twenty, and subsided back to the floor, its eyes glazed over. The cowboy explained that Trigger's oats had fermented, it was blind drunk, then pointed to the recumbent form on the sofa and said that it was all his fault. "A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse".

FD
 
Posted by Pooks (# 11425) on :
 
I nodded as I listened to the cowboy. So that explained why the horse was carrying a white stick in his mouth when they came in. It was to help him find his way, as well as for use when he couldn’t stand on his all fours of course. The wisdom of carrying a stick that could be used as a fifth leg immediately became apparent to me. It’s all very simple really. Now I looked at this remarkable snoring equine on the floor, who was twitching happily with an occasional smile on his face, with new awe. ‘Respect ter ya!’ I nodded to him, then added a wink for good measure as a gesture of my respect and adoration.

The cowboy Roy Rogers in the meantime was rather pleased that even without the persuasion of his gun, I was able to appreciate the nobleness of his steed. This encouraged his story telling mood because the horse had stopped listening to him a long time ago, he sat down and began again: ’Now see if you could get your head around this one…’
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
But, try as I might, my head remained the same size and shape, obstinately refusing to encircle or encompass RR's excessively boring tale. On and on he droned. The horse snored. My eyelids began to droop. At last it became too much for me. "Will you shut up?" I screamed. "You're doing my head in ."
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
Hey, I can barely keep track of what's doing in my own head, much less yours. I did try to tidy up the place though, what with Trigger being in the living room, and all. I noticed that Roy was really interested in my activity, in fact he really took a shine to me.
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
He resorted to song to prove his shining love, which was unfortunate because only a couple of hours before he'd expressed much the same sentiment to Dale Evans, who, attracted by the cacophonous disturbance in the sitting room, left her bible class in the kitchen to ask if we needed any help with guitar strumming. She took in the scene straightaway, jumped to the correct conclusion and smashed her $3,000 Gibson over Roy's head. Turning to me, she mouthed "As for you, you painted Jezebel, you're just prowling around seeking whom you may devour!"
 
Posted by Pooks (# 11425) on :
 
Why Dale Evans would take offence over Roy singing to Jezebel’s portrait is beyond anybody‘s guess. Perhaps she was just highly strung, but she was right about the painted Jezebel.

Jezebel the tiger, although only a painted portrait stuck on the wall, was never going to let that fact get in the way of a good meal. She eyed Roy thoughtfully (who had been thoroughly tenderized by the Gibson), listened to her stomach rumble and licked her lips, then came up with a cunning plan to get to her feast. ’Help, help! I’ve been framed.’ she cried pitifully.
 
Posted by jacobsen (# 14998) on :
 
"Why, Maam, what you need is a sure'nuff lawyer," cried RR gallantly. I'll fetch one immedjut. Jest you wait there, and I'll be back, sure 'n sartin'." And off he went on his horse, gallopping hell for leather.
 
Posted by Pearl B4 Swine (# 11451) on :
 
[ note: I think "Amurikans" know this expression as 'Hell-bent for leather', which is what I"m going to use.]

A LAWYER?? I moaned..no wonder you're headed straight for Hell. You'll find a great selection of them down there! Roy and Trigger took off in all directions, seeking the way to Hell, leather chaps a-flapping, hoofs a-pounding, but not making much progress; they were all at sixes and sevens.
 
Posted by Foaming Draught (# 9134) on :
 
Arriving at a set of gates which guarded the way down a long and surprisingly pleasant drive, lined with poplars, willows and jacarandas, our hero and his equine pal were greeted by a jovial but shotgun-wielding older man who bore a striking resemblance to Dick Cheney. "Welcome to Hell, boys", the possibly-Cheney-figure hailed them, "Hear tell you have mathematically impossible die with an extra side, and that they never fall on numbers one to five, my agents on earth could use a dice like that". The attention of Roy, his steed and Cheney/Satan was suddenly drawn to a peculiar vehicle which looked like an ark on wheels, careering down the drive away from Hell toward them, bearing a motley crowd of tat-wearers who were arguing over the correct terms to enter into a satnav to convey them from the infernal regions back to Basle. "Aha", Cheney/Lucifer enlightened Roy and Trigger, "it's a Ship of Fools".

FD
 


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