Strings of Nines

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        Felicity’s sister Serenity tssked.
        And me, you missed me, didn’t you? I was in Felicity’s shadow but here all along too.


          I saw you hogging Felicity’s shadow, Serenity, said Irritation crossly.


          As if they had conspired to make it funnier, Yurick found on his answering machine twice the same question later in the day: “Are you still there?” had asked both Malika and Dory.

          That was without counting Finn’s “when you’re back, welcome back.”

          Maybe he was just blinking without noticing it.


            Blinking? Did you say blinking? Felicity said in between sneezes. :yahoo_doh:


              Serenity gave her a handkerchief and sighed.

              F LoveF Love

                Arona sighed and flipped randomly through the pages of her book. Try as she might she could not make any sense of it.

                “You have a go, Yikesy,” she said. “See if you can figure out what it is about.”


                  Arona, it hasn’t made any sense for ages.” replied Yikesy sagely. “If you ask me, it’s time to start a new thread.”


                    “You’re right… maybe” Arona sighed again, then spread her cape and took off above the hills in long soft flaps of her big molted cape wings.


                      That’s the moment Minky was waiting for to come out of the shadows and shanghai the boy away.



                        Shanghai? How odd and strange… like two pieds and a bunion” Silica Thesaura the great ogress said mindfully to her lovely little kiddogres to whom she was reading for the nth time their favorite boogerbook: “Francicolourful Tales of Arona the Flapping Bingostrich.”

                        “I would have said something else… maybe ‘skyjack’ or ‘spirit away.’ “That would definitely have been more appropriate and less Greek for small kiddogers.”

                        She was probably right about that.


                          And good luck with making any sense off THAT! the evil Messmeerah hissed in a fitful and raucous laugh which made her blink and wink like mad.

                          Turning to her shrine, she started to prepare the right tools for the job… a fine bloody ritual.
                          Boy, did she loved carpaccio.


                          “When I saw Finn waiting for me at the corner of the street I knew at once that something had gone” Yrucik (Yurick oddly spelt) newly opened book knew how to set the tone. Of course, Finn (the real Finn) was nowhere to be found, as it should, discrete as she was —even if Finn in the book was a man, Under the (Fish) Net, that is.


                            “I think, and I am sure that Finn(ley) will agree, that what is needed for this fish(y) net is a new thread, or two or three” remarked Annabel to Finn(ley) in particular.

                            F LoveF Love

                              “Oh, yes,” Finn agreed politely. “You start the new threads Annabel. I am busy waiting on the corner at the moment.”


                                “Fish” said Raxie when asked what she would like for her Fragmentation Day lunch. Fish synchronicities had been sprouting up all over the plaice, sturgeoning you might say, if you were wanting to include the word burgeoning, burgeoning like the gnarly old grape vines waking up and unleashing green on the chalky hills.

                                “The synchronicities and connections were like individual blades of grass turning into a meadow, singing and sighing as one in the breezes,” Elizabeth replied.

                                “Well this is my own personal meadow” Raxie pointed out “These are all mine”.


                                “Who said that?”

                                “Was it that guy over there in the bowler hat and checkered past?”

                                “Don’t mention checkered pasts!” Elizabeth exclaimed, “Or the Ooh Dimension! You’ll open the sluice gates….”


                                “Who said that?” Elizabeth and Raxie exclaimed together.

                                “I don’t know, but that guy in the bowler hat’s disappeared, and can you see that fellow starting to appear over there? Must be a multidimensional Port Hole or something…”

                                “Well, we know what a Froopish and fabulously magical place this is, so it stands to reason…”

                                “Reason?” Raxie and Elizabeth were reduced to giggles at the very idea of reason having any standing.

                                “A portal to the Froop dimension, here? Wow! Can I see?”

                                “You’ll have to wear these goggles. And it will require some stamina, are you sure?”

                                “Of course I’m bloody sure” replied Elizabeth tartly. And then she began to intuit something.

                                “I don’t need googles*, silly!” she laughed. “I already AM multidimensional, I don’t need anyone elses googles. But it’s ok if you want to wear the googles” she added, not wishing to sound judgemental.

                                “Actually, I like this amethyst crystal myself, I like the frequency. I have dreams of amethyst sometimes, they are a delight.”

                                “Come and look at this sunset if you want to see a delight,” said Raxie, who was still a bit miffed about the goggles. “Who needs another dimension when we’ve got this one?”

                                Elizabeth sighed with speechless awe at the spectacular sunset, a reflection of all her colours, and all her dear ones colours, all blended together with magic aqua and sparks of blue and tones of orange blossom.


                                :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_whistling: :yahoo_whistling:

                                “What on earth are you doing?” asked Lilac.

                                “Whistling for aurora’s, silly” replied Nasturtium, commonly known as Nasty. “We did an energy pooling for auroras to come further south the other day, and I just heard from Petunia that they’ll come if we whistle. So I’m whistling!”

                                Lilac rolled her eyes and wandered off into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Nasturtium grinned when she heard Lilac whistling. Or was it the kettle?

                                “You know that bright aurora green?” Nasturtium said as Lilac returned with two steaming mugs of tea. “Well, my TV went that colour yesterday, green all over it was, bright green, just like the green of aurora’s.”

                                “I suppose you’ll be saying it was a personal visit from the aurora people” replied Lilac with a snort.


                                  With a temper he may have inherited from his mother (albeit adoptive), the shanghaied boy was proving to be quite a hassle to contend with. Minky was exhausted.

                                  First Yikes (that was the given name of the boy) had cried, pouted, and when gagged enough so that he wouldn’t be heard, he had then refused to walk, and even threatened to hold his breath till he would die. Good luck with this one, had laughed Minky (who had tried it before, but it never worked, and bossy old Messmeerah had promptly kicked him back to work). Actually, he was more annoyed with the refusing to walk kind of tantrum, because that meant he had to trudge with the boy on his back or on a luge, all the way to the evil lair —which wasn’t that evil, by the way, if you managed to focus away from the bloody stained altar…

                                  But there was something more serious he was quite anxious about —besides his bossy and irritable, though everlastingly beauteous, boss. He feared a certain purple dragon was on their trail…

                                  If I were you, came the ruffled sound from the makeshift luge that wouldn’t be the dragon I’d be worried about… Yikes was inwardly beautifully laughing (a trait he may have inherited by osmosis from Arona) thinking of how terrible Mandrake could be if asked to fetch something —a task he was too proud to refuse, and yet that he loathed to accomplish, as it was more fit to a canine than to his subtle feline standard.


                                    A trail of cornflowers was leading to it.


                                    Evangeline Spiggot sat outside the DDT bosses office, nervously twiddling her pony tail. She had no idea why she’d been summoned, but the tone of the memo was ominous. Eventually her boss, The Right Honourable B. F. Deale, was ready to see her.

                                    “What ho!” said Evangeline, in an effort to sound breezy and efficient.

                                    B.F. Deale glared. “Can you explain yourself?” he asked grimly.

                                    “Why, yes, sir! Sumari belonging, Ilda aligned, politic….”

                                    “I’m talking about DDT!” he shouted. “You’ve been diverting all our disaster damage calls to that ridiculous channeling show!”

                                    “Ah” she replied, “Yes, well, it seemed much more fun.”

                                    “Ah” replied B.F. Deale, momentarily non plussed. When he’d finsished unnecesarily shuffling some papers around on his desk, he continued. “Well, what about the disaster damage team? Hhhm? How are they supposed to, er, deal with disasters if they don’t even know about them?”

                                    Evangeline paused, giving the impression that she was deep in thought. In actual fact, she was deep in no thought, due to the influence of the Dead Dick Tracy channeled messages.

                                    “Well, sir, perhaps this indicates a changing trend towards having more fun and less disasters? Perhaps we could diversify, start our own Fun Department?”

                                    “By George, I think you’re on to something, Spiggot! I will hire someone to investigate this trend.”

                                    “Might I suggest Blithe Gambol, P.I.? Very hightly recommended, so I hear.”


                                    Blithe Gambol’s report was a trifle unexpected. She had advised her clients to take a closer look at Share’s Novel Attempt and the interesting new developments there before proceeding with the “case” which had rather cleverly turned into a picnic hamper

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