-
Search Results
-
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
wondered lilac, threads tart finally remarked “suppose entrance nothing?” told giant blubbit voice majorburgmester “ones link orange family case turn random heads”
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens
“Interested in interacting with you?” replied Mc Tart, “I should co co! Like a bloody morgue around here lately.”
“Er, who is Co Co?” Neb inquired politely.
Mc Tart grinned impishly. “A new character? I meant to say, I should think so! Although whether or not Co Co should think so is another matter entirely.”
“What might be the worth of what Co Co should think?”
“Good question, Neb!”
{link: worth}
In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens
“I had no idea we had so many characters, Godfrey” remarked Elizabeth, rubbing her eyes. She was just about to say “and who the devil is Mc Tart” when the door burst open by none other than Mc Tart. She was wearing a black dress teamed with a white pith helmet…
“No, I’m not” said Mc Tart. “This Mc Tart is not so black and white, my friend.” The character Mc Tart stood just inside the door looking defiant.
“Wait a minute, whoa, you’re my character, Mc Tart, if I say you’re wearing a black dress and a white pith helmet, then that’s what you’re wearing!” Elizabeth had no intention of being dictated to by one of her own characters.
“Black dress, white pith helmet, black and white, bore ~ ring” yawned Mc Tart. “We’re bored! What happened to your imagination? Who is Mc Tart anyway? Do you know?”
Elizabeth shook her head, tight lipped and uncharacteristically silent.
Mc Tart was wearing a floor length bright yellow garment which had an inbuilt feature of breeze fluttering about the scalloped layered hem, so that indoors or out, regardless of weather or air currents, the fluttering hem effect was maintained.
{from Elizabeth’s Mote Pad}
In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens
Racy Mc Tartshall had been absent for so long that it was hardly any wonder that nobody remembered her, despite the importance of her mission which had long since been forgotten. Mc Tart, as she was affectionately known (or would have been if anyone had remembered her) was a tartist of the highest calibre, consistently producing hugh class tart (which was of course three grades higher than high, and 2 grades higher than hagh, and so forth). Mc Tart had been investigating Nosebook, sniffing out potential distortions, claritortions, connectortions and myriad other contortions, for the distortium, claritortium, connectortium and contortium, respectively ~ focusing mainly on the connectortium, naturally enough.
While researching something or other that was no doubt relevant at the time but had long been forgotten, Mc Tart met Alfred in the Library. ““Aha! Alfred in the Library with a Book, was it!” she exclamined. “I knew I’d find a clue here”. “It wasn’t me!” he retorted, aghast. “It was Albert in the Chapless Pants club with a Rolling Pin!” Mc Tart, feigning an all knowing expression, replied “Ahhhh” and made a mental note to investigate.
Mental notes, known as m’otes for short, floated like wisps in the air currents and occasionally sparkled in the sunbeams, although more often than not, they clumped together under the bed in bunny shapes, slowly dying of boredom. Thankfully the sheer pointlessness of mental notes ~ m’otes ~ made not a whit of difference in the grand scheme of the connectortium investigation because of the abundant nature of Fluce’s ~ (fucking lucky chance encounters), notwithstanding the heated debates continuing in the Distortium about the precise nature of Fluce’s and their relationship to M’Otes ~ or not, depending on the point one wished to make at any particular time.
And so it was by Fluce that Mc Tart met Blithe, Heck and Walty in “le Tunnel” one dreary grey Noremember afternoon. There was nothing to suggest, on first inspection, any thing of interest for the Connectortium mission, but Mc Tart was not discouraged. “Many a moth maketh maths marbles” she reminded herself as she perused the nenu (which, the reader will deduce, is a hugher class of menu).
[link: high class]
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
While in the other Eightic Dimension, Lilac —catching a new weebit of inspiration— suddenly went off for a good old clue-hunt and some air-fishing of these whoohoo sparkling flying goldfishes (her morning cup of herbal coffree smelt like concrete today) — meanwhile, in the Peasland Dimension, the aliens had indeed departed. Not without leaving behind a sweet smell of peer compote that nobody knew for sure whether or not it should be considered slightly ominous.
As it should, the Saucerers who had been consulted on that matter had nothing better to do but further enhance the confusion. They all started to dread the arrival of a new species… Strawberries aliens.In reply to: Strings of Nines
“If I didn’t know better,” muttered Mandrake who’d been asked to fetch Arona’s mighty cape to cover her dignity while everybody were gathered and chatting around the flames, “it sure would look like a frigging Hallowe’en party to me…”
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Arona was starting to get cold in the pinkini. She wondered how the lady with the green hair managed to keep warm with so little (not to say as much as nothing) on her skin.
She probably had some fuel more lasting than just Nhum.
Upon seeing that (not the nakie lady, Flove forbid, but the freezing Arona and the night falling down), chivalrous Vinny and Bucky went to gather some bones and fire to spend the night around a nice bonefire. Just what she needed for a keetle of hot tea.Note from the observing Sue Maffey, who started quickly to get high and delirious on Nhum tea in chippendale cups and mumbled to herself and patient Minky-in-crutches in between a few hiccups: “you knew that a bonfire is actually a fire made of bones, originally said of fires in which the bones of slaughtered animals were burned, allegedly a Gaengelic tradition of the slaughter season in autumn (Samhain, which was soon to come).”
She almost gasped wondering where their camelephants had suddenly gone and why that purple reckless dragon suddenly looked satiated.By now, almost everyone else who was there, including (but not only) Mandrake, Yickesy, Winky-nakie-greenie-Messmeerah-with-her-carved-jamón and Mrs Janet had thought the same at least once. That and wondering whether they’d ever get to see that famed Jiborium.
So much for cheap package tours.In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Interestingly enough (or oddly enough one would say), in such reality, the bodies alone were reproducing while the heads had to constantly find out new bodies to cling to — when they felt the desire for movement, that is.
At least, that’s what the Forehead was thinking while shaving — as it did not have enough appendages to be able to meditate while defecating, which was by far, it was told, the best method of enlightenment known to Peasmen and other sensible beings.
Anyway, how odder can it be, it thought again. It may well be time to shift all of this a bit — why would each head need such a renewal of bodies and thus incarnations (or more properly, “embodiments”) without itself changing. Funnily enough, the alien bodies had in fact no need for heads. They actually had more than one: one for each of the sensory tendrils coming out of their shoulders. And according to them, Peasland bodies could very well start their ®evolution just now.In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Unable to hear, see, smell or taste in the usual manner, they sensed sound, aromas, sights and flavours with the sense threads that hung from their shoulders. Unfortunately sense threads were out of fashion this season and the aliens had plucked them all out, not wishing to appear passe and frumpy. Without their sense threads, however, they failed to notice that their appearance would no longer be appearing in any sense whatsoever to any of their friends. The senseless endeavour remained unsensed entirely, until the appearance of Eggboot, who immediately sensed (using a variety of sense apparatus) that this was all a strange kind of none sense party.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Vincentius was counterparting with his long lost triplet, Detritus, although he hesitated to mention it. “I had better not mention another character” he said wisely.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Arona was starting to wonder if Vincentius had been taken over by his evil twin brother – Demitrius. She decided to keep her suspicions to herself, at least for now.
“Silly me,” she said with a small smile. Or with just a slight stretch of the imagination it could have been a smirk.
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Eggwoot, rather bored by the meeting of the heads, rolled outside to enjoy a sneaky peagarette. He was startled to see a group of alien bodies in the distance making strange contortions.
“Are they dancing?” he wondered, intrigued.
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
There, at the special bodies event, a big spiritism session was organised.
Through one of the old bodies of wisdom, came forth the great Forehead of Mazelduk, eager to converse with the lowly bodies and impart its knowledge of the great things bodies couldn’t fathom.
Such thing was, for instance, that bodies of sweet Peasland did not need to wait for the coming of the alien bodies (the alien bodies would be easily recognizable, as they were shaped as pears). Peasland bodies could very much so start to contact them, on their own —and even better, with a bit of luck, hope for successfully abducting some of them.
Such was the grand wisdom of the Forehead.In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
In reply to: Strings of Nines
The TIme TRavel PArty YUrt had just landed on Ferris Island, in Frobisher Bay, for a special performance of the Aurora Borealis. Dr Ferris of Frobisher House, Dolphin Square, was one of the guests, oddly enough.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Shelly Dwelling, horrifed ~ naturally enough ~ at the mention of butter and parsley, was immensely relieved to see Frobisher the frog gliding along in his electric wheelchair. “Hop on, Shelly!” he whispered urgently “My wheelchair is super fast, I’ll get you out of this pickle in a jiffy!”
“Frobisher! Oh my godfrogs, it’s good to see you! What timing! But I can’t hop!”
“Well neither can I now, without my legs” he replied, “But you can climb up my wheel, can’t you?”
“Well ok, but don’t move, I’m on my way, this may take a while…”
“Hurry, Shelly! Hurry up! I can smell butter melting, there’s no time to lose!”
Unfortunately for Shelly who was a quarter of the way up the left wheel, Frobisher engaged his electric motor and sped off into the long grass. It would have been far too risky to wait.
“Hang on, Shelly! This will be the ride of your life!” he called, as Shelly spun round the giant Ferris Wheel.
“I suppose this is why your name is Frobisher Ferris” she replied through gritted teeth.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
“It has been metaphysically proven” (Mandrake snorted rather rudely, interrupting Arona’s retort) “That cheap copies sold in markets are just as effective as brand name products.” Arona glared at the cat and continued, “The only difference is in the mind of the buyer. In fact, one could go so far as to say ~ although one wouldn’t, normally ~ that buyers of brand name products are…”
“Don’t say it!!” shouted Mandrake, looking anxiously over his shoulder, “Don’t say it!”
Arona stopped in her tracks, wondering what on earth was the matter with Mandrake.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Arona gazed fondly at her bottle of Nhum before putting it carefully back in her bag. You couldn’t be too careful with bottles of Nhum. They weren’t easy to come by after all.
“What on earth is that? asked Mandrake.
“That, my dear Mandrake,” replied Arona smugly, “Is my bottle of Nhum.” She smiled enigmatically.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Of course, it wasn’t Mandrake, but a stray snakipooh, lured by the magical properties of Aronipooh’s feet that had started to lick her toes while Mandrake was away chewing on his pride. Arona had a split moment of pleasurable intensity before she came quickly to her senses to realize Mandrake wouldn’t do such an odd thing.
Arona wondered if the snakipooh would make a nice boa round her lovely shoulders, but then thought it would be a tad too daring and quite unecessary given her natural allure. She quickly shooed it away, searching in her magical bag, among the sabulmantium and her other belongings, for a bottle of Nhum.
