GENRE: Writer's Notes
What came to pass?
Maybe...Moglin should continue to follow them, and finally show himself, running them into the desert, and causing them to wander for forty days.... No, don't like tht idea, too...ancient and bible-like.
Well, Moglin, his son Mehoff, and Echus have joined forces....
What is special about Echus? What has he to offer them? Why is he interested in this hunt? How does he even know about all this?
Well, he was the forensic investigator from three years after Elvis' death.
But how come he is here now?
Maybe, since Moglin obviously knew about him, Moglin sent him some sort of "message" to get him involved in their hunt.
But why? Didn't Moglin and Mehoff dislike people who wore velvet?
And back to my other question...what does Echus have to offer them?
He is highly skilled in the area of forensics, and knows how to use a laboratory, like Moglin. He has medical knowledge and skill... And maybe he used to be a mortician? Yes.... So he is highly familiar with the body. He has an investigative eye. He is strong physically, and not to mention a little intimidating. And he is good at "mind puzzles."
But...where would knowledge of the human body help them?
Maybe Moglin transfers some of his magicks to Echus which will enable him to attack specific parts of the body with certain disease....
But why not just fry them?
It keeps from there being an investigation. That way, they would have died of "natural causes." Yes....
So now we know why they want Echus and what they want to use him for. But how did he come to know of this?
Hmm....
Moglin created a notcard of information concerning an opportunaity for a private investigation....
But wouldn't Moglin already have knowledge of the body? If he was so smart....
Hmmm....
Maybe Moglin did not have the gift of "mind powers," but Echus did, though he lacked the magicks and how to control them.... And Moglin and Mehoff would have to teach them....
Maybe Mehoff possesses nothing, he's just along for the trip maybe....
So, Moglin would have to give Echus a transfer of proper magicks, and he and Mehoff would have to work with him and teach him it's proper use so that when confrontation came, Echus could strike them with disease within their organs and kill them, leaving no questions for investigators.
But what if they found like three bodies? Wouldn't that look suspicious?
Then they must think of something else. No....plaguing the entire village was not an option right now. Not right now anyways....
Yes....yes! A pack of wolves! Echus could strike the wolves with brain damage, causing psychotc illusions and such, and lead them to the three to be shredded to pieces!
But wouldn't they be able to stop them?
Moglin could set up a shield around each wolf until it was dead to protect it.... They could surely win that way....
Ok, so now....
Volleyball 2005
Moderator: Ghost
-
ChoChiyo
- Artificial Intellect
- Posts: 10882
- Joined: Sat Aug 28, 2004 1:06 pm
- Location: The middle of a Minnesota cornfield
- Contact:
And now, gentle reader, we must look into the grim cubicle where Jack, son of the Mighty Moglin, is filling out (in triplicate) the seventeen forms that must be completed in the event of a botched mission.
Don't know how the damned mission could've got much more botched than it did! grumbled Jack, popping a couple of light blue tranquilizers into his mouth. I even had to use the escape hatch in the men's room to avoid being slaughtered like an Ecuadoran Guinea Pig at a street vendor's convention! He was very careful not to grumble aloud as the Moglin's Pryalot Act had made it perfectly legal for him to plant listening devices and tiny cameras anywhere and everywhere. Every move Jack made, every breath he took was monitored.
Not that he was being singled out for any particular scrutinization. All the minions of the Moglin (may he roast in hell forever, the batty twit Jack thought, keeping his face carefully neutral) were monitored ceaselessly. Even the restless mutterings they uttered in sleep were recorded and analyzed at length by Freud himself--who had been fetched forward in time by that cackling Jackass before he'd become a turncoat and a constant thorn in the mighty Moglin's (burn in hell forever, the automatic thought repeated itself in Jack's mind) backside.
[Genre= Botched Mission Report]
He rolled the report, wrapped a rubber band around it, and placed it into the pneumatic tube that whisked it directly to the Moglin's desk. Then he sat, stiffly staring into the 10x10 foot screen on the cubical wall and waited for the image of the Moglin to appear.
After a flicker of static, the emblem of the Moglin appeared--red being a predominant color--then the familiar silhouette of the Moglin appeared before it. Inky and featureless, the image seemed to glare into the very pit of Jack's soul.
sh*t, Jack thought, feeling the sudden need to visit the facilities.
When the Moglin spoke, his voice was deceptively silky. "I have received your report, Jack," he said.
"Yes, great pukka," Jack replied stiffly. "I submit myself to your correction." Gah. This is really going to suck.
From somewhere in the Moglin's office, a bit of light sparkled across his sharp teeth as he smiled. "Oh, I have no intention of dealing with your correction, " he gloated.
Jack felt a flicker of hope. "Really?" he asked, his voice a full octave higher.
"Oh, no," the Mighty One said. "The Empress would like to deal with you personally."
Jack flushed. "Ah, Dad!" he wailed "Not MOM!!!!"
His father, the mighty pukka, ignored his outburst. "And you need to watch your penmanship, son. Your 'P's look remarkably like 'F's. That just won't do."
The screen belched static, and his father vanished from the screen.
Great. Just great, Jack thought. Now....
Don't know how the damned mission could've got much more botched than it did! grumbled Jack, popping a couple of light blue tranquilizers into his mouth. I even had to use the escape hatch in the men's room to avoid being slaughtered like an Ecuadoran Guinea Pig at a street vendor's convention! He was very careful not to grumble aloud as the Moglin's Pryalot Act had made it perfectly legal for him to plant listening devices and tiny cameras anywhere and everywhere. Every move Jack made, every breath he took was monitored.
Not that he was being singled out for any particular scrutinization. All the minions of the Moglin (may he roast in hell forever, the batty twit Jack thought, keeping his face carefully neutral) were monitored ceaselessly. Even the restless mutterings they uttered in sleep were recorded and analyzed at length by Freud himself--who had been fetched forward in time by that cackling Jackass before he'd become a turncoat and a constant thorn in the mighty Moglin's (burn in hell forever, the automatic thought repeated itself in Jack's mind) backside.
[Genre= Botched Mission Report]
Jack sighed, looked over his document, and decided he had not yet been self-effacing enough.To: The Great Pukka, Moglin the Mighty
From: Jack, the most incompetent of the minions of the Mighty One.
Sir:
My incompetence knows no bounds.
Though my careless mishandling of the situation, the prisoner, Elvis Aaron-Bob MacElroy, escaped from our custody. Attempts to probe the depth of his knowledge via a variety of methods, including, but not limited to, drugs, electroshock, hydrotorment, sensory deprivation, really disgusting hospital food, and hypnosis were unsuccessful.
The only information we were able to extract from said prisoner was the word "Mara," which, upon being spoken by the prisoner, summoned what I can only describe as an immature succubus. Close on the heels of this creature followed one of the Knights Templar who identified himself as "Sir William." Apparently feeling he would be able to dispatch us all, he also uttered his pseudonym, "Father Bill." Upon further investigation, I discovered that "Father Bill" is the junior priest at St. Jude Thaddeus Catholic Church on Brighton Avenue.
Operatives have been dispatched to said church, henceforth to be known as "Enemy Base Alph-Alpha-Roger-Two-Niner," and to the trailer occupied by the escaped prisoner's family, henceforth to be known as "Enemy Base Gamma-Razor-Six-Heartbreak-Hotel."
If either returns to his base, we shall be informed within moments.
Jack bit his thumbnail and gazed into space for a moment, really hating to put down the next bit, but knowing it had to be done.Thus, great pukka, I have endeavored to repair the damage to the cause propigated by my complete lack of intelligence, value, and/or usefulness.
The corners of Jack's mouth turned down slightly. Consequences and discipline were very mild words to describe the pukka's response to failure. Bugger, Jack thought. Can't be helped.Whatever consequence you deem necessary, Mighty Moglin, I submit myself willingly to your discipline.
He rolled the report, wrapped a rubber band around it, and placed it into the pneumatic tube that whisked it directly to the Moglin's desk. Then he sat, stiffly staring into the 10x10 foot screen on the cubical wall and waited for the image of the Moglin to appear.
After a flicker of static, the emblem of the Moglin appeared--red being a predominant color--then the familiar silhouette of the Moglin appeared before it. Inky and featureless, the image seemed to glare into the very pit of Jack's soul.
sh*t, Jack thought, feeling the sudden need to visit the facilities.
When the Moglin spoke, his voice was deceptively silky. "I have received your report, Jack," he said.
"Yes, great pukka," Jack replied stiffly. "I submit myself to your correction." Gah. This is really going to suck.
From somewhere in the Moglin's office, a bit of light sparkled across his sharp teeth as he smiled. "Oh, I have no intention of dealing with your correction, " he gloated.
Jack felt a flicker of hope. "Really?" he asked, his voice a full octave higher.
"Oh, no," the Mighty One said. "The Empress would like to deal with you personally."
Jack flushed. "Ah, Dad!" he wailed "Not MOM!!!!"
His father, the mighty pukka, ignored his outburst. "And you need to watch your penmanship, son. Your 'P's look remarkably like 'F's. That just won't do."
The screen belched static, and his father vanished from the screen.
Great. Just great, Jack thought. Now....
I am a poor, wayfaring stranger
Wandering through this world of woe
But there's no sickness, no fear or danger
In that bright land
To which I go
Wandering through this world of woe
But there's no sickness, no fear or danger
In that bright land
To which I go
-
Kvetch
- Sweeper
- Posts: 11844
- Joined: Tue Apr 20, 2004 2:12 pm
- Location: North of the Sun and East of Chaos
- Contact:
Great. Just great, Jack thought. Now.... I wonder what the internet has to say about The International Brotherhood, Disciples of Faust - it's not as if I get TOLD anything he mentally kvetched
Whistling gently, he loaded his Demonic Webrowser (TM) - after all, The Moglin could hardly complain about him educating himself.
...
...
...
aha - this looks interesting
[Genre: Wikipedia Article]
International Brotherhood, Disciples of Faust
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia.
Edit lock: due to repetead deletions by user moglin_666
International Brotherhood, Disciples of Faust, hereafter The Brotherhood, since an acronym seems never to be used, is believed to be a secret society based in Alabama with international, intergalactic and metatemporal links. Unlike the famous Illuminati, there is very little extant information, indicating that The Brotherhood is still active and under the control of one or more highly dedicated Grandmasters
Contents [hide]
1 Origins
-1.1 Dr. Moglin
-1.2 Intergalactic Biotechnological Learning, Including Satanism, Trust
2 Objectives
-2.1 World domination
-2.2 Technical Advancement
3 Recent History
4 Speculation
5 Affiliations and rivalries
-5.1 Intergalactic Biomagkical Learning, Including Satanism, Trust
-5.2 The Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Solomon
-5.3 Culinary Institute of America
6 External links
1 Origins
It is believed that The Brotherhood was formed fairly recently (in the last 200 years), although there is circumstantial evidence to indicate that The Brotherhood was active a long ago as the Crusades. See Friedrich Wilhelm von Junzt's Unaussprechlichen Kulten (1839)
1.1 Dr. Moglin
It is generally accepted that The Brotherhood's founder was one Doctor Moglin (The gender of the mysterious doctor is disputed, but Ginger Rodger's argument for a small family group of Moglins is convincing). It is likely that the truth of this will never be known, since the original protagonists are long dead, and the likelihood of discovery of primary documentation is small.
Dr. Moglin set up The Brotherhood with a specific set of aims (see section 2). The methodology of acheiving fused the religio-magikal approach of the Intergalactic Biomagkical Learning, Including Satanism, Trust with the technological expertise of one Captain Nemo
1.2 Intergalactic Biomagkical Learning, Including Satanism, Trust
It is believed that at least one of the founding members of this semi-secret organisation, devoted to the acquisition of personal power, especially through satanic ritual and dark magic
2 Objectives
Recently (2004) a copy of the charter of The Brotherhood was discovered among the estate of H P Lovecraft (British Library holding number 83/22534 DSC X.800/36465). Although it is undated, and its provenance is unknown, the aims set out are in keeping with what is known of Brotherhood activity. Considering the terms used, the document cannot be more that twenty years old, although it is written on ancient parchment (dated to about 1750)
2.1 World domination
The Primary aim of the Brotherhood is to achieve "total and complete world domination with in the next three hundred years, starting with control of the North American continent". The charter claims that this is to be achieved by a combination of mind control, magic, time travel and cohorts of zombies. It is not known how this was to be achieved, and there is no reliable (see Chicago Sun Times, 3/xi/1994) evidence that any of these abilities have been gained
2.2 Technical Advancement
A secondary goal (mainly to facilitate the above) was to develop effective genetic techniques to allow cloning of low intelligence, highly persistent individuals, as well as "develop more advanced temporal travel capability, speciffically (sic) the ability to transport large masses efficiently and accurately".
3 Recent History
Little is known, although rumours on certain Usenet groups (alt.paranoia and alt.conspiracy) suggests a recent rise in activity.
4 Speculation
While it is indubitable that some of these aims, and some of the alleged abilities of The Brotherhood are counter to accepted laws of physics and boundaries of modern biotechnology, The Brotherhood is none the less a powerful group, if indeed it exists (see Lúthien Tinúviel's semantic work 'Powerbroking among Secret Societies and Cults')
5 Affiliations and rivalries
5.1 Intergalactic Biomagkical Learning, Including Satanism, Trust
This group has a certain degree of animosity to The Brotherhood, since the schism that lead to The Brotherhood's creation. While no open conflict has come to light, it is believed that each group attempts to inconvenience the other group as much as possible
5.2 The Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Solomon
The recently reformed Knights Templar (see Papal directive 3678539) have declared a crusade upon The Brotherhood due to their Satanism and interest in genetic modification
5.3 Culinary Institute of America
The CIA has yet to issue an official statement on The Brotherhood, but considering the past behaviour of the institute, condimentation is likely
6 External links
http://www.freedomdomain.com/secretso.htm
http://www.conspiracyplanet.com/
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This page was last modified 08:47, 4 Feb 2005.
All text is available under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License (see Copyrights for details).
About Wikipedia - Disclaimers
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
... hmm ... that was interesting ... I wonder who it is that is sad enough to write things like that ...
Closing the open window, Jack ...
Whistling gently, he loaded his Demonic Webrowser (TM) - after all, The Moglin could hardly complain about him educating himself.
...
...
...
aha - this looks interesting
[Genre: Wikipedia Article]
International Brotherhood, Disciples of Faust
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia.
Edit lock: due to repetead deletions by user moglin_666
International Brotherhood, Disciples of Faust, hereafter The Brotherhood, since an acronym seems never to be used, is believed to be a secret society based in Alabama with international, intergalactic and metatemporal links. Unlike the famous Illuminati, there is very little extant information, indicating that The Brotherhood is still active and under the control of one or more highly dedicated Grandmasters
Contents [hide]
1 Origins
-1.1 Dr. Moglin
-1.2 Intergalactic Biotechnological Learning, Including Satanism, Trust
2 Objectives
-2.1 World domination
-2.2 Technical Advancement
3 Recent History
4 Speculation
5 Affiliations and rivalries
-5.1 Intergalactic Biomagkical Learning, Including Satanism, Trust
-5.2 The Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Solomon
-5.3 Culinary Institute of America
6 External links
1 Origins
It is believed that The Brotherhood was formed fairly recently (in the last 200 years), although there is circumstantial evidence to indicate that The Brotherhood was active a long ago as the Crusades. See Friedrich Wilhelm von Junzt's Unaussprechlichen Kulten (1839)
1.1 Dr. Moglin
It is generally accepted that The Brotherhood's founder was one Doctor Moglin (The gender of the mysterious doctor is disputed, but Ginger Rodger's argument for a small family group of Moglins is convincing). It is likely that the truth of this will never be known, since the original protagonists are long dead, and the likelihood of discovery of primary documentation is small.
Dr. Moglin set up The Brotherhood with a specific set of aims (see section 2). The methodology of acheiving fused the religio-magikal approach of the Intergalactic Biomagkical Learning, Including Satanism, Trust with the technological expertise of one Captain Nemo
1.2 Intergalactic Biomagkical Learning, Including Satanism, Trust
It is believed that at least one of the founding members of this semi-secret organisation, devoted to the acquisition of personal power, especially through satanic ritual and dark magic
2 Objectives
Recently (2004) a copy of the charter of The Brotherhood was discovered among the estate of H P Lovecraft (British Library holding number 83/22534 DSC X.800/36465). Although it is undated, and its provenance is unknown, the aims set out are in keeping with what is known of Brotherhood activity. Considering the terms used, the document cannot be more that twenty years old, although it is written on ancient parchment (dated to about 1750)
2.1 World domination
The Primary aim of the Brotherhood is to achieve "total and complete world domination with in the next three hundred years, starting with control of the North American continent". The charter claims that this is to be achieved by a combination of mind control, magic, time travel and cohorts of zombies. It is not known how this was to be achieved, and there is no reliable (see Chicago Sun Times, 3/xi/1994) evidence that any of these abilities have been gained
2.2 Technical Advancement
A secondary goal (mainly to facilitate the above) was to develop effective genetic techniques to allow cloning of low intelligence, highly persistent individuals, as well as "develop more advanced temporal travel capability, speciffically (sic) the ability to transport large masses efficiently and accurately".
3 Recent History
Little is known, although rumours on certain Usenet groups (alt.paranoia and alt.conspiracy) suggests a recent rise in activity.
4 Speculation
While it is indubitable that some of these aims, and some of the alleged abilities of The Brotherhood are counter to accepted laws of physics and boundaries of modern biotechnology, The Brotherhood is none the less a powerful group, if indeed it exists (see Lúthien Tinúviel's semantic work 'Powerbroking among Secret Societies and Cults')
5 Affiliations and rivalries
5.1 Intergalactic Biomagkical Learning, Including Satanism, Trust
This group has a certain degree of animosity to The Brotherhood, since the schism that lead to The Brotherhood's creation. While no open conflict has come to light, it is believed that each group attempts to inconvenience the other group as much as possible
5.2 The Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Solomon
The recently reformed Knights Templar (see Papal directive 3678539) have declared a crusade upon The Brotherhood due to their Satanism and interest in genetic modification
5.3 Culinary Institute of America
The CIA has yet to issue an official statement on The Brotherhood, but considering the past behaviour of the institute, condimentation is likely
6 External links
http://www.freedomdomain.com/secretso.htm
http://www.conspiracyplanet.com/
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This page was last modified 08:47, 4 Feb 2005.All text is available under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License (see Copyrights for details).
About Wikipedia - Disclaimers
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
... hmm ... that was interesting ... I wonder who it is that is sad enough to write things like that ...
Closing the open window, Jack ...
-
Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
GENRE: Dream
.... And he definitely didn't want that to happen.
He squeezed through the crowds of drunken people, pushing them out of his way, not turning at their remarks. The sounds and stench enveloped him and he felt like he was lost. His heart began to beat faster. Faster. Faster. He tried to pace his breathing, but he found that it only came faster and faster. He tried to keep moving, to keep reaching for the door, but he found that he was standing still. Everything was spinning around him. The sounds were so loud. The air so thick. No air. Can't breath....
I awoke and within the daze I saw a shimmering light. A great light. I knew it should save me from the Legion. I turned and looked behind me, and I saw again the mass of death that swarmed towards me. I tried to stand, but found I couldn't. My knees were so weak from the journey that I could no longer stand. I looked in front of me once more and at the shimmering bright light. A smile crossed my lips and I was sure I was safe. I continued to stare, but something was wrong.... The light was disappearing? No! It can't! I turned towards the mass of demons behind me. They were so close. And the light was still far, and seemed to be disappearing. Tears welled in my eyes and I began to try to crawl away helplessly. No, I'd never make it, but at least I would die trying. I gripped tufts of dead grass, not that they helped any, and pulled myself away, but they were gaining. They were close. Their presence was so strong. I could feel their evil. Could feel their hate. Lust. Death. They would get me. I had no chance. The light was gone. Heaven has turned it's back on me. Hades was to be my home. Burning forever. Pain. Torture. Why had they chosen me? Wasn't there someone else to take? Why my soul? Why? Go away! Leave me be! I don't want any part of you! I turned to face the demons, and they all hovered, staring at me with such emptiness. In that moment, I almost felt sorrow for them. Such empty creatures, only knowing hell and death, hate. Why had they been chosen? Were they like me once? Just human? Turned a horrible creature? As I sat and stared, they came closer, closer, closer. They were overtaking me, entering my body, devouring my soul. I screamed in agony....
.... And he definitely didn't want that to happen.
He squeezed through the crowds of drunken people, pushing them out of his way, not turning at their remarks. The sounds and stench enveloped him and he felt like he was lost. His heart began to beat faster. Faster. Faster. He tried to pace his breathing, but he found that it only came faster and faster. He tried to keep moving, to keep reaching for the door, but he found that he was standing still. Everything was spinning around him. The sounds were so loud. The air so thick. No air. Can't breath....
I awoke and within the daze I saw a shimmering light. A great light. I knew it should save me from the Legion. I turned and looked behind me, and I saw again the mass of death that swarmed towards me. I tried to stand, but found I couldn't. My knees were so weak from the journey that I could no longer stand. I looked in front of me once more and at the shimmering bright light. A smile crossed my lips and I was sure I was safe. I continued to stare, but something was wrong.... The light was disappearing? No! It can't! I turned towards the mass of demons behind me. They were so close. And the light was still far, and seemed to be disappearing. Tears welled in my eyes and I began to try to crawl away helplessly. No, I'd never make it, but at least I would die trying. I gripped tufts of dead grass, not that they helped any, and pulled myself away, but they were gaining. They were close. Their presence was so strong. I could feel their evil. Could feel their hate. Lust. Death. They would get me. I had no chance. The light was gone. Heaven has turned it's back on me. Hades was to be my home. Burning forever. Pain. Torture. Why had they chosen me? Wasn't there someone else to take? Why my soul? Why? Go away! Leave me be! I don't want any part of you! I turned to face the demons, and they all hovered, staring at me with such emptiness. In that moment, I almost felt sorrow for them. Such empty creatures, only knowing hell and death, hate. Why had they been chosen? Were they like me once? Just human? Turned a horrible creature? As I sat and stared, they came closer, closer, closer. They were overtaking me, entering my body, devouring my soul. I screamed in agony....
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
Genre - Western
… and awoke with a yelp!. I'd sure been having some odd dreams, recently. Gnarly, asleep on the other side of the fire, stirred briefly, but lapsed back into his drunken slumber. Well, it was almost time for me to take the next watch, so I might as well get up. . .
We were ten days out from the ranch, with 4,000 head of alligator about half way to the great slaughterhouses of Mobile. When mom told me I’d be working for Igor, I hadn’t realized it was almost time for the annual gator drive. I had never been allowed to go before, and I saw this as chance to prove to Mom that I was ready to earn my spurs and be treated like a man.
Now Gnarly, he hadn’t been too happy with his first assignment, but Boss Moglin always sent the new hands out with the drive. He said it was a chance to test their mettle and see what kind of stuff they were made of. That gnarled little guy was proving himself pretty handy with a rope. And he’d shown a gentle hand with the gators. All in all, he’d been more help than I’d expected, and was even teaching me a few of his fancy rope tricks, in those rare free moments.
Meriwhen gave me a soft nnnnnniieghhhhhhhh as I mounted up, and we started out around the herd to find Igor. She was feeling frisky tonight, ready to take on any strays. I belched violently, bringing back fond memories of last night’s dinner:
.
I found Igor coming round the southern end of the heard. “Hey Igor, you really goin’ to show me the town when we get to Mobile?â€
… and awoke with a yelp!. I'd sure been having some odd dreams, recently. Gnarly, asleep on the other side of the fire, stirred briefly, but lapsed back into his drunken slumber. Well, it was almost time for me to take the next watch, so I might as well get up. . .
We were ten days out from the ranch, with 4,000 head of alligator about half way to the great slaughterhouses of Mobile. When mom told me I’d be working for Igor, I hadn’t realized it was almost time for the annual gator drive. I had never been allowed to go before, and I saw this as chance to prove to Mom that I was ready to earn my spurs and be treated like a man.
Now Gnarly, he hadn’t been too happy with his first assignment, but Boss Moglin always sent the new hands out with the drive. He said it was a chance to test their mettle and see what kind of stuff they were made of. That gnarled little guy was proving himself pretty handy with a rope. And he’d shown a gentle hand with the gators. All in all, he’d been more help than I’d expected, and was even teaching me a few of his fancy rope tricks, in those rare free moments.
Meriwhen gave me a soft nnnnnniieghhhhhhhh as I mounted up, and we started out around the herd to find Igor. She was feeling frisky tonight, ready to take on any strays. I belched violently, bringing back fond memories of last night’s dinner:
.I found Igor coming round the southern end of the heard. “Hey Igor, you really goin’ to show me the town when we get to Mobile?â€
Last edited by clong on Sat Sep 17, 2005 4:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
GENRE: Redneck Family Reunion
...just two years ago...
The old Ford sped down the dirt road, not careful of all the potholes and creeks that ran across it. Red dust flew up and clouded the air as large rocks beat against the side of the old truck, causing even more scratches and dents. I hadn't particularly wanted to come, but I hadn't really had much of a choice. Besides, there was a stream so maybe I could go fishing.
"Almost ther!"
We sped up the hill and turned right into a steep driveway. Rabbitts hopped out of the way of the truck and into the safety of the woods. I was surprised we hadn't seen more deer than we had on the way. As we rounded the corner to the house, I spotted all the other vehicles, about fifteen muddy trucks. It was then that I wished we wouldn't have been the last ones to arrive.
Pops parked into the first available spot he saw, and then we each stepped out.
"Hidy! How yalls a doin ther? Thoughtcha wootin ever make it!" The man stood on the front porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his beer.
"Well, by George! Is thatchoo Bob?" my mother said, running to the man on the porch, obviously "Bob."
For several moments I stood by the truck while I watched people pour out of the house and into the front yard, greeting my parents. It was then that I knew this weekend was to be an absolute nightmare. I wished I could just climb back into the truck and curl up in the floor and remain hidden.
Suddenly everything changed....
I looked and behold, an angel appeared from the house. She had golden brown hair pulled back in loose pig tails. She wore a plaid blue and yellow shirt with a pair of tight jeans and she was barefoot. She ddin't see me at the moment, as I was in the shadows of the yard, shielded by a tree. I just stared and stared, and watched her smile. Oh, how gorgeous. Then, my heart dropped as she went back inside the house.
I didn't see her again until it was time for dinner.
I was walking through the woods, a lantern to light my way, and going towards the bonfire that Bob and the other men had built. I could already see some of them roasting their hotdogs with sticks and sitting on the planks of wood that had been layed across cement blocks to provide someplace to sit. Beer cans were already littering the ground around us and I winced as I realized they were shooting off bottlerockets.
Yes, I lived in the woods. Yes, I lived in the south. But this was absolutely ridiculous. I was ashamed to call them my family.
"Hi, Jack," a woman said. I had no idea who she was. "Have you met Sally SueAnn?"
"Umm, not that I know of," I replied.
"Well, yall need to meet." The woman smiled and when the fire light lit across her face, it revealed only a few gray teeth.
I followed her, and when I looked up, I saw my angel once again.
"Sally SueAnn, this is Jack, your father's, sister's, uncle's, daughter's, cousin's, husband's, mother's, aunt's granddaughter. I thought you two mite like to talk, since yall are close to tha same age."
I smiled brightly and the woman walked away.
Over the next few hours, I knew I'd found the perfect girl. Yeah, we were related, but everyone is. And it seemed like a far off relation. With her, I was able to escape the firecrackers and bottle rockets, the drinking, and all the crap that went on. I was in my own world with her. It was just Sally SueAnn and me. I didn't know where I'd be sleeping that night, but I knew I'd be sneaking off to find her. At that moment, I felt like I could not live a moment without her. I had found my love at a family reunion.
That night...
...just two years ago...
The old Ford sped down the dirt road, not careful of all the potholes and creeks that ran across it. Red dust flew up and clouded the air as large rocks beat against the side of the old truck, causing even more scratches and dents. I hadn't particularly wanted to come, but I hadn't really had much of a choice. Besides, there was a stream so maybe I could go fishing.
"Almost ther!"
We sped up the hill and turned right into a steep driveway. Rabbitts hopped out of the way of the truck and into the safety of the woods. I was surprised we hadn't seen more deer than we had on the way. As we rounded the corner to the house, I spotted all the other vehicles, about fifteen muddy trucks. It was then that I wished we wouldn't have been the last ones to arrive.
Pops parked into the first available spot he saw, and then we each stepped out.
"Hidy! How yalls a doin ther? Thoughtcha wootin ever make it!" The man stood on the front porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his beer.
"Well, by George! Is thatchoo Bob?" my mother said, running to the man on the porch, obviously "Bob."
For several moments I stood by the truck while I watched people pour out of the house and into the front yard, greeting my parents. It was then that I knew this weekend was to be an absolute nightmare. I wished I could just climb back into the truck and curl up in the floor and remain hidden.
Suddenly everything changed....
I looked and behold, an angel appeared from the house. She had golden brown hair pulled back in loose pig tails. She wore a plaid blue and yellow shirt with a pair of tight jeans and she was barefoot. She ddin't see me at the moment, as I was in the shadows of the yard, shielded by a tree. I just stared and stared, and watched her smile. Oh, how gorgeous. Then, my heart dropped as she went back inside the house.
I didn't see her again until it was time for dinner.
I was walking through the woods, a lantern to light my way, and going towards the bonfire that Bob and the other men had built. I could already see some of them roasting their hotdogs with sticks and sitting on the planks of wood that had been layed across cement blocks to provide someplace to sit. Beer cans were already littering the ground around us and I winced as I realized they were shooting off bottlerockets.
Yes, I lived in the woods. Yes, I lived in the south. But this was absolutely ridiculous. I was ashamed to call them my family.
"Hi, Jack," a woman said. I had no idea who she was. "Have you met Sally SueAnn?"
"Umm, not that I know of," I replied.
"Well, yall need to meet." The woman smiled and when the fire light lit across her face, it revealed only a few gray teeth.
I followed her, and when I looked up, I saw my angel once again.
"Sally SueAnn, this is Jack, your father's, sister's, uncle's, daughter's, cousin's, husband's, mother's, aunt's granddaughter. I thought you two mite like to talk, since yall are close to tha same age."
I smiled brightly and the woman walked away.
Over the next few hours, I knew I'd found the perfect girl. Yeah, we were related, but everyone is. And it seemed like a far off relation. With her, I was able to escape the firecrackers and bottle rockets, the drinking, and all the crap that went on. I was in my own world with her. It was just Sally SueAnn and me. I didn't know where I'd be sleeping that night, but I knew I'd be sneaking off to find her. At that moment, I felt like I could not live a moment without her. I had found my love at a family reunion.
That night...
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
That night . . .
[GENRE - MODERATOR’S DISCLAIMER]
It has been brought to our attention that certain unflattering stereotypes are being perpetuated in the Volleyball 2005 thread, and I have been asked by our legal advisors to make it clear that the IBDoF in no way endorses the opinions expressed in the thread.
You will no doubt have noted that this story is set in the American South. We recognize that the South has made many important contributions to world culture, such as, uh, <i>Gone with the Wind</i> and grits. And that some Southerners do not drive pickup trucks, nor do all southerners have three first names. The allusion to the widely disseminated myth that the residents of the fine state of Alabama practice rampant incest (even if only with their father's, sister's, uncle's, daughter's, cousin's, husband's, mother's, aunt's granddaughter) is also unfortunate.
Some of our altitude challenged members have also complained about the unflattering depiction of gnomalness in the character of Gnarly. We wish to asseverate our position that, while many short people may indeed be drunken licentious wankers, there are undoubtedly several out there who are good upstanding citizens.
Any suggestion that the leadership of secret societies is entirely made up of sadistic, satanic, undead-loving perverts is also an exaggeration, and not an officially sanctioned position of the IBDoF. Indeed our own Evil Empress is beloved by all our members as a paragon of universal kindness and virtue.
I also wish to point out to any of our users who are not knowledgeable about recent theological theory that <i>The Book of MacElroy</i> is considered apocryphal by most Biblical scholars. Please note that the vision of the apocalypse offered in its later chapters contradicts canonical texts on many important points. Furthermore, the path to spiritual enlightenment offered by its author should be viewed with some skepticism, especially those parts dealing with left-handedness.
The depiction of the medical staff of Sunny Jim's Convalescent Psychiatric Hospital as drunken lazy cowardly sadists has also engendered numerous complaints. Drs. Friyo, Spasm, Meoff and Feely are not intended to represent an accurate portrayal of members of the highly respectable psychiatric field. We recognize that only a minority of such esteemed professionals are drunken, lazy, cowardly AND sadistic.
Finally any group of people generally familiar with the dystopian masterpieces of fiction knows far better than to question the security actions of its government, and the comedic mention of the PRYALOT ACT should in no way be construed as questioning the wisdom of our recently reelected administration.
Now, back to our story of young Jack’s quest for nocturnal romantic adventures . . .
[GENRE - MODERATOR’S DISCLAIMER]
It has been brought to our attention that certain unflattering stereotypes are being perpetuated in the Volleyball 2005 thread, and I have been asked by our legal advisors to make it clear that the IBDoF in no way endorses the opinions expressed in the thread.
You will no doubt have noted that this story is set in the American South. We recognize that the South has made many important contributions to world culture, such as, uh, <i>Gone with the Wind</i> and grits. And that some Southerners do not drive pickup trucks, nor do all southerners have three first names. The allusion to the widely disseminated myth that the residents of the fine state of Alabama practice rampant incest (even if only with their father's, sister's, uncle's, daughter's, cousin's, husband's, mother's, aunt's granddaughter) is also unfortunate.
Some of our altitude challenged members have also complained about the unflattering depiction of gnomalness in the character of Gnarly. We wish to asseverate our position that, while many short people may indeed be drunken licentious wankers, there are undoubtedly several out there who are good upstanding citizens.
Any suggestion that the leadership of secret societies is entirely made up of sadistic, satanic, undead-loving perverts is also an exaggeration, and not an officially sanctioned position of the IBDoF. Indeed our own Evil Empress is beloved by all our members as a paragon of universal kindness and virtue.
I also wish to point out to any of our users who are not knowledgeable about recent theological theory that <i>The Book of MacElroy</i> is considered apocryphal by most Biblical scholars. Please note that the vision of the apocalypse offered in its later chapters contradicts canonical texts on many important points. Furthermore, the path to spiritual enlightenment offered by its author should be viewed with some skepticism, especially those parts dealing with left-handedness.
The depiction of the medical staff of Sunny Jim's Convalescent Psychiatric Hospital as drunken lazy cowardly sadists has also engendered numerous complaints. Drs. Friyo, Spasm, Meoff and Feely are not intended to represent an accurate portrayal of members of the highly respectable psychiatric field. We recognize that only a minority of such esteemed professionals are drunken, lazy, cowardly AND sadistic.
Finally any group of people generally familiar with the dystopian masterpieces of fiction knows far better than to question the security actions of its government, and the comedic mention of the PRYALOT ACT should in no way be construed as questioning the wisdom of our recently reelected administration.
Now, back to our story of young Jack’s quest for nocturnal romantic adventures . . .
-
Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
GENRE: Heartbreaking Romance
I lay quietly on the floor, staring into the darkness. I had been laying there for about three hours, waiting for everyone to stop stirring and go to sleep. Sally SueAnn was in the room right next to me. Knowing how close she was was killing me. Something about her was truly special. I wasn't sure what it was, and I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to know. Maybe the secrecy of that one thing intensified it. Not knowing what it was about her. What I did know was that she had stolen my heart away and that I would do anything for her.
Figuring that everyone was probably asleep by now, I pulled back the sheet that lay over me and stood slowly. I had had plenty of time to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, so I could see pretty well. I tip-toed my way over to Sally SueAnn's room. As I neared her I could hear her breath. Just the sound was so sweet and precious. God, was I going insane? I had only known her for a few hours! I already wondered though how I ever made it without her.
I gingerly laid down beside her and wrapped my arm around her. I lay quiet for a moment, before placing my face against her neck, kissing her softly. Her skin was so sweet... Pulling myself closer, I tightened my grip, but continued to kiss her neck.
"Jack?" I heard her whisper.
"Yes, love?"
I could sense her smile as she turned towards me, then I suddenly felt her lips burn against mine. God! My mind exploded with passion and I could not hold myself back. I pulled her as close as possible and placed my hand on her face as I kissed her, so eager to taste the sweet honey of her mouth. I only kissed her softly until it became obvious that she wanted more. She quickly put both her hands on the back of my head and pressed harder and harder, kissing me forcefully. A thrill shot through my body and I thought I should never get enough of her.
She pulled away, though she had a little difficulty. "We have...to...to go some....where else." She was panting for breath and I could feel her breast heaving against my chest.
I said not a word, but quickly stood and picked her up, unable to resist kissing her as I did so, whether it was on her lips, or her open chest. I carried her out of the room, but where could we go? There were people everywhere....
"The hayfield..." she said, as if reading my mind. I obeyed and navigated to the door, stepping out onto porch and walking down the steps in my barefeet. It was quite a ways to go, but at that point, I was willing to go any distance. Of course, I would have stopped in the front yard, but...no.
A torturous walk it was, but how beautiful the night and the love we made. I had never felt so at peace as then; lying on the hill in a hay field, holding my dearest love, staring up at the moon and stars. I had never felt so complete in my life. I had found my home, and it was with her.
There we lay till dawn, two naked bodies lying intwined in perfect peace. It was a night that neither of us would ever forget.
But, oh, the heartbreak....
I brought myself back to reality, tears welling in my eyes. I couldn't understand it, didn't think I ever would. I was determined to win her back though. Mackelroy would not take my sweet love from me. No one could take her away....
My thoughts went back to the reunion....
Once we had gotten back, before anyone ever knew, she had gotten cleaned up and had to go. The last time I had seen her was when I told her I loved her and that I would be right back. But when I returned, she wasn't there. She had gone.
I was heartbroken for a year and a half. I could not find her. How could she do that to me? I would never be happy and complete without her. I cried for days, weeks. I prayed she'd show up. I worried myself into sickness. I could not survive without her.
Then I found her....
It was when we'd had to move and I had to transfer schools. I walked into my first class late....and there she was. My angel. So beautiful, so sweet. Even more so than I had remembered....
"Ann?" I had said. I had taken up calling her that. "Oh, my love! Where have you been?" I dropped my books and ran to her, throwing my arms around her.
"Who are you?" she said in disgust. "Get away from me!" Frantically, she began pushing me away.
I stood and stared into her eyes. "Ann....tell me....did you forget? Have you forgotten?"
She had a look of puzzlement on her face, which turned to disgust as tears began to roll down my face. Since her, I had not hidden my feelings, what I felt, I felt. If it showed, it showed. I caused quite a dramatic emotional scene and I allowed my mind to skip over those memories.
Either she didn't remember, or her love was untrue. Everytime I saw her she was with Mackelroy. But I knew he didn't love her, no one could love her but me. Only I could love her. Only me. Maybe if she could see me as a man it would change things. Just maybe she'd forget him and realize how much she meant to me and how much we needed each other....
I pushed the thoughts from my mind and remembered where I was....herding alligators.... I turned as....
I lay quietly on the floor, staring into the darkness. I had been laying there for about three hours, waiting for everyone to stop stirring and go to sleep. Sally SueAnn was in the room right next to me. Knowing how close she was was killing me. Something about her was truly special. I wasn't sure what it was, and I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to know. Maybe the secrecy of that one thing intensified it. Not knowing what it was about her. What I did know was that she had stolen my heart away and that I would do anything for her.
Figuring that everyone was probably asleep by now, I pulled back the sheet that lay over me and stood slowly. I had had plenty of time to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, so I could see pretty well. I tip-toed my way over to Sally SueAnn's room. As I neared her I could hear her breath. Just the sound was so sweet and precious. God, was I going insane? I had only known her for a few hours! I already wondered though how I ever made it without her.
I gingerly laid down beside her and wrapped my arm around her. I lay quiet for a moment, before placing my face against her neck, kissing her softly. Her skin was so sweet... Pulling myself closer, I tightened my grip, but continued to kiss her neck.
"Jack?" I heard her whisper.
"Yes, love?"
I could sense her smile as she turned towards me, then I suddenly felt her lips burn against mine. God! My mind exploded with passion and I could not hold myself back. I pulled her as close as possible and placed my hand on her face as I kissed her, so eager to taste the sweet honey of her mouth. I only kissed her softly until it became obvious that she wanted more. She quickly put both her hands on the back of my head and pressed harder and harder, kissing me forcefully. A thrill shot through my body and I thought I should never get enough of her.
She pulled away, though she had a little difficulty. "We have...to...to go some....where else." She was panting for breath and I could feel her breast heaving against my chest.
I said not a word, but quickly stood and picked her up, unable to resist kissing her as I did so, whether it was on her lips, or her open chest. I carried her out of the room, but where could we go? There were people everywhere....
"The hayfield..." she said, as if reading my mind. I obeyed and navigated to the door, stepping out onto porch and walking down the steps in my barefeet. It was quite a ways to go, but at that point, I was willing to go any distance. Of course, I would have stopped in the front yard, but...no.
A torturous walk it was, but how beautiful the night and the love we made. I had never felt so at peace as then; lying on the hill in a hay field, holding my dearest love, staring up at the moon and stars. I had never felt so complete in my life. I had found my home, and it was with her.
There we lay till dawn, two naked bodies lying intwined in perfect peace. It was a night that neither of us would ever forget.
But, oh, the heartbreak....
I brought myself back to reality, tears welling in my eyes. I couldn't understand it, didn't think I ever would. I was determined to win her back though. Mackelroy would not take my sweet love from me. No one could take her away....
My thoughts went back to the reunion....
Once we had gotten back, before anyone ever knew, she had gotten cleaned up and had to go. The last time I had seen her was when I told her I loved her and that I would be right back. But when I returned, she wasn't there. She had gone.
I was heartbroken for a year and a half. I could not find her. How could she do that to me? I would never be happy and complete without her. I cried for days, weeks. I prayed she'd show up. I worried myself into sickness. I could not survive without her.
Then I found her....
It was when we'd had to move and I had to transfer schools. I walked into my first class late....and there she was. My angel. So beautiful, so sweet. Even more so than I had remembered....
"Ann?" I had said. I had taken up calling her that. "Oh, my love! Where have you been?" I dropped my books and ran to her, throwing my arms around her.
"Who are you?" she said in disgust. "Get away from me!" Frantically, she began pushing me away.
I stood and stared into her eyes. "Ann....tell me....did you forget? Have you forgotten?"
She had a look of puzzlement on her face, which turned to disgust as tears began to roll down my face. Since her, I had not hidden my feelings, what I felt, I felt. If it showed, it showed. I caused quite a dramatic emotional scene and I allowed my mind to skip over those memories.
Either she didn't remember, or her love was untrue. Everytime I saw her she was with Mackelroy. But I knew he didn't love her, no one could love her but me. Only I could love her. Only me. Maybe if she could see me as a man it would change things. Just maybe she'd forget him and realize how much she meant to me and how much we needed each other....
I pushed the thoughts from my mind and remembered where I was....herding alligators.... I turned as....
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
GENRE: Resumé Cover Letter
...what looked to be a relaxed game of blackjack. I noticed a couple of sheets of foolscap on the floor on my feet, bent over and picked them up. The first seemed to be a cover letter of some sort rendered in an elegant yet archaic font. Curious, I began to read.
Greetings (the letter began authoritatively). I am Thor Valhalla Jorgenson Bjorka of the Great Mammoth Hunter tribe. I am from the North Country. It is my distinguished honour to make your acquaintance, and to humbly submit my application for employment to your noble and far-reaching corporation of caterers and servers.
The Great Mammoth Hunter tribe is revered throughout the North Country, where I am from. Did I say I am from the North Country already? The North Country is large, and my tribe, the Great Mammoth Hunter tribe, is revered largely throughout it. My tribal ancestors possessed many great skills, which have been passed down from generation to generation. These skills have been genetically encoded in my cells, the cells of the Great Mammoth Hunter tribe from the North Country, where I am from.
My father, the great Baldar Odin Smorgasboard Bjorka, taught me many great skills, as were taught to him by his father, my grandfather, the great Eric Bombur Von Shporgen Shish-Ka-Bob Bjorka Junior. His father, my great grandfather, the noble Eric Bombajorka Svendorf Von Shporgen Shish-Ka-Bob Son Kite Jondalar Oslo-Mofo Ikea Dag Bjorka Senior was perhaps the greatest warrior and hunter and procreator of all time. It is HIS noble and powerful sperm from which I am descended, and this means that my own sperm is equally powerful and immensely fertile.
But wait. I am getting ahead of myself here. I am sorry. It is so easy for me to become lost in the glorious history of my tribe.
The skills of the Great Mammoth Hunter tribe are numerous and vast. I can hurl rocks and stones very far. I can push great boulders to the tops of mountains and roll them down the other side, gutting caribou and fish with my free hand as I do so. I can break wind thunderously and at will, striking terror into the hearts of predatory beasts and undesirable dinner companions. I carve beautiful and profound sculptures out of mammoth tusks using only my teeth. My hands can tear the living heart from the chest of a wild boar or caress a consort’s ample bosom with equal versatility. Critics worldwide swoon over my personal line of Mammoth-Fur Evening Wear for the Nord on the go.
My strength and speed is equalled only by the extraordinary length of my reproductive organ. I can survive in high mountain regions indefinitely without food or water, eating only moss and kindling fire with my breath. I have said many oft-quoted things. Chances are you have already repeated some phrase I myself coined. We do not generally use the phrase “coinedâ€
...what looked to be a relaxed game of blackjack. I noticed a couple of sheets of foolscap on the floor on my feet, bent over and picked them up. The first seemed to be a cover letter of some sort rendered in an elegant yet archaic font. Curious, I began to read.
Greetings (the letter began authoritatively). I am Thor Valhalla Jorgenson Bjorka of the Great Mammoth Hunter tribe. I am from the North Country. It is my distinguished honour to make your acquaintance, and to humbly submit my application for employment to your noble and far-reaching corporation of caterers and servers.
The Great Mammoth Hunter tribe is revered throughout the North Country, where I am from. Did I say I am from the North Country already? The North Country is large, and my tribe, the Great Mammoth Hunter tribe, is revered largely throughout it. My tribal ancestors possessed many great skills, which have been passed down from generation to generation. These skills have been genetically encoded in my cells, the cells of the Great Mammoth Hunter tribe from the North Country, where I am from.
My father, the great Baldar Odin Smorgasboard Bjorka, taught me many great skills, as were taught to him by his father, my grandfather, the great Eric Bombur Von Shporgen Shish-Ka-Bob Bjorka Junior. His father, my great grandfather, the noble Eric Bombajorka Svendorf Von Shporgen Shish-Ka-Bob Son Kite Jondalar Oslo-Mofo Ikea Dag Bjorka Senior was perhaps the greatest warrior and hunter and procreator of all time. It is HIS noble and powerful sperm from which I am descended, and this means that my own sperm is equally powerful and immensely fertile.
But wait. I am getting ahead of myself here. I am sorry. It is so easy for me to become lost in the glorious history of my tribe.
The skills of the Great Mammoth Hunter tribe are numerous and vast. I can hurl rocks and stones very far. I can push great boulders to the tops of mountains and roll them down the other side, gutting caribou and fish with my free hand as I do so. I can break wind thunderously and at will, striking terror into the hearts of predatory beasts and undesirable dinner companions. I carve beautiful and profound sculptures out of mammoth tusks using only my teeth. My hands can tear the living heart from the chest of a wild boar or caress a consort’s ample bosom with equal versatility. Critics worldwide swoon over my personal line of Mammoth-Fur Evening Wear for the Nord on the go.
My strength and speed is equalled only by the extraordinary length of my reproductive organ. I can survive in high mountain regions indefinitely without food or water, eating only moss and kindling fire with my breath. I have said many oft-quoted things. Chances are you have already repeated some phrase I myself coined. We do not generally use the phrase “coinedâ€
Colourless green ideas sleep furiously
-
ChoChiyo
- Artificial Intellect
- Posts: 10882
- Joined: Sat Aug 28, 2004 1:06 pm
- Location: The middle of a Minnesota cornfield
- Contact:
I glanced up as I heard Dad say, “Boy!”
“Yes, Great Pukka,” I replied, unable to help feeling that nasty twist of dread that curled in my belly any time either my illustrious father or his inamorata, my mother, the quintessential empress of evil.
Dad frowned. He doesn’t like the way I pronounce pukka—pfuh-kuh. Well. He can’t PROVE anything. I make sure I say it with the most subservient, respectful tone of any minion. Putting that little pfuh consonant in there helps me cling to the minute scrap of self-esteem I’ve managed to maintain in this psychotic crap-fest that is my family.
“Gnarly has given me a good report regarding your participation on the gator driven.” He looked disappointed. Probably he was. Devising unique and fundamentally perverse “consequences” is his avocation. It always disappoints him when I don’t screw up, and he doesn’t get the opportunity to go all Evil Overlord on my ass. One of his all time favorites was when he hung me from the hooks on my bedroom ceiling and forced me to watch The Sound of Music for 72 hours straight while administering nonlethal but painful jolts of electricity randomly to various sensitive parts of my anatomy. Oh—and he always video tapes these little “consequences,” too. Family get-togethers and Christmas parties are just one great big barrel of laughs at our house.
“Yes, oh Greatest of all the Great Pfuh-kuhs.” I kept my face perfectly straight and nauseatingly respectful—but inside, I was rolling hysterically on the floor of my soul.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. He knew I was being disrespectful to him. He knew I knew he knew, and he knew he could never prove it and therefore could not punish me for it. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Sometimes life is sweet.
He scowled. “Since you have reestablished some degree of *ahem* reliability, the Empress and I have decided to assign you a surveillance mission.”
Surveillance? AWESOME, I thought. I thought I could escape this crap hole and get into the real world. Perhaps I could even swing by school and see Sally Sue-Ann. Oh, baby! But no. I could never be that lucky.
“There’s been some activity on the Knights Templar discussion forum that I want monitored.” He smiled as he saw the sparkle die in my eyes.
Glad my misery gives you such pleasure, dad, I thought spuriously.
“I’ll expect reports and corroborated documentations daily.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or the consequences will be … harsh. He smiled maliciously. As if the consequences were ever anything but harsh.
I hooded my eyes so he would not see the unadulterated loathing there. “As you command, great PFuh-kuh.” You piece of offal, you, I mentally added.
He exited, whistling some dreary little ditty, and I shuffled down to my cell and booted up my computer. Stupid world, I grumbled to myself. Why couldn’t I have been born to a normal family? I googled up Knights Templar and found their site. Stupid Knights Templar. Some secret society when anybody can google into their so-called secret website. I sighed.
My IM comes up as soon as I log on, and I have a bunch of contacts on my “friends” list. My cyber friends are the only ones I have. Anybody I met in the real world either runs screaming away from whatever freaky minions I have with me, or else we kill them before I get a chance to even know them.
[Genre: Instant Messenger Conversation]
Echo_Corpuscle Yo, duuuuude! Long time no see! Where you been?
Devil’s_Child Hey, Corpuscle. Been doin’ some work for my dad. Sucks. How are you?
Echo_Corpuscle Good dude. Went to a concert last weekend. SWEET.
Devil’s_Child Lucky you. I got to hear my lame-ass Dad whistle this morning.
Echo_Corpuscle Yee! Sucks to be you! BRB.
Don’t I know it, I thought grimly as I scrolled through the sad collection of rhetoric on the Templar website.
The musical Brrrrrinnnng of the IM announced a new message. I looked back, hoping to (vicariously) live the life of a real (lucky swine) teenager through Echo_Corpuscle, but it was someone different. I wondered how the heck HE got added to my friends list. I never put him there.
Bardboy Hey.
Devil’s_Child Yo.
Bardboy Have we met?
Devil’s_Child Don’t think so.
Bardboy I haven’t been on-line much before. My sister is addicted to the internet. She’s always in there blogging or something.
Devil’s_Child You got a sister? Is she cute?
Bardboy Yuck. I don’t think of my sister that way.
Devil’s_Child LOL I spose not.
Bardboy Where are you from?
Devil’s_Child Oh, gods! Everywhere. I don’t have time to tell you all the places I’ve lived.
Bardboy Military brat?
Devil’s_Child Erm—well, something like that.
Bardboy Ah. Me, I’ve lived in the same redneck crap-hole trailer park my whole life. It must be great to see the world.
Devil’s_Child That kinda depends on which parts of it you’re seeing. Heh heh.
Bardboy I’d take ANYTHING—it’d have to be better than Redneckville with my Momma and Daddy.
Devil’s_Child Yeah. Tell me about it. My mom and dad suck the gigantic weenie of the universe.
Bardboy Heh. No way they’re worse than mine. You ever had books ripped right out of your hands and torn to shred before your eyes? Good books?
Devil’s_Child Heh. You ever had to clean out pits of crap?
Bardboy Oh, you live on a farm?
Devil’s_Child Lol. I’d say it was more like a zoo.
Bardboy Oh. Well, that must be interesting.
I thought of the three eyed dogs the size of wooly mammoths down in the kennels under Mom’s study. They’d just had their litters last week. The little ones had already chewed up three imps and a full fledged demon.
Devil’s_Child Yeah. Real interesting--not.
Bardboy My mom and dad are fanatics. Crazy religion. Anything you do, you’re going to hell.
Devil’s_Child Mine too—only I’ve already BEEN to hell. Trust me, they’re right about the heat—and the stink OMG!
Bardboy lol. You’re funny.
Devil’s_Child Lol. Yeah, but looks don’t count.
Bardboy So, what do you do for fun.
Devil’s_Child Irritate my old man and old lady. Once I stuck dynamite in a pound of hamburger and tossed it to on of the gators. That was choice. KA-BLOOIE! How about you?
Bardboy ROFLMAO.
Devil’s_Child Yep. Fun while it lasted. Wasn’t so much fun facing the music afterwards. The old man was PISSED.
Bardboy Eh. I irritate my Momma and Daddy just by being alive. “Why can’t you be more like Bobby-Ray Jr? Why you always walking around with your nose in a book? What do you mean by questioning the inspired word of God? Eat your goddam hamhocks and greens. It’s sickening.
Devil’s_Child I hear you. The Pukkas don’t think I have sense enough to steer clear of a magma chasm. Don’t you think before you act? Why can’t you do anything right? What’s your excuse for botching this mission?
Bardboy Sounds like we’ve both got dysfunctional families.
Devil’s_Child You got that right.
Jack leaned morosely against the back of his computer chair and stared into the screen. Knowing that someone else was at least as miserable as he himself was not comforting in the least.
Devil’s_Child Dude, I gotta go.
Bardboy Homework?
Devil’s_Child Erm—something like that.
Bardboy Ah. I gotta go too. Lessons.
Devil’s_Child Okay then. It was good chatting with you.
Bardboy Yeah, same here. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.
Devil’s_Child Right-oh.
Signing out of Instant Messenger, Jack returned to his perusal of the Message Board of the Knights Templar.
My life sucks, he thought as he….
.
“Yes, Great Pukka,” I replied, unable to help feeling that nasty twist of dread that curled in my belly any time either my illustrious father or his inamorata, my mother, the quintessential empress of evil.
Dad frowned. He doesn’t like the way I pronounce pukka—pfuh-kuh. Well. He can’t PROVE anything. I make sure I say it with the most subservient, respectful tone of any minion. Putting that little pfuh consonant in there helps me cling to the minute scrap of self-esteem I’ve managed to maintain in this psychotic crap-fest that is my family.
“Gnarly has given me a good report regarding your participation on the gator driven.” He looked disappointed. Probably he was. Devising unique and fundamentally perverse “consequences” is his avocation. It always disappoints him when I don’t screw up, and he doesn’t get the opportunity to go all Evil Overlord on my ass. One of his all time favorites was when he hung me from the hooks on my bedroom ceiling and forced me to watch The Sound of Music for 72 hours straight while administering nonlethal but painful jolts of electricity randomly to various sensitive parts of my anatomy. Oh—and he always video tapes these little “consequences,” too. Family get-togethers and Christmas parties are just one great big barrel of laughs at our house.
“Yes, oh Greatest of all the Great Pfuh-kuhs.” I kept my face perfectly straight and nauseatingly respectful—but inside, I was rolling hysterically on the floor of my soul.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. He knew I was being disrespectful to him. He knew I knew he knew, and he knew he could never prove it and therefore could not punish me for it. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Sometimes life is sweet.
He scowled. “Since you have reestablished some degree of *ahem* reliability, the Empress and I have decided to assign you a surveillance mission.”
Surveillance? AWESOME, I thought. I thought I could escape this crap hole and get into the real world. Perhaps I could even swing by school and see Sally Sue-Ann. Oh, baby! But no. I could never be that lucky.
“There’s been some activity on the Knights Templar discussion forum that I want monitored.” He smiled as he saw the sparkle die in my eyes.
Glad my misery gives you such pleasure, dad, I thought spuriously.
“I’ll expect reports and corroborated documentations daily.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or the consequences will be … harsh. He smiled maliciously. As if the consequences were ever anything but harsh.
I hooded my eyes so he would not see the unadulterated loathing there. “As you command, great PFuh-kuh.” You piece of offal, you, I mentally added.
He exited, whistling some dreary little ditty, and I shuffled down to my cell and booted up my computer. Stupid world, I grumbled to myself. Why couldn’t I have been born to a normal family? I googled up Knights Templar and found their site. Stupid Knights Templar. Some secret society when anybody can google into their so-called secret website. I sighed.
My IM comes up as soon as I log on, and I have a bunch of contacts on my “friends” list. My cyber friends are the only ones I have. Anybody I met in the real world either runs screaming away from whatever freaky minions I have with me, or else we kill them before I get a chance to even know them.
[Genre: Instant Messenger Conversation]
Echo_Corpuscle Yo, duuuuude! Long time no see! Where you been?
Devil’s_Child Hey, Corpuscle. Been doin’ some work for my dad. Sucks. How are you?
Echo_Corpuscle Good dude. Went to a concert last weekend. SWEET.
Devil’s_Child Lucky you. I got to hear my lame-ass Dad whistle this morning.
Echo_Corpuscle Yee! Sucks to be you! BRB.
Don’t I know it, I thought grimly as I scrolled through the sad collection of rhetoric on the Templar website.
Posted by: Sir Lyle
Beauty is truth. Truth is beauty!
Oh, man! This stuff is just pathetic.Posted by: Sir William
Rage! Rage against the dying of the Light!
The musical Brrrrrinnnng of the IM announced a new message. I looked back, hoping to (vicariously) live the life of a real (lucky swine) teenager through Echo_Corpuscle, but it was someone different. I wondered how the heck HE got added to my friends list. I never put him there.
Bardboy Hey.
Devil’s_Child Yo.
Bardboy Have we met?
Devil’s_Child Don’t think so.
Bardboy I haven’t been on-line much before. My sister is addicted to the internet. She’s always in there blogging or something.
Devil’s_Child You got a sister? Is she cute?
Bardboy Yuck. I don’t think of my sister that way.
Devil’s_Child LOL I spose not.
Bardboy Where are you from?
Devil’s_Child Oh, gods! Everywhere. I don’t have time to tell you all the places I’ve lived.
Bardboy Military brat?
Devil’s_Child Erm—well, something like that.
Bardboy Ah. Me, I’ve lived in the same redneck crap-hole trailer park my whole life. It must be great to see the world.
Devil’s_Child That kinda depends on which parts of it you’re seeing. Heh heh.
Bardboy I’d take ANYTHING—it’d have to be better than Redneckville with my Momma and Daddy.
Devil’s_Child Yeah. Tell me about it. My mom and dad suck the gigantic weenie of the universe.
Bardboy Heh. No way they’re worse than mine. You ever had books ripped right out of your hands and torn to shred before your eyes? Good books?
Devil’s_Child Heh. You ever had to clean out pits of crap?
Bardboy Oh, you live on a farm?
Devil’s_Child Lol. I’d say it was more like a zoo.
Bardboy Oh. Well, that must be interesting.
I thought of the three eyed dogs the size of wooly mammoths down in the kennels under Mom’s study. They’d just had their litters last week. The little ones had already chewed up three imps and a full fledged demon.
Devil’s_Child Yeah. Real interesting--not.
Bardboy My mom and dad are fanatics. Crazy religion. Anything you do, you’re going to hell.
Devil’s_Child Mine too—only I’ve already BEEN to hell. Trust me, they’re right about the heat—and the stink OMG!
Bardboy lol. You’re funny.
Devil’s_Child Lol. Yeah, but looks don’t count.
Bardboy So, what do you do for fun.
Devil’s_Child Irritate my old man and old lady. Once I stuck dynamite in a pound of hamburger and tossed it to on of the gators. That was choice. KA-BLOOIE! How about you?
Bardboy ROFLMAO.
Devil’s_Child Yep. Fun while it lasted. Wasn’t so much fun facing the music afterwards. The old man was PISSED.
Bardboy Eh. I irritate my Momma and Daddy just by being alive. “Why can’t you be more like Bobby-Ray Jr? Why you always walking around with your nose in a book? What do you mean by questioning the inspired word of God? Eat your goddam hamhocks and greens. It’s sickening.
Devil’s_Child I hear you. The Pukkas don’t think I have sense enough to steer clear of a magma chasm. Don’t you think before you act? Why can’t you do anything right? What’s your excuse for botching this mission?
Bardboy Sounds like we’ve both got dysfunctional families.
Devil’s_Child You got that right.
Jack leaned morosely against the back of his computer chair and stared into the screen. Knowing that someone else was at least as miserable as he himself was not comforting in the least.
Devil’s_Child Dude, I gotta go.
Bardboy Homework?
Devil’s_Child Erm—something like that.
Bardboy Ah. I gotta go too. Lessons.
Devil’s_Child Okay then. It was good chatting with you.
Bardboy Yeah, same here. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.
Devil’s_Child Right-oh.
Signing out of Instant Messenger, Jack returned to his perusal of the Message Board of the Knights Templar.
My life sucks, he thought as he….
.
I am a poor, wayfaring stranger
Wandering through this world of woe
But there's no sickness, no fear or danger
In that bright land
To which I go
Wandering through this world of woe
But there's no sickness, no fear or danger
In that bright land
To which I go
Jack returned to his perusal of the Message Board of the Knights Templar.
My life sucks, he thought as he was overcome by ennui. Man, this is boring, there is nothing going on here . . . I know, let me see if anything is on television. . . the remote was close to hand. Aha, this looks interesting.
Genre - Advertisement for a Television Reality Show
We’ll be back to Monday Night Backgammon in a few moments, but first . . . You won’t want to miss tomorrow night's episode of
Survivor: Knights Templar
That’s right! Don't miss the show which has turned Tuesday nights into the most popular viewing night of the week! We continue to follow a group of young Turcopoles as they battle each other, heathens, and the evil forces of the underworld. At the end of season the winning contestant will join our national Team Templar for the final battle with the evil forces of the Brotherhood.
Each week, one of the knights is voted off the crusade, and dies a particularly horrid, gruesome death selected by you, our viewing audience. Log in to http://www.dietemplarwannabe.com to cast your vote!
This week’s episode features “Team Tripoli and Antiochâ€
My life sucks, he thought as he was overcome by ennui. Man, this is boring, there is nothing going on here . . . I know, let me see if anything is on television. . . the remote was close to hand. Aha, this looks interesting.
Genre - Advertisement for a Television Reality Show
We’ll be back to Monday Night Backgammon in a few moments, but first . . . You won’t want to miss tomorrow night's episode of
Survivor: Knights Templar
That’s right! Don't miss the show which has turned Tuesday nights into the most popular viewing night of the week! We continue to follow a group of young Turcopoles as they battle each other, heathens, and the evil forces of the underworld. At the end of season the winning contestant will join our national Team Templar for the final battle with the evil forces of the Brotherhood.
Each week, one of the knights is voted off the crusade, and dies a particularly horrid, gruesome death selected by you, our viewing audience. Log in to http://www.dietemplarwannabe.com to cast your vote!
This week’s episode features “Team Tripoli and Antiochâ€
...to try and convince Sally SueAnn of my love for her.
* * *
[Genre: Metamorphosis ala Franz Kafka--sort of...
]
Later that night, Jack Moglin awoke from troubled dreams. He looked at the alarm clock on the stand next to his bed. It read: 2:30 AM. Good, he thought, my parents should be asleep--or far below in the depths of Hell, doing God knows what. But whatever the case, he was now free to sneak out tonight, at least for a few hours, without anyone being the wiser--especially since his father had this terrible tendancy for hiring incredibly inept henchmen.
Elation flooded Jack's being. Even if Sally SueAnn turned him down once again, he could at least spy upon her beautious visage through her bedroom window. He found himself smiling, though something seemed terribly wrong. An inexplicable stiffness permeated his body, causing him to feel slight panic.
Desperate to reassure himself, Jack reached for the switch to turn on the lamp on the nightstand next to his bed. To his horror, no matter how he tried, he could not get the switch to turn. It was as if he no longer had fingers, as if he were somehow handicapped in some inexplicable manner.
His breath quickened. This is all a dream, he thought, all a dream. Jack tried to set up, to escape the now choking confines of the bed. But he couldn't move. No matter how he tried, he could not untangle himself from the seemingly endless mass of blankets strewn upon his bed. What's going on? he wondered, fear beating in his heart. Jack flailed his arms and legs incessantly, trying to throw off the smothering blankets. And finally, after much desperate effort, the blankets fell to the floor in a tangled, wadded-up mass.
Jack let go a sigh of relief.
But when he tried to set up, his body would not respond. He could but lay there staring up into the darkness of his room, his very being immobilized. Why can't I get up if I can move my arms and legs? It made no sense. Jack tried again, putting all his effort into setting up. But nothing happened. He was trapped; helpless. Nothing he tried seemed to matter.
What's happening to me?! Panic inundated his person. What should I do...? What should I...? Giving up on the idea of setting up, Jack attempted to roll out of bed. However, after much effort, he was unable to accomplish even that comparatively simple task. And still his arms and legs flailed about helplessly. If only I could turn the light on, thought Jack, then I would be able to see what was wrong with me...
Jack stretched his arm out towards the lamp once more, grasping eagerly for the switch--and nothing. He could not get a grip on it no matter how he tried. He was really starting to get frustrated. Why does my life always have to go like this? He almost felt like crying. But the son of the mighty Moglin did not cry. Such was a weakness of lesser mortals. But I'm so scared...so scared.
His breath continued to come in uneven gasps. I have to get up! I HAVE to! Determined now, more than ever, Jack tried to roll over once again. He tried to get a hold of the edge of the mattress with his hand (that no longer seemed to exist) in order to get some leverage. And somehow he managed to do so.
He pulled with all his might, and slowly (ever so slowly) he began to turn. Elation filled his person as he awkwardly rolled onto his side...only to topple with a *thud* onto the floor.
Jack lay, unmoving, for several moments. I did it! he thought, feeling rather accomplished. Yet, that feeling of persistant wrongness continued to haunt him. What's wrong with me? Jack didn't know. He just wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare.
Finally, after long minutes, Jack attempted to get up. When he did so, something didn't feel quite right and he could hear an odd clicking as he made his way across the uncarpeted concrete of his bedroom floor. Even in the dark everything seemed taller than it should. Weird. What's going on? He shook his head as he made for the door. This has to be a dream--a cruel, bizarre dream. That can be the only explanation....
* * *
[Genre: Metamorphosis ala Franz Kafka--sort of...
]Later that night, Jack Moglin awoke from troubled dreams. He looked at the alarm clock on the stand next to his bed. It read: 2:30 AM. Good, he thought, my parents should be asleep--or far below in the depths of Hell, doing God knows what. But whatever the case, he was now free to sneak out tonight, at least for a few hours, without anyone being the wiser--especially since his father had this terrible tendancy for hiring incredibly inept henchmen.
Elation flooded Jack's being. Even if Sally SueAnn turned him down once again, he could at least spy upon her beautious visage through her bedroom window. He found himself smiling, though something seemed terribly wrong. An inexplicable stiffness permeated his body, causing him to feel slight panic.
Desperate to reassure himself, Jack reached for the switch to turn on the lamp on the nightstand next to his bed. To his horror, no matter how he tried, he could not get the switch to turn. It was as if he no longer had fingers, as if he were somehow handicapped in some inexplicable manner.
His breath quickened. This is all a dream, he thought, all a dream. Jack tried to set up, to escape the now choking confines of the bed. But he couldn't move. No matter how he tried, he could not untangle himself from the seemingly endless mass of blankets strewn upon his bed. What's going on? he wondered, fear beating in his heart. Jack flailed his arms and legs incessantly, trying to throw off the smothering blankets. And finally, after much desperate effort, the blankets fell to the floor in a tangled, wadded-up mass.
Jack let go a sigh of relief.
But when he tried to set up, his body would not respond. He could but lay there staring up into the darkness of his room, his very being immobilized. Why can't I get up if I can move my arms and legs? It made no sense. Jack tried again, putting all his effort into setting up. But nothing happened. He was trapped; helpless. Nothing he tried seemed to matter.
What's happening to me?! Panic inundated his person. What should I do...? What should I...? Giving up on the idea of setting up, Jack attempted to roll out of bed. However, after much effort, he was unable to accomplish even that comparatively simple task. And still his arms and legs flailed about helplessly. If only I could turn the light on, thought Jack, then I would be able to see what was wrong with me...
Jack stretched his arm out towards the lamp once more, grasping eagerly for the switch--and nothing. He could not get a grip on it no matter how he tried. He was really starting to get frustrated. Why does my life always have to go like this? He almost felt like crying. But the son of the mighty Moglin did not cry. Such was a weakness of lesser mortals. But I'm so scared...so scared.
His breath continued to come in uneven gasps. I have to get up! I HAVE to! Determined now, more than ever, Jack tried to roll over once again. He tried to get a hold of the edge of the mattress with his hand (that no longer seemed to exist) in order to get some leverage. And somehow he managed to do so.
He pulled with all his might, and slowly (ever so slowly) he began to turn. Elation filled his person as he awkwardly rolled onto his side...only to topple with a *thud* onto the floor.
Jack lay, unmoving, for several moments. I did it! he thought, feeling rather accomplished. Yet, that feeling of persistant wrongness continued to haunt him. What's wrong with me? Jack didn't know. He just wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare.
Finally, after long minutes, Jack attempted to get up. When he did so, something didn't feel quite right and he could hear an odd clicking as he made his way across the uncarpeted concrete of his bedroom floor. Even in the dark everything seemed taller than it should. Weird. What's going on? He shook his head as he made for the door. This has to be a dream--a cruel, bizarre dream. That can be the only explanation....
Last edited by Aunflin on Sat Feb 19, 2005 6:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
Jack's mandibles clacked together in frustration. Three days of this! Was his mother insane...well, he already knew that. But this time she had gone too far. This had to be the worst punishment he had ever endured--and it had only begun.
In resignation (and not a little anger), Jack scurried back to his bed, trying to ignore the extreme urge to roll dung into large balls...
* * *
Meanwhile, Father Bill quietly paced back and forth in the veritable closet that served as his living quarters in the back of the church. Worry was writ on his face--and not a little fear. What was he going to do? He shook his head, pulling a cigarette from the pack on the miniscule nightstand next to the bed. Almost without thinking, he lit-up, relishing in the hot smoke that seemed to so easily calm his nerves.
"What should I do?" he said aloud. Never had he been so terrified, so uncertain--even after more than twenty-five years in service of the Knight's Templar.
He sat down on the end of the bed, continuing to puff on the cigarette, a wreath of noxious fume wafting about his head. He just couldn't get it out of his mind. His hands started to shake. I really need a drink, he thought. Father Bill shook his head: no, I can’t...not anymore...
The priest let go a long breath, a stream of gray smoke jetting out into the air to swirl lazily about. The horrible imageries of the vision just wouldn't leave his mind. It was a revelation, and he knew it--it could be nothing else. God was speaking to him, urging him to prevent a great horror from being unleashed upon the world.
Father Bill closed his eyes, putting his hands over his face, attempting to drive the dread imageries from his thoughts. Yet, no matter how he tried, the images remain, taunting him with their potency.
He groaned as if in agony, his hands continuing to shake. Absently, he put out the cigarette, only to light another almost immediately. Maybe if I write it down, he thought, it will all go away. A smile crossed his face, his dark eyes lighting up. Yes, that is surely the remedy for this!
With desperate eagerness, Father Bill hurried to his small writing table, flicking on the lamp. He pulled his old battered journal from the top drawer and grabbed his favorite pen (the gold one Father Matthias had given him years ago), and began to write:
[Genre: excerpt from the journal of Father Bill—a Revelation of sorts
]:
[quote]February 20, 2005:
I just awoke from a terrible dream, a vision it seems—one I find hard to comprehend. No matter how I try, I cannot force the horrible images from my mind…
However, I have decided to write down what I saw in hopes of clearing my mind and perhaps focus my thoughts on the whole affair.
I was deep in slumber and a dream came upon me. A normal dream it seemed at first (and I recall little of those first moments), but then it changed. It was as if a bright, powerful presence filled me—a Godly presence beyond the comprehension of man. Perhaps it was God, or one of his Angels…whatever the case, I feel that I was touched by divinity this night—and I wish it were not the case.
The scene shifted, seeming to become more real. A voice that was more of an overbearing, mind-numbing thought filled my being, overwhelming me with both ecstasy and fear. I could but tremble before its mightiness. “Behold!â€
In resignation (and not a little anger), Jack scurried back to his bed, trying to ignore the extreme urge to roll dung into large balls...
* * *
Meanwhile, Father Bill quietly paced back and forth in the veritable closet that served as his living quarters in the back of the church. Worry was writ on his face--and not a little fear. What was he going to do? He shook his head, pulling a cigarette from the pack on the miniscule nightstand next to the bed. Almost without thinking, he lit-up, relishing in the hot smoke that seemed to so easily calm his nerves.
"What should I do?" he said aloud. Never had he been so terrified, so uncertain--even after more than twenty-five years in service of the Knight's Templar.
He sat down on the end of the bed, continuing to puff on the cigarette, a wreath of noxious fume wafting about his head. He just couldn't get it out of his mind. His hands started to shake. I really need a drink, he thought. Father Bill shook his head: no, I can’t...not anymore...
The priest let go a long breath, a stream of gray smoke jetting out into the air to swirl lazily about. The horrible imageries of the vision just wouldn't leave his mind. It was a revelation, and he knew it--it could be nothing else. God was speaking to him, urging him to prevent a great horror from being unleashed upon the world.
Father Bill closed his eyes, putting his hands over his face, attempting to drive the dread imageries from his thoughts. Yet, no matter how he tried, the images remain, taunting him with their potency.
He groaned as if in agony, his hands continuing to shake. Absently, he put out the cigarette, only to light another almost immediately. Maybe if I write it down, he thought, it will all go away. A smile crossed his face, his dark eyes lighting up. Yes, that is surely the remedy for this!
With desperate eagerness, Father Bill hurried to his small writing table, flicking on the lamp. He pulled his old battered journal from the top drawer and grabbed his favorite pen (the gold one Father Matthias had given him years ago), and began to write:
[Genre: excerpt from the journal of Father Bill—a Revelation of sorts
]: [quote]February 20, 2005:
I just awoke from a terrible dream, a vision it seems—one I find hard to comprehend. No matter how I try, I cannot force the horrible images from my mind…
However, I have decided to write down what I saw in hopes of clearing my mind and perhaps focus my thoughts on the whole affair.
I was deep in slumber and a dream came upon me. A normal dream it seemed at first (and I recall little of those first moments), but then it changed. It was as if a bright, powerful presence filled me—a Godly presence beyond the comprehension of man. Perhaps it was God, or one of his Angels…whatever the case, I feel that I was touched by divinity this night—and I wish it were not the case.
The scene shifted, seeming to become more real. A voice that was more of an overbearing, mind-numbing thought filled my being, overwhelming me with both ecstasy and fear. I could but tremble before its mightiness. “Behold!â€
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
. . . Yes, what was on Jack’s mind?
Dung Beetles can’t cry they have no tear ducts, so Jack spend the rest of the day shaking, moaning, running around in circles, bumping into the furniture or curled up in a fetal position. These things a dung beetle could do. As much as he detested it, he got hungry, and he tried to put off the inevitable. But the dung had a remarkable arousing aroma, and when he could take it no longer – he wobbled over to the not-so-fresh dung heap and he ate his fill, mmmm dung and mushrooms. He even rolled a ball or two, though he could not think of why.
After his cold meal and ball forming exercise, he climbed into bed; his thoughts drifting to his miserable life. What was he going to do to ensure his mother believed he had changed, what can he do . . . but the whole time his thoughts kept coming back to his love, his Sally Sue Ann, he couldn’t keep his mind off of her . . . surely love could conquer all, if he could just talk to her again . . . explain what was happening . . . that he wasn’t like his parents . . . that he was a nice kid, who wanted to settle down, get married and have a normal life . . . oh god, life was not fair . . . Jack drifted off to sleep . . .
[Genre: Erotic Fantasy – Wet Dream]
The door cracked open, Sally Sue Ann slipped silently across the floor, gracefully stepping around the uneaten meal, wearing a see-thru, form fitting red teddy, black gothic shaped M’s covered each breast. She skipped gingerly over on the freshly formed balls of dung, her hair streaming out behind her like a cast-away virgin veil.
“Your mother, nor her witchcraft will come between us, my love,” Sally Sue Ann whispered as the teddy came up and over her head, revealing a more curvaceous body than Jack could have imagined for a young teenager.
. . .
[R-Rate Material Moved to Off-line Fora]
. . .
Her mellifluous voice sang, “Higher, Jack . . . HIGHER . . .” Jack complied, flying several feet higher and then hovering – then higher again as she begged for more height. Jack was never sure if she passed out from the body-numbing flight’s climax or if she hit her head on the ceiling, – but either way she collapsed a couple of minutes later. Her dead weight slammed against his wings thrusting the two of them to the floor, where they lay, steam rising from their slowly cooling sweaty bodies.
Until, suddenly – the door to his room flew open and a shower of dung hit the floor and splattered their naked bodies. The wooden dung bucket crashed to the floor waking the young lovers up. Jack’s mother towered over them, “Boy, what . . .” She grabbed Sally Sue Ann by the hair with one hand and an ankle with the other and with strength that Jack didn’t think the woman had, flung his inamorata unceremoniously to the ground. Jack tried to scream for her to stop, the horror of it all was crushing his tender heart, but as we all know - Dung Beetles scream for . . . well . . . they scream for dung.
Jack blinked once, twice . . . three . . . four times. His mother wasn’t standing over him, it was Igor. He was wrapping the Molgin “M” monogram red and black bedspread around his arms like a taffy machine.
“Boy, what were ya doing? You’re all tied up in your sheets . . . here let me unravel this mess, it’s all tangled around your horns,” Igor offered, as his left foot slipped on some white gooey egg-like substance. Wiping his foot in the dung splatter sheets. “Boy, ya get sick last night, ya’ meal didn’t agree with ya?”
Igor staggered to the door with the dung and cream crusted bed-covers in hand, “Me will clean these up and get them back to ya in a couple of days . . . don’t think ya need them until then.” He kicked the door shut with . . .
Dung Beetles can’t cry they have no tear ducts, so Jack spend the rest of the day shaking, moaning, running around in circles, bumping into the furniture or curled up in a fetal position. These things a dung beetle could do. As much as he detested it, he got hungry, and he tried to put off the inevitable. But the dung had a remarkable arousing aroma, and when he could take it no longer – he wobbled over to the not-so-fresh dung heap and he ate his fill, mmmm dung and mushrooms. He even rolled a ball or two, though he could not think of why.
After his cold meal and ball forming exercise, he climbed into bed; his thoughts drifting to his miserable life. What was he going to do to ensure his mother believed he had changed, what can he do . . . but the whole time his thoughts kept coming back to his love, his Sally Sue Ann, he couldn’t keep his mind off of her . . . surely love could conquer all, if he could just talk to her again . . . explain what was happening . . . that he wasn’t like his parents . . . that he was a nice kid, who wanted to settle down, get married and have a normal life . . . oh god, life was not fair . . . Jack drifted off to sleep . . .
[Genre: Erotic Fantasy – Wet Dream]
The door cracked open, Sally Sue Ann slipped silently across the floor, gracefully stepping around the uneaten meal, wearing a see-thru, form fitting red teddy, black gothic shaped M’s covered each breast. She skipped gingerly over on the freshly formed balls of dung, her hair streaming out behind her like a cast-away virgin veil.
“Your mother, nor her witchcraft will come between us, my love,” Sally Sue Ann whispered as the teddy came up and over her head, revealing a more curvaceous body than Jack could have imagined for a young teenager.
. . .
[R-Rate Material Moved to Off-line Fora]
. . .
Her mellifluous voice sang, “Higher, Jack . . . HIGHER . . .” Jack complied, flying several feet higher and then hovering – then higher again as she begged for more height. Jack was never sure if she passed out from the body-numbing flight’s climax or if she hit her head on the ceiling, – but either way she collapsed a couple of minutes later. Her dead weight slammed against his wings thrusting the two of them to the floor, where they lay, steam rising from their slowly cooling sweaty bodies.
Until, suddenly – the door to his room flew open and a shower of dung hit the floor and splattered their naked bodies. The wooden dung bucket crashed to the floor waking the young lovers up. Jack’s mother towered over them, “Boy, what . . .” She grabbed Sally Sue Ann by the hair with one hand and an ankle with the other and with strength that Jack didn’t think the woman had, flung his inamorata unceremoniously to the ground. Jack tried to scream for her to stop, the horror of it all was crushing his tender heart, but as we all know - Dung Beetles scream for . . . well . . . they scream for dung.
Jack blinked once, twice . . . three . . . four times. His mother wasn’t standing over him, it was Igor. He was wrapping the Molgin “M” monogram red and black bedspread around his arms like a taffy machine.
“Boy, what were ya doing? You’re all tied up in your sheets . . . here let me unravel this mess, it’s all tangled around your horns,” Igor offered, as his left foot slipped on some white gooey egg-like substance. Wiping his foot in the dung splatter sheets. “Boy, ya get sick last night, ya’ meal didn’t agree with ya?”
Igor staggered to the door with the dung and cream crusted bed-covers in hand, “Me will clean these up and get them back to ya in a couple of days . . . don’t think ya need them until then.” He kicked the door shut with . . .
If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude than the animating contest of freedom, go from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains sit lightly upon you,
S Adams
S Adams
-
Kvetch
- Sweeper
- Posts: 11844
- Joined: Tue Apr 20, 2004 2:12 pm
- Location: North of the Sun and East of Chaos
- Contact:
... a misshapen leg. Jack heard the latch click down. After a few vain minutes, trying to open the door anyway, Jack settled down to muse on the meaning of life, and nibble upon the choicer pieces of alligator scat.
Between free associating on the charms of Sally Sue Ann, the tactile pleasures of truly gooey dung, with it’s semi-digested minion overtones, and how he would REALLY like to kill his parents, Jack remembered something he had wanted to do for a long time. Since there was nothing better to do, he settled down and mentally wrote it out
Genre: Evil Overlord’s Son List / Parody / Parody of a parody
Being an Evil Overlord seems to be a good career choice. It pays well, there are all sorts of perks and you can set your own hours. However every Evil Overlord seems to decide to have children. Unfortunately, being the son of an Evil Overlord is unpaid, dangerous, embarrassing and often fatal. With this in mind, all me to present:
Jack Moglin's Top 10 Evil Overlord's Son List
10) Do not plot against your parents. They WILL find out, which could be unpleasant.
9) Do not allow your family to use you as a lab animal. Corollary: If you can't avoid being used as a guinea pig by the Evil Overlord, any powers you gain from the experiment will make it needful for the Hero to kill you at some point during the Heroic Struggle. Change sides and take your just revenge.
8) When mutilating cattle, avoid the ones with testicles.
7) Avoid killing people not actively involved in the rebellion; the Evil Overlord has enough enemies as it is. Especially don't kill relatives, significant others, or best friends of the Hero. Normally after the Evil Overlord is overthrown, minions can get off with a few hundred hours of community service, but if you off the Hero's loved ones, he'll make lasagne out of you.
6) As soon as the Evil Overlord has the Hero in his power, seek the nearest available escape route. The manure cart is about to hit the windmill. Corollary: If the heroes give you a chance to surrender or flee, take it.
5) If it glows, avoid it.
4) Do not offer to test your parent’s new device for achieving immortality. It will not work, or if it does it will have some horrible side effect (see also 9)
3) Strive to not get a One True Love while Heroes and Evil Overlords are still active: Your life may be the poorer, but you will not have to cope with the trauma of either your parents killing off your One True Love, or your One True Love proving rather less true than you had thought, and going off with the Hero.
2) Try and avoid getting drafted into the Legions of Terror: there will be more danger, but unlike the others you won't get paid. You will also end up the one carrying the can
1) Feign incompetence: you may be a crack shot, a grand master in six martial arts, psychic and capable of building a hyperspace drive from some string and a bottle-top, but DON'T let your parents or the Hero know: They will regard you as a threat, which will have negative effects on your life expectancy, and you will get sent on difficult missions with a high probability of maiming or death.
Technical Terms:
Evil Overlord (EO)
If this applies to you, at least one of your parents will be an EO. The almost invariably wear black, cackle, and make incompetent plans to take over the universe. If your parent is in with any ACTUAL chance of ruling the world they are not an EO, they are a banker. The difference is often blurred
One True Love
Everyone except minions is allowed a One True Love. They will usually do one of the following:
1) Die
2) Betray you
3) Fall for someone else
4) Die
5) Turn out to be related to you (in more inbred societies this may not be a problem)
6) Die
Hero
A very dangerous species. They come in three basic varieties
1) The thick macho type
These are the least dangerous, but considering the competence level of the basic EO, are still almost unbeatable.
2) The small sneaky type
These can be a true danger to EOs, and by extension, their relatives and minions.
3) The confused innocent
Run away now. They will ALWAYS start to manifest strange powers, and exceptionally inconvenient moments. If your parent attempts to sacrifice one to achieve all o’ercoming power, leave immediately.
Minion
Usually non-human (orc, lizard man, little green men from mars, insurance salesmen) they are very numerous, moderately dangerous in battle and stupid. Eos probably get them by mail order.
Sidekick
An associate of the hero. Can be relied upon to do something stupid to attract the attention of the hero. If they wander off on their own, DO NOT take them prisoner, thinking to impress your parent. Just let them wander further away. The hero will have to find them, and you can spend this time running away.
Legions of Terror
Large amounts of Minions
And remember:
The Evil Overlord will not risk his life to save yours. Why risk yours for his?
Jack grinned. Or at least, clicked his mandibles in a humourous way. Rule one was an important one. Although he felt that a reference to small smiling old men ought to be worked into it some how.
Oh well
As soon as he got his normal form back, he would post it on the net, but until then…
Between free associating on the charms of Sally Sue Ann, the tactile pleasures of truly gooey dung, with it’s semi-digested minion overtones, and how he would REALLY like to kill his parents, Jack remembered something he had wanted to do for a long time. Since there was nothing better to do, he settled down and mentally wrote it out
Genre: Evil Overlord’s Son List / Parody / Parody of a parody
Being an Evil Overlord seems to be a good career choice. It pays well, there are all sorts of perks and you can set your own hours. However every Evil Overlord seems to decide to have children. Unfortunately, being the son of an Evil Overlord is unpaid, dangerous, embarrassing and often fatal. With this in mind, all me to present:
Jack Moglin's Top 10 Evil Overlord's Son List
10) Do not plot against your parents. They WILL find out, which could be unpleasant.
9) Do not allow your family to use you as a lab animal. Corollary: If you can't avoid being used as a guinea pig by the Evil Overlord, any powers you gain from the experiment will make it needful for the Hero to kill you at some point during the Heroic Struggle. Change sides and take your just revenge.
8) When mutilating cattle, avoid the ones with testicles.
7) Avoid killing people not actively involved in the rebellion; the Evil Overlord has enough enemies as it is. Especially don't kill relatives, significant others, or best friends of the Hero. Normally after the Evil Overlord is overthrown, minions can get off with a few hundred hours of community service, but if you off the Hero's loved ones, he'll make lasagne out of you.
6) As soon as the Evil Overlord has the Hero in his power, seek the nearest available escape route. The manure cart is about to hit the windmill. Corollary: If the heroes give you a chance to surrender or flee, take it.
5) If it glows, avoid it.
4) Do not offer to test your parent’s new device for achieving immortality. It will not work, or if it does it will have some horrible side effect (see also 9)
3) Strive to not get a One True Love while Heroes and Evil Overlords are still active: Your life may be the poorer, but you will not have to cope with the trauma of either your parents killing off your One True Love, or your One True Love proving rather less true than you had thought, and going off with the Hero.
2) Try and avoid getting drafted into the Legions of Terror: there will be more danger, but unlike the others you won't get paid. You will also end up the one carrying the can
1) Feign incompetence: you may be a crack shot, a grand master in six martial arts, psychic and capable of building a hyperspace drive from some string and a bottle-top, but DON'T let your parents or the Hero know: They will regard you as a threat, which will have negative effects on your life expectancy, and you will get sent on difficult missions with a high probability of maiming or death.
Technical Terms:
Evil Overlord (EO)
If this applies to you, at least one of your parents will be an EO. The almost invariably wear black, cackle, and make incompetent plans to take over the universe. If your parent is in with any ACTUAL chance of ruling the world they are not an EO, they are a banker. The difference is often blurred
One True Love
Everyone except minions is allowed a One True Love. They will usually do one of the following:
1) Die
2) Betray you
3) Fall for someone else
4) Die
5) Turn out to be related to you (in more inbred societies this may not be a problem)
6) Die
Hero
A very dangerous species. They come in three basic varieties
1) The thick macho type
These are the least dangerous, but considering the competence level of the basic EO, are still almost unbeatable.
2) The small sneaky type
These can be a true danger to EOs, and by extension, their relatives and minions.
3) The confused innocent
Run away now. They will ALWAYS start to manifest strange powers, and exceptionally inconvenient moments. If your parent attempts to sacrifice one to achieve all o’ercoming power, leave immediately.
Minion
Usually non-human (orc, lizard man, little green men from mars, insurance salesmen) they are very numerous, moderately dangerous in battle and stupid. Eos probably get them by mail order.
Sidekick
An associate of the hero. Can be relied upon to do something stupid to attract the attention of the hero. If they wander off on their own, DO NOT take them prisoner, thinking to impress your parent. Just let them wander further away. The hero will have to find them, and you can spend this time running away.
Legions of Terror
Large amounts of Minions
And remember:
The Evil Overlord will not risk his life to save yours. Why risk yours for his?
Jack grinned. Or at least, clicked his mandibles in a humourous way. Rule one was an important one. Although he felt that a reference to small smiling old men ought to be worked into it some how.
Oh well
As soon as he got his normal form back, he would post it on the net, but until then…
"I'm the family radical. The rest are terribly stuffy. Aside from Aunt - she's just odd."
. . . he had to endure that terrible racket coming from the next room. What was dolorous din? . . . Oh no, don’t tell me Echus and his band are practicing again! . . . .
Sam Spam cringed at still another clashing misfingered eminor 7th chord. For the tenth time in the last ten minutes he kicked himself mentally for admitting he had some training as a musician back in the interview with Dr. and Mr. Moglin “Oh, yes, I bang the biggest ceremonial drums in all the north countryâ€
Sam Spam cringed at still another clashing misfingered eminor 7th chord. For the tenth time in the last ten minutes he kicked himself mentally for admitting he had some training as a musician back in the interview with Dr. and Mr. Moglin “Oh, yes, I bang the biggest ceremonial drums in all the north countryâ€
Echus seemed to be a bit nervous as he headed out the door. Indeed his thoughts were troubled. . .
Genre - in the style of E.A. Poe
I struggled with reflections of the whole of the dull, dark, dirge-like session I had just witnessed. Among other things, I bore painfully in mind a certain singular perversion and amplification of the bouncy air of the last waltz of Welk. The hundred abhorrent mistuned chords I had endured as best I could, but when he ventured upon a shameless soft-malleted paradiddle parody ‘twas an insult that could never be countenanced. I vowed a revenge that would utterly destroy this miscreant drummer, whose abased disfigurement of tradition was degenerate beyond all human bounds.
Now, I know it might be said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment with this fusion of my cherished heavy metal and the delicate intricacies of the polka has been to deepen the first singular impression of unclean union. Yet we had made considerable progress, and the Presley High Prom seemed a fortuitous opportunity to unleash this new sound upon an unwitting world. This made my fears that all hopes of triumph might still be dashed by the uncertain beat of this rude aborigine of the North all the more compelling, leaving me with no choice but to take action.
He appeared to be destitute alike of the ambition which urged, and of the passionate energy of mind which enabled true musicians to transcend the bounds of earthly dolor. His mistimed cadences might have been supposed actuated solely by a whimsical desire to thwart, astonish, or mortify myself; although there were times when I could not help observing, with a feeling made up of wonder, abasement, and pique, that he mingled with his injuries, his insults, or his contradictions, a certain most inappropriate, and assuredly most unwelcome affectionateness of manner.
When the Moglin had first introduced this strange Northman to our band, we had entertained the promise of a solidity of rhythm that could only bring our tunemaking to breathtaking new heights. Alas, the master had been deceived. I had now inescapably concluded that this imp of clashing sonorities must be an agent of some conflicting evil power out to trump our darkest plans. I had resolved to remain calm, and keep the charade of a co-conspirator until the moment for action was upon me. I would lure him to the basement, with a story of new tympani, fine drums that only an expert such as himself can possibly evaluate. His vanity will lead him unquestioningly unto the fate I envisioned, a complete righting of wrongs that would leave his final desperate thoughts perforce an admiration of the skillful manipulations of his terrible avenger.
As I continued apace towards my midday briefing with the Doctor, a rustling in the furrows of the drapes caught my attention. A brief investigation revealed that the cause ‘twas only Rupert, my beloved rat. “Ru,â€
Genre - in the style of E.A. Poe
I struggled with reflections of the whole of the dull, dark, dirge-like session I had just witnessed. Among other things, I bore painfully in mind a certain singular perversion and amplification of the bouncy air of the last waltz of Welk. The hundred abhorrent mistuned chords I had endured as best I could, but when he ventured upon a shameless soft-malleted paradiddle parody ‘twas an insult that could never be countenanced. I vowed a revenge that would utterly destroy this miscreant drummer, whose abased disfigurement of tradition was degenerate beyond all human bounds.
Now, I know it might be said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment with this fusion of my cherished heavy metal and the delicate intricacies of the polka has been to deepen the first singular impression of unclean union. Yet we had made considerable progress, and the Presley High Prom seemed a fortuitous opportunity to unleash this new sound upon an unwitting world. This made my fears that all hopes of triumph might still be dashed by the uncertain beat of this rude aborigine of the North all the more compelling, leaving me with no choice but to take action.
He appeared to be destitute alike of the ambition which urged, and of the passionate energy of mind which enabled true musicians to transcend the bounds of earthly dolor. His mistimed cadences might have been supposed actuated solely by a whimsical desire to thwart, astonish, or mortify myself; although there were times when I could not help observing, with a feeling made up of wonder, abasement, and pique, that he mingled with his injuries, his insults, or his contradictions, a certain most inappropriate, and assuredly most unwelcome affectionateness of manner.
When the Moglin had first introduced this strange Northman to our band, we had entertained the promise of a solidity of rhythm that could only bring our tunemaking to breathtaking new heights. Alas, the master had been deceived. I had now inescapably concluded that this imp of clashing sonorities must be an agent of some conflicting evil power out to trump our darkest plans. I had resolved to remain calm, and keep the charade of a co-conspirator until the moment for action was upon me. I would lure him to the basement, with a story of new tympani, fine drums that only an expert such as himself can possibly evaluate. His vanity will lead him unquestioningly unto the fate I envisioned, a complete righting of wrongs that would leave his final desperate thoughts perforce an admiration of the skillful manipulations of his terrible avenger.
As I continued apace towards my midday briefing with the Doctor, a rustling in the furrows of the drapes caught my attention. A brief investigation revealed that the cause ‘twas only Rupert, my beloved rat. “Ru,â€
fruition . . .
When he arrived at the door, there was a note waiting for him
Echus:
When he arrived at the door, there was a note waiting for him
Echus:
Unholy #$&%)! Thought Echus. Not another one of her wordgames! . . .I am out disposing of another batch of incompetents. Your assignment is below. You know the price of failure!!!
Genre - Acrostic
Your assignment:
__ __ __ __
1 2 3 4
__ __ __
5 6 7
__ __ __
8 9 10
__ __ __ __
11 12 13 14
__ __
15 16
__ __ __ __ __ -
17 18 19 20 21
__ __ __ __ __ __ __
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
__ __
29 30
__ __ __
31 32 33
__ __ __ __ __
34 35 36 37 38
__ __
39 40
__ __ __
41 42 43
__ __ __ __
44 45 46 47
__ __ __ __
48 49 50 51
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __.
52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59
__ __ __ __
60 61 62 63
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71
__ __ __ __
72 73 74 75
__ __ __
76 77 78
__
79
__ __ __ __ __ __
80 81 82 83 84 85
__ __ __.
86 87 88
Clues:
A. _____ central station
__ __ __ __ __
71 50 79 82 67
B. Eve would have liked to have had some choices _____________
__ __ __ __ __ / __ __ __ __ / __ __ __ __
87 31 18 7 27 / 4 80 13 70 / 29 74 51 14
C. Cartoon inspector
__ __ __ __ __ __
59 49 66 88 26 11
D. Belonging to some prior time
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
38 63 52 21 10 32 69 44 2
E. Thomas J Watson, Jr. made this slogan famous at IBM
__ __ __ __ __
25 42 73 8 72
F. Leading a lamb to the __________
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
75 68 45 81 17 55 41 3 84
G. Marxist guerilla Guevara
__ __ __
35 6 65
H. Excursions
__ __ __ __ __ __ __
15 23 30 53 77 83 46
I. Whenever ChoChiyo needs a chocolate fix, she makes a batch ________
__ __ / __ __ __ __ __
19 60 / 40 62 78 54 9
J. It was the _____ of times . . .
__ __ __ __
22 43 20 56
K. Sycophants
__ __ __ / __ __ __
85 36 24 / 1 33 58
L. For R & H, there is nothing like them
__ __ __ __ __
86 76 48 12 34
M. Mike Piazza and Ivan Rodriguez couldn’t play due to a shortage _______
__ __ / __ __ __ __ __
39 16 / 64 57 47 5 28
N. Not off
__ __
61 37
Last edited by clong on Tue Apr 26, 2005 9:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
Kvetch
- Sweeper
- Posts: 11844
- Joined: Tue Apr 20, 2004 2:12 pm
- Location: North of the Sun and East of Chaos
- Contact:
Genre: 1337 Sp33k / 12 yr old AOLer
After a few fruitless minutes trying to solve the clues,
...Cookies? or Goulash? or something else? I don't know which has chocolate in it. Anyway, I disdain food. And as for this 'R & H', there is no R clue, so I can't do that one either. I'm not really a matutinal person by any stretch of the imagination. After a few coffees I might have a hope, but this could be urgent...
Echus decided he would have to resort to asking for help.
...And hope that she doesn't find out I've been cheating...
And as to who who he would ask, that was easy enough. Logging onto his IM, his hunch was confirmed:
1337 d00d yo d00d, how u doin?!!!!!
Echo_Corpuscule fine, although my metal-polka fusion is not going as well as I had hoped.
1337 d00d schweet d00d!!!!!!111 1'v3 b33n h4ck1ng 1nt0 th3 m$cr0s0ft w3bs1t3. 1 c0uld h4v3 1t f0r lunch. 1 4m 4 l33t h@x0r. ph33r my 1337 skillz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11
... While leet dude might have the tact and mental age of a twelve year old, and has the hacking skills of a ninety year old grandmother, I have to give it to him that he is good at puzzle solving, so ...
Echo_Corpuscule That makes me think of something - I've got a word puzzle that I can't solve, and I really need to find out what it says - want to have a go at it?
1337 d00d nah itll b 2 eZ
... Not to mention arrogant and irritating, but there are ways round that ...
Echo_Corpuscule I bet you are scared that you won't be able to do it either.
1337 d00d I'm n0t s00p1d 3n0ff to ph411 4 t|-|@7. j00 R 4 L00s3r!!!!!!!!!!!!11
Echo_Corpuscule I'll bet you the cheat codes to Templar XII: The Pits of Hell that you can't solve it.
1337 d00d d0n3! 3|\/|@il i7 2 m3
After sending of a copy of the acrostic, Echus sat back to wait it out...
After a short wait, his IM bleeped
1337 d00d 7|-|3 p|_|22l3 s4z: |\/|33+ +|-|3 |\|3\|/ +34|\/| 0|# 6|-|05+-8|_|5+3|25 4+ +|-|3 5(3|\|3 0|# +|-|3 145+ |\/|4|24 5!6|-|+!|\|6. |#0|_||2 |\/|3|)|)1!|\|6 |( !|)5 4|\||) 4 |-||_||\|6|2`/ |)06. I @|\/| a l337 hax0r.
Echo_Corpuscule pardon me, but would you be so kind as to repeat that in plaintext. I have enough problems understanding you when I know what you are saying.
1337 d00d l002r!!!!!!!!!!!!1
Echo_Corpuscule TemplarXII.
1337 d00d Meet the new team of ghost-busters at the scene of the last Mara sighting. Four meddling kids and a hungry dog. And the acrostic in the clues spells out "go get Scooby Doo". Give me the cheats now
Echo_Corpuscule TempleOfSolomon, Crusade, GrandMaster, BernardOfClairvaux. Thanks 1337.
<Echo_Corpuscule has logged out>
Well, now he at least he knew his task ...
]
After a few fruitless minutes trying to solve the clues,
...Cookies? or Goulash? or something else? I don't know which has chocolate in it. Anyway, I disdain food. And as for this 'R & H', there is no R clue, so I can't do that one either. I'm not really a matutinal person by any stretch of the imagination. After a few coffees I might have a hope, but this could be urgent...
Echus decided he would have to resort to asking for help.
...And hope that she doesn't find out I've been cheating...
And as to who who he would ask, that was easy enough. Logging onto his IM, his hunch was confirmed:
1337 d00d yo d00d, how u doin?!!!!!
Echo_Corpuscule fine, although my metal-polka fusion is not going as well as I had hoped.
1337 d00d schweet d00d!!!!!!111 1'v3 b33n h4ck1ng 1nt0 th3 m$cr0s0ft w3bs1t3. 1 c0uld h4v3 1t f0r lunch. 1 4m 4 l33t h@x0r. ph33r my 1337 skillz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11
... While leet dude might have the tact and mental age of a twelve year old, and has the hacking skills of a ninety year old grandmother, I have to give it to him that he is good at puzzle solving, so ...
Echo_Corpuscule That makes me think of something - I've got a word puzzle that I can't solve, and I really need to find out what it says - want to have a go at it?
1337 d00d nah itll b 2 eZ
... Not to mention arrogant and irritating, but there are ways round that ...
Echo_Corpuscule I bet you are scared that you won't be able to do it either.
1337 d00d I'm n0t s00p1d 3n0ff to ph411 4 t|-|@7. j00 R 4 L00s3r!!!!!!!!!!!!11
Echo_Corpuscule I'll bet you the cheat codes to Templar XII: The Pits of Hell that you can't solve it.
1337 d00d d0n3! 3|\/|@il i7 2 m3
After sending of a copy of the acrostic, Echus sat back to wait it out...
After a short wait, his IM bleeped
1337 d00d 7|-|3 p|_|22l3 s4z: |\/|33+ +|-|3 |\|3\|/ +34|\/| 0|# 6|-|05+-8|_|5+3|25 4+ +|-|3 5(3|\|3 0|# +|-|3 145+ |\/|4|24 5!6|-|+!|\|6. |#0|_||2 |\/|3|)|)1!|\|6 |( !|)5 4|\||) 4 |-||_||\|6|2`/ |)06. I @|\/| a l337 hax0r.
Echo_Corpuscule pardon me, but would you be so kind as to repeat that in plaintext. I have enough problems understanding you when I know what you are saying.
1337 d00d l002r!!!!!!!!!!!!1
Echo_Corpuscule TemplarXII.
1337 d00d Meet the new team of ghost-busters at the scene of the last Mara sighting. Four meddling kids and a hungry dog. And the acrostic in the clues spells out "go get Scooby Doo". Give me the cheats now
Echo_Corpuscule TempleOfSolomon, Crusade, GrandMaster, BernardOfClairvaux. Thanks 1337.
<Echo_Corpuscule has logged out>
Well, now he at least he knew his task ...
]
"I'm the family radical. The rest are terribly stuffy. Aside from Aunt - she's just odd."