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  • #2284
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      “Ahaha, in the dark broom cupboard with Dieter Jentz, indeed!” the cleaning lady couldn’t help but snicker with a raised eyebrow upon a pair of rolling eyes (quite a feat to accomplish one should add).

      #2281
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        G3 (short for GGG, which was shorter for Good God Gordy) asked as if to himself “Anyone met the Fisherman yet?”

        :fleuron:

        Gremwick put down the Psychic Politics book he’d taken for his assignment, his five words written on a lemon coloured sticker:

        Oof… here we go, “state — briefly — fisherman — library — pigeons”… There’s a bit of challenge here. he sighed, mostly uninspired.
        “Perhaps I should have stayed with the easy words like ‘more, is, less, think, true’”.

        :fleuron:

        “Do you mean the Fisherman’s coming? How long has it been already?” Ann started to count briefly on her chubby fingers.
        “Well, I guess if you’d be more assiduous in Pr. Rose’s class in bird divination, you’d found out that the pigeons’ flight was unmistakably precise on that matter.”
        “I tried, believe me, I tried to pay more attention,…” Ann said, “but frankly, I prefer direct experience of the broom cupboard to the draughty corridors of the library…”
        “Oh, I should say I’m a bit disappointed at you; I’ve always believed the state of dustiness would have been an incentive to you rather than a deterrent.”

        “Don’t underestimate the incentive of detergent” Monica said almost mischievously under her breath.

        #2280

        It was a pleasant walk to the Academy from Ann’s student digs, the leafy suburbs of Poubelleville were dappled with sunlight and sweetly scented with lilac blossom. Bird twittered in the trees and miniature zebras nibbled at the grass verges as Ann made her way to class. As she walked past a sidewalk cafe she spotted Monica, or rather Monica spotted Ann, and called her over to join her for a cup of rhubarb tea. Ann had forgotten she was late for class, and gave Monica the customary seven kisses ~ three on each cheek, and a final one on the nose ~ and pulled out a chair.

        True to form ~ for Monica was the Academy’s best known gossip ~ after the inital pleasantries, the conversation soon turned to the latest scandal. Max the janitor, one of the students, and Professor Moose had been caught engaging in a menage a trois in the broom cupboard.

        “All in aid of an assignment, so they said” explained Monica. “Who did you choose for your menage a trois, Ann? You’re in old Moose’s class, aren’t you?”

        “Yeah, but I didn’t translate the assigment that way.” Ann frowned. “Gosh, I wrote a haiku about slobber instead, everyone will think I’m all prim and prunes.”

        “Well, we only need one more” replied Monica with a sly grin.

        “What?” Ann blushed as she cottoned on. “Oh!”

        Monica wriggled about in her chair, revealing an expanse of lean tanned thigh, not altogether accidentally.

        “Mind if I join you?” asked Good God Gordy, calling to the waiter for a cup of Hornygoatweed tea.

        #2629

        In reply to: Strings of Nines

        “Oops, I got me directions wrong again” said Gloria, “I think we’re a trifle overdressed. I weren’t aiming fer the nudist beach, I was aiming fer the prehistoric cairns.”

        “Trust you to land us ‘ere, Glor!” Sharon replied, averting her eyes from the spectacle or milk bottle white flesh and unappetizing dangly bits. “Speaking of tea bags, I fancy a nice cuppa.”

        :yahoo_coffee:

        “No bloody tea bag icon” grumbled Gloria.

        #2258

        Oh, lifting cupbaords. For a minute I thought he was yawning about all the short comments.

        What on earth are you on about now, Heliptrope? asked Lavender, a trifle crossly.

        #2257

        Harvey couldn’t restrain a yawn. A continuous yawn actually.
        He was quite tired after a whole day of weight-lifting with cupboards. A thing he couldn’t help despite his recent injury, and that he had barely managed to keep from Lavender’s spying.

        #2249

        Now, now Lavvie dear, you know I detest hugging. Grandma Heliotrope extricated herself from Lavender’s embrace. It is so bohemian. If you wish to show me affection then a smile will suffice. A cup of hot vegemite would not go amiss either. Then I have an important message from the Fellowship for you. Sadly, you really have managed to get yourself in a pickle this time my dear Lavvie.

        #2234

        Jeeze, the little brats have stopped me from getting me beauty sleep looking for the darn eggletons! Shar was seating outside sipping her cup of tea while conversing with her old friend Glor.

        I was about to tell you the same Shar!… i need my beauty kip. Yer niece and nephew… Holly Molly

        Niece and nephew… what you on about? The nephewer the merrier if you ask me

        As if we not got enough with them prescription drugs from the bathroom cabinet stopping us from sleeping!

        Want to see them comin’ near our beds those!

        Oh no, not our beds! Glor recoiled in horror.

        Stupid drugs… Better for ‘em not come close when I’m ‘ere, or we’ll have to learn how to sleep standing!

        Wouldn’t like to see your hump sleeping standing!

        Not hump,… haunch, silly! Wouldn’t be so good anyway covered with blankets… Shar lost her trail of thought in remembrance of her past bedroom encounters.

        A sudden crack in the nearby potting shed raised the ample bottom of the one named Glor in alarm.

        #2511

        In reply to: Strings of Nines

        “Jeeze, the little brats have almost ruined all our naggin plants looking for the darn eggletons!” Shar was seating outside sipping her cup of tea while conversing with her old friend Glor.
        “I was about to tell you the same Shar!… Yer niece and nephew… Holly Molly…”
        “Niece and nephew… The nephewer the merrier if you ask me”
        “As if we not got enough with the does from the forest comin’ for food in our plantations!”
        “Want to see them comin’ near our crops those!”
        “Oh no, not our crops!” Glor recoiled in horror.
        “Stupid does… Better for ‘em not come close when I’m ‘ere, or we’ll have to learn how to cook haunch!”
        “Wouldn’t have your hump for dinner!”
        “Not hump,… haunch, silly! Wouldn’t be so good anyway stuffed with lead pellets…” Shar lost her trail of thought in remembrance of her past hunting skills.

        A sudden crack in the nearby potting shed raised the ample bottom of the one named Glor in alarm.

        #2225

        Annabel Ingram was chatting the tourists through her guided tours, but most of the time, her mind was wandering elsewhere.
        As a matter of fact, she often thought she should have been named “Wandering Elsewhere” instead. These were her two favourite words in the whole Manilvan language. Scholars had made fancy claims like basement portal or something of that ilk was the loveliest words combination, but she’s never been one to follow the trends and fleeting modes anyway.

        All in all, it was probably time she got herself a new job; touring the tourists in the middle of “ohs” and “ahs” to the Doorway of the Goddess Amarylis Moo Rue? Not for her any longer.
        To be bluntly honest she was beginning to find herself a little of a fraud, as she tried to maintain a decent level of excitement at the ridiculous amazement of the tourists when they recounted their litanies of visions of Goddess Amarylis surrounded with cohorts of naked ladies and bare butt cupids holding wreaths of flowers. Amarylis was the Goddess of Flove. A glorious goddess representing the duality of the aspects of love and death. Quite a hype for people coming from the cities, eager to get a quick shot of esoteric experiences.

        But she’d seen Amarylis more than once, and it was not all that pretty behind the scenes. She was not as mean as herself, but she wasn’t the last to poke fun at people for whisking unwarranted followers to the altars. Anyway, that and her perfumes, honestly you had to wonder. Lavender and decaying morue (cod), what a blend… :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

        #1282
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Speaking of toomoorroow, Elizabeth,there is something I have been meaning to say to you for some time now. Godfrey cleared his throat nervously. Somehow with all our deep, and incredibly meaningful philosoophising about life, I clean forgot to mention it.

          Clean is hardly the word I would have used whilst anywhere in the vicinity of this ooffice, muttered Finnley, mostly to herself, as she attempted to dislodge a large spooder web from the corner of the ceiling.

          Godfrey hesitated. He looked down and with somewhat unusual preoccupation made spiral patterns in the thick layer of dust on the window ledge.

          Godfrey, what is it? asked Elizabeth starting to feel some alarm. Oh in the name of Floove, you haven’t found another Felicity have you!

          No, nothing like that. The thing is, you see … well …

          Spoot it out! You are driving me Madder than Almad! snapped Elizabeth, losing patience, and craving nicobeck. She knew that meddlesome Finnley would take great delight in reporting her to Mr Arak if she smoked in the ooffice.

          Godfrey sighed and looked up, directly into Elizabeth’s beautiful violet, albeit rather bloodshot, eyes.

          I have been offered a position managing a poonut farm in Noo Zooland. I start immediately. It is a dream come true for me Elizabeth. I had to accept.

          No! screamed Elizabeth.

          Yes, I am afraid so. Goodbye dear Elizabeth. We both knew I was a rubbish pooblisher. Why don’t you see if that chap Bronkel will come back?

          Good riddance I say! said Finnley as Godfrey walked out the door. You two have done nothing but speak noonsense in a hooty tooty accent since that man arrived.

          #1275

          “Oh great!” Dory felt relieved when she saw Dan on the muddy yellow tractor coming up the hill.

          She’s been boulder-moving with the neighbours for hours now on Salitre, to remove the blocked entrance of what was believed to be an ancient opening to a cave, or better, a tunnel full of mysteries. And despite her unwavering enthusiasm, she started to show signs of tiredness.

          “Whose truck is that?” asked Dory to Dan who was grinning on top of the monster
          “The old folks at Juan’s pueblo; I figured out they got that tractor that hasn’t been used since Jose and Paquita inherited their millions and buggered off a while ago…”
          “Bless them!” sighed Dory in relief, reaching for another cup of the warming mulled wine that Leonora had been preparing for the Yule Boulder Party.

          #1261

          “Hey Leo, I had a blinding revelation last night, after Barb left.”

          “Well, do tell, Bea, I’m all ears” said Leonora with an encouraging smile, pouring herself a cup of tea.

          “Well the moment was far clearer than I can explain it but it went something like this” Bea continued. “Bearing in mind that the FOCUS DIRECTS so the question of ‘directing’ essence is another choice of puzzle piece of the individual puzzle game at any moment…”

          “Ye-es” replied Leonora, making an effort to concentrate.

          “To connect to an individual focus is but a baby step towards being able to comprehend the interconnectedness of everything that you create, and that it is all in fact you.” Bea went on, adding “Like a beginner stage as it were, to keep it manageable.”

          “Keeping it manageable sounds like a good idea” interjected Leo, pointedly glancing around at the disorder in the kitchen.

          Unperturbed, Bea continued “You draw to yourself parts or, if you like, focus points or other focuses of All That Is —of the whole that are at that moment useful.”

          “Sounds reasonable, Bea, do continue. Pass the gingerbread men, would you?”

          “All of the characters in the stories I write, for example, are my focuses in a manner of speaking, as are all the characters in anything I bring into my world my focuses if I choose to SEE THEM FOR A MOMENT FROM THEIR FOCUS VIEWPOINT.”

          “Ok, ok, no need to shout!”

          “I’m not shouting, Leo, let me finish and stop interrupting! Adding another focus is an analogy in a way for adding another focus or point of view to mine.
          Dividing the actions of adding focus viewpoints into sections is useful in order to comprehend the scope of possible actions, but only initially, and as more actions are experienced objectively, the sections and labels become limiting and confining.” Bea paused for a sip of coffee and a long draw on her cigarette. “But they do keep it manageable to some degree, it must be said” she added.

          “Yes, keep it manageable, by all means, couldn’t agree more”

          “Everyone’s puzzle game is their own,” Bea was on a roll. “And the same puzzle piece, or other focus in this case, for one, would fit equally well into a completely different puzzle game of someone else’s because all of the surrounding puzzle pieces of each individuals puzzle game are created in each moment and are chosen for their relevance to that moment.”

          “Good point, dear.”

          “Likewise an individuals puzzle game is a new one in each moment and the puzzle pieces are interchangeable within the same puzzle game, depending on their relevance to the moment and the chosen surrounding puzzle pieces.”

          As usual with blazing flashes of illumination, Bea found that they were hard to form into words, and when she did manage to get them into words, they look so screamingly obvious.

          “Does that make sense to you, Leo?” she asked.

          “Er, I think so Bea, I’m getting the gist…”

          Interrupting, Bea continued to describe her revelations to her now glassy eyed friend. “And on the subject of trusting, doubting, confusion and so on”

          “Oh, yes, confusion…”

          “We are here shiftING, not shiftED, this is what we are choosing.
          With the variety of viewpoints we have, the shifted and the unshifted and the semi-shifted, there is always something new to notice from yet another new perspective. Why not get really enthusiastic about the ride itself instead of planning how to float through it with the least fuss ~ it’s more fun on the helter skelter with its many perspectives and view points than on the mill pond for those of us who choose shiftING.”

          “I dunno, Bea, from my perspective floating on a millpond sounds rather pleasant.”

          “Well, at least now we know that what we don’t know is there to know.”

          “Yes, there’s no doubt about that!” relied Leonora, “Have you finished? That was all very interesting but don’t forget we invited everyone over for the Yule Boulder Moving party. We should get a move on with the preparations you know”

          :yahoo_coffee:

          #1258

          “Well, what a coincidence!” exclaimed Bea, as her freind Baked Bean Barb described the book she had just started reading. It was all about ancient inscriptions in Antartica, which was what Bea had been reading about online just before Barb arrived.

          “Some of it’s fact” Barb was saying “But the rest of it’s made up; interesting though!”

          “Oh, I can’t wait til they find remains of the civilization under the ice there!” Bea said, to which Barb replied “There’s no civilization there. Nope. There’s nothing ever been found, nothing at all scientifically proven about that. The book’s fiction.”

          “Well, they haven’t found it yet, Barb ~ if the scientists had proof, it would be found already. Until things are found they don’t exist?”

          “There’s nothing there, there’s no proof!” Barb said firmly, shaking her head.

          “What about all the new things we keep finding out about, before we knew about them, they didn’t exist, is that what you mean?” Bea persisted, trying to get her point accross. Then she wondered why she was trying to get her point accross in the first place. She knew what her point was.

          Well, at least I think I do, she said to herself.

          “Fancy a cuppa, Barb? Leo bought some nice nettle teabags, how’s that sound?”

          Ooh yes please! Got anymore of those gingerbread men?”

          Sometimes the actual point wasn’t at all the same thing as the point you thought you were making. Bea gave herself points for noticing this, although she wasn’t at all sure what the point of the whole thing was, objectively anyway. Distraction tactics always worked, but once summoned, the distractions were indiscriminate and chaotic. On the way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Bea glanced out of the window and noticed a shaft of light illuminating the rocks and casting deep shadows into the crevices, the resulting effect looking for all the world like mysterious ancient inscriptions. She reached out for her camera, which was always conveniently handy, as she strode out of the door, single minded in pursuit of the capture of a moment of light as if drawn by a magnet, or reeled in like a fish.

          Barb eventually found her, some 57 minutes later, pruning the oleander down by the stream.

          #1257
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            “Don’t bother me with that now, Godfrey! Can’t you see I’m swamped with ideas? I’ve got so many things to write I simply don’t know where to start. Which is why I’m starting right here and now, with the issue of the writer being overloaded with potential story lines.”

            Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair distractedly, and impatiently pushed the miniature giraffe off her lap.

            “Relax, Liz”. Singularly unruffled, Godfrey picked up the giraffe and stroked his neck. “Tranquilo, Lizzie, tranquilo!”

            “What? Oh, well done Godfrey, that’s taken care of one thing off my list then! One of my theme words had to be a foreign word.” Elizabeth started to relax. “And what finer word is there than tranquilo, eh, what a marvellous word.”

            “Indeed” replied Godfey “But is that the correct usage of the creative writing theme words? I mean, really, you could just write ‘Liz had a list of theme words and they were a foreign word, dual~duel, marmalade sunrise, appreciate and adore, summer rain, beyond the horizon’ and leave it at that, couldn’t you?”

            Godfrey, you are clever!” Elizabeth congratulated herself. “But what about all the other ideas?”

            “Well, why not start by making a list? Jot down a few clues. Or just start writing, and see what happens. I’ll put the kettle on while you make a start, fancy a cuppa?”

            “Oooh yes please! Finnley bought some new teabags this week, quite spicy they are as well.”

            Godfrey sniggered as he disappeared into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “Have you got any of those gingerbread men left?”

            #1249

            Siobhan was settling into her new job at the Freakus, fitting like a duck to water into her position as Head Cage Rattler. It wasn’t an easy job to do which was why the rewards were so high; it certainly wasn’t everyones cup of tea, and good Cage Rattlers were hard to find. Oh, there were plenty of Cage Rattlers, true, but not good ones. A good Cage Rattler had to have a certain “je ne say kwah”, an impermeability, much like the oily feathers of a duck, enabling the Cage Rattler to glide easily through troubled waters without sinking ~ without even getting wet, if they were very skilled.

            The success of the Freakus show depended on new ideas and inspirations. The audience, as well as the participants of course, wanted something new, something challenging, something inspiring, something ‘out of the box’ for each show, not the same old boring routines. There was nothing entertaining about the same old tricks rehashed over and over again, even if they were well known and easy to perform. True, there were many of the general public who preferred the familiar acts, but they generally weren’t fans of the innovative and forward thinking Freakus show. Freakus was new, exciting, thought provoking and entrancingly different, hence the importance of the Cage Rattlers.

            When the performers and cast members of Freakus got too complacent or too boring, it was Siobhan’s job to disturb them, to rattle their cages, yes, to upset them. Clearly it was undeniably important that Siobhan not take their retaliations personally; after all, she was just doing her job. She was shaking things up purposefully for the overall benefit of the show, it was a simple as that. It wasn’t her job to direct or lead those in the rattled cages, simply to disturb them from their boring old routines. Freakus, after all, wasn’t about the old and boring, it was about the new and exciting, and it was up to the individual performers to come up with a new act.

            #1234

            Gloria had volunteered to go fetch whatever thing she could find to feed the measly fire burning in a ice crevice. They were starting to get a bit hungry and the watermelbomb once exploded weren’t giving off much to feed on. She was starting to hallucinate delicious roasted penguins on a fire, with a slice of bread and whale lard, and a smoking cup of algae tisane…

            “Golly, this is gettin’ sick! The little buggers are so cute…” she mused, fondly overlooking the flock of penguins on the shore, some diving and catching fish, others nursing, some gliding lazily on the glittering ice.

            “Now look at this!” she said “SHA! SHA! Com’ere!”

            :fleuron:

            “What the ‘eck!” Akita couldn’t believe its ears.
            “Weeehoo! We’re goin’ome, and on a cruise mind ye!” Mavis was beaming.
            “On a frigging iceberg! You can’t be serious!”
            “Oh don’t be such a party pooper Akitooh, it’s perfect!” Sharon said
            Not even trying to be reassuring, Mavis echoed “Yes! Remember BBC talkin’ about it years ago; just another mad project they said. But I loved that! Mad projects ye know… never thought I would see that in my lifetime. Guess the project has been funded after all. Drifting bagged icebergs to Africa through the Indian Ocean! Now that’s a plan!”
            “And look! this one has got propellers, and a little platform,… and a satellite dish!” Sharon was inspecting the behemothic plastic-bagged iceberg on rockets which was bobbing up and down, still anchored to the nearby whale-watching base.
            “Hope it’s not teleguided by aliens though…” Gloria said a bit wearily.

            “Well, I suppose it’s our best option for now” Akita was trying to be appreciative of the ladies efforts. “And how do we hop on that thing?”

            “Oh, that’s easy! Bring the ropes girls!”

            #1232

            “Girls! Let’s ‘ave a rest! Akita’s waking up!” Sharon’s powerful voice commanded the caravan of snooter-powered hairy ladies to a halt.

            “Wow, I really start to love this place,” Gloria was reeling. “And who knew all this extra hair would come in so handy. Look! Another aurora borealis !”
            “Yeah, an’ another crowd of trillion of these darn Adélie penguins shoutin’ like Freddy during those bloody crickets cups…” said Mavis with a sniffle, pointing at the icy coastline blackened by the seemingly boundless flock of little noisy creatures.
            “And how the heck you so sure they’re Adultery penguins?” snapped Gloria a bit vexed her sharing of the beauties of the white paradise was left soiled by Mavis “like you’re goin’ to impress us with your botanic knowledge-it-all? Just because you love looking at those stupid nightly animal documentaries?”

            “Be still girls! Bring those watermelbombs to make a fire, food and water, we’re camping here until Akita’s ready to go.”

            #1217

            It took Akita a few minutes to come back to himself, and a few more to make sense of the situation.

            At first he thought a huge six-eyed hairy creature was staring at him, but then the blur started to dissipate and he recognized by order of appearance, Sharon the divine, Gloria the brave, and Mavis the eloquent.

            — Shtttt! He’s coming back!
            — Are you okay? How many fingers do I have?
            — Oh, shut up Glor, we’d better be quick before they all come back from lunch; rather carry him on my back than having to eat their bloody penguin grub once again!
            — Oh, all my fur for a few scones with a cup of Earl Grey!

            “Mmmm…” Akita managed to say “Where on Earth did you get those expensive fur coats? and why are you keeping them under your blouses?!”… “And where was Kay when he needed it?” he asked to himself.

            “Oh, bugger it” shouted Sharon “no time for explanations, let’s move now! Chop, chop! Glor, you take the snet and the ropes, Mav’ all the watermelbombs you can get; and don’t blow yourself up; I’ll take Akitoo. To the snow scooters’ hangar! Now!”

            #1216
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              “Jeeze, I can’t help to be continuously amazed by BeckyAl said more to himself than to Tina who was reading silently in the room next to his.
              “She struggles so hard at times, when all she needs is a little attention…” he continued in his breath.

              “What are you moaning about again?” Tina said, who unlike Becky was paying much attention even when she didn’t look like it.
              “Moonbeams! Did you see that last entry? There was as close as moon and beams as you could get in the previous entries in the Reality Play… I really wonder why we make things so hard for ourselves at times…”

              — Well, because it’s fun, I suppose she’ll tell you… Come on, you know how she is, you don’t need to play your sumafreak labouring it to the bitter end…
              — I suspect you’re right… And who cares about randomness anyway; it doesn’t look much fun these past few days, does it?
              — Sure…
              — Like I say. Look, you don’t even barely write yourself; if I didn’t know you’re here, I would probably do with the Play like the tomatoes plant; uproot it and cut it in pieces in a plastic bag for recycling.
              — Oh, but you have to admit the bedroom looks so much better without all these creepers around the place… All for what, twenty one tiniest tomatoes?
              — Plus the last two still ripening on the cupboard, Al retorted in a sullen manner.

              After a moment of silence, Tina laid her book down, and came closer
              — Yeah, you’re right, I don’t find it very funny for the moment, especially with that shift of vowellness in the Ooh dimension,…
              — Hehe, you mean, that nasty habit of telling ‘peanut’ instead of ‘poonut’?
              — Oh yes, but not only that,… Well, it looks like all my characters are eluding me, becoming alien… if you see what I mean… :yahoo_alien:
              — Yes, I see; and I must say you’re doing great with that; Becky would faint at the mere mention of something becoming alien, Al couldn’t help but laugh. :yahoo_oh_go_on:
              — No, but seriously…
              — I know. I think what we need is some more of your inimitable talent at creating syncs. You’ve always been the connector my dear with those “magifestations” of yours.
              :creating_magic:

              She smiled. :yahoo_happy:

              — Now, speaking of random syncs, what have you got to say about that; we could create a music band :bounce: :yahoo_whistling:
              — What?
              — Hang on, here’s the band’s name: 57th Ward of New Orleans and we could call our first album… Mmm… That’s it: The Cup To Overflowing … What do you think? :agreed:

              Mmmm… that may sound weirdo, but it seems very feisty all of a sudden ! :yahoo_clown: :buffoon: :yahoo_party:

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