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  • #2452

    The Peasland Natarteum was a sort of time travelling portello in the Elsespace Arrangement, staffed by bridge tarts. Just about everyone had focuses as bridge tarts, it was quite a group focus. They were always merging and shape shifting and what not, so it was hard to pin anyone down. Sometimes, however, it was rather obvious.

    #2450

    Good thing for Pee and the others deep in the furcano; having no head to start with, they didn’t suffocate from the heinous Mother Blubbit attack.

    Nothing of that sort could be said for the adventurer in the Fly Boat, as they sadly had to go back to the heliport, owing to the dreadful weather condition.

    WHAT IN THE NAME OF TARTINUN IS HAPPENING NOW!?” asked in a terribly raucous voice Pee, unable to see his way through the smoke. (Tartinun was the goddess of Peagemite, a holy yeastly paste made of fermented peas, consumed by shamans in order to bridge the gaps to the Great Unhead Aknown).

    Unable to withstand the sheer amount of decibels of that raucous cry of despair, Mother Blubbit suddenly drop dead of a spleen failure.

    #2445

    Lilac frowned. “But I am too hungry to stop the blubbits.”

    “Lilac, this is an unprecedented situation, we must stop the pea dust,’” said Naturtium, rather sternly.

    “Well I am confused, are we stopping the blubbits, or the pea dust?”

    Naturtium, a rather charming nickname bestowed on her when she was young – her christened name was Nasturtium, looked thoughtful for a moment. “Right” she said at last, “You go and eat. I am going to study the situation carefully. It is imperative we get this right and save the Peaslanders. I suspect they are going to need their heads back …..”

    #2443

    Suprised by the unexpected visit, Mother Blubbit released a smothering plume of gases and ashes that started to fill in the tunnels of the Furcano.

    The effects were not unnoticed, as miles around, Peaslanders stopped in their daily activities (most of them being either sending blubbits ad madres or regulating the size of the peas) to stand in awe of the reactivated Furcano’s tip.
    If they had any such flying machines as they had in the Eighth dimension, they surely would have interrupted their activities too for a while… This was an event of grand importance, and maybe consequences.
    Mother Blubbit had been challenged.

    #2687

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    :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.

    #2686

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “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”.

      “Oops”

      “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….”

      “Antidisestablishmentarianism”

      “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.

      #2674

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      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.

      #2437

      Deep within the Furcano, the Mother of the Blubbits was growling. Her belly actually. She’d spent days and days, like every good blubbit alien mother, spawning a furry and ungrateful progeny.

      For each of the blubbits captured and slaughtered, she was compelled to balance the loss. Balance was her motivation —at first. Now she was starting to think that maybe drowning them in baby blubbits would be a better and quicker way to end their (and her) suffering.

      That was at that precise moment that something round and hairy rolled at her feet with a funny movement and strange soft sounds. How funny she thought, she suddenly felt compelled to balance that odd thing on her nose.

      Imagine the expression (yes you’d have to imagine it, because they didn’t have one) on the faces of our favorite Peaslanders when they came into the cave running after the rolling head to see said head balanced on the nose (pink and soft) of a giant and furry Mother Blubbit.

      #2436

      “I think they’re lost beyond hope” Muckus went back reporting to the evil Majorburgmester
      “Oh good!”
      “Probably more hopelessly lost than being in the Eighth if you ask me, last time I checked on them, there was a woman running for her head to the Furnace of the Furcano, and all the others following her…”
      “Sounds hairy.” the Major couldn’t help but add with a smirk on his face (framed and hanged to the wall) and a twitch in his left nostril.

      #2434

      “These old ezines and blogs are fascinating” remarked Periwinkle, passing the one she had just been reading to Daffodil. “Thank goodness some folks had the foresight to print some of them!” :news:

      “I know, imagine if they hadn’t. We’d have no artefacts for the collection. Well, we have all those flat discs, but no way to decipher them. Oh, did I tell you? Bignonia found something even older than the discs!” :search:

      “NO!” exclaimed Periwinkle “Do tell!” :yahoo_surprise:

      “Yes, even older! Funny looking contraption, with two reels and a ribbon. An information storage device, so they say, although they haven’t discovered how to decipher it.” :yahoo_nerd:

      “I wonder why we’re still not simply accessing that information without, well, without messing around with the physical contraption, you know?” :yahoo_idk:

      “Wouldn’t be any point in being here in the first place, if we weren’t going to mess around with physical things, silly” replied Daffodil. :yahoo_doh:

      There was no answer to that, so Periwikle didn’t answer. She continued to thumb through the printed pages. :news:

      Periwinkle and Daffodil sat together on the patio in the warm spring sunshine, sipping lemonade :fruit_lemon:
      and leafing through the papers. Bright white clouds in cartoon shapes romped across the blue sky, :weather-few-clouds:
      and the birds chattered in the trees, :magpie: :magpie:
      occasionally landing on the printed pages and cocking their heads sideways to read for a moment, before flying off to tell their friends, which was usually followed by a raucous group cackling. :yahoo_heehee: :yahoo_heehee: :yahoo_heehee:

      “Dear Goofenoff” read Daffodil, “This one looks interesting Peri, someone here is asking for advice on a problem.” :help:

      “What’s a “problem”, Daffy?” asked Periwinkle. “For that matter, what does the word “advice” mean? Oh, never mind” she said as she noticed Daffodil rolling her eyes, “I’ll look it up in my pre shift dictionary of defunct words.” :notepad:

      “She’s asking the Snoot too, about the same problem. Oh, I think I’ve heard of them! It’s coming back to me, the old Snoot’n‘Goof team, they were quite famous in the beginning of the century, I remember hearing about them before in a Shift History discussion.” :cluebox:

      “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of them, but then, I’ve never been into history like you, dear. So what is this “problem” all about, then?” :yahoo_daydreaming:

      “I’ll read it out to you, it’s way too convoluted to put in a nutshell. Lordy, they sure did complicate matters back then, it’s almost unbeleivable, really, but anyway, here goes:

      Dear Goofenoff,

      I don’t know what to do! I am confused about which probable version of a blog freind, let’s call him MrZ, I have chosen to align with. The first probable version was ok, nothing to worry about, and then I drew into my awareness the probable versions of MrZ that some of my freinds had chosen to align with….”

      “Blimey”, interrupted Periwinkle, who was starting to fidget. “Is it much longer?” :yahoo_not_listening:

      “It’s alot longer, so be patient. Where was I? Oh yes: :yahoo_nerd:

      “….and while that was very interesting indeed, and led to lots of usefully emotionally heated discussions, I started to align with their probable version, at times, although not consistently, which led to some confusion. So then I had a chat with someone who was more in alignment with my original probable version, although there were aspects of that probable version that were a little in alignment with the other folks probable version, notwithstanding. I suppose I was still in alignment with the other folks probable version when it came to my attention that there was another individual that might be aligning with a probable version, and my question is, in a nutshell, is it any of my business which probable version the new individual on the scene is aligning with?” :yahoo_thinking:

      “Well, I can tell you the answer to that!” exclaimed Periwinkle. :yahoo_smug:

      Daffodil rolled her eyes. “Yes, dear, WE know the answer, but the point is, SHE didn’t know the answer at the time, which is why she asked Goofenoff.” :yahoo_straight_face:

      “If you ask me, she knew the answer all along” Periwinkle intuited. “What did Goofenoff say anyway?” :yahoo_eyelashes:

      “He said:

      Are you requiring a short or a long answer?” :yahoo_raised_eyebrow:

      Daffodil turned the page to continue reading. She frowned, and flicked through a few pages.

      “What a shame, some of these pages appear to be missing! Now we’ll never know what Goofenoff said.” :yahoo_skull:

      Periwinkle laughed. “Well, never mind that anyway, have you seen the random story quote today? Rather synchronistic I’d say, listen to this bit: :paperclip:

      Illi felt much better, and was sitting at the breakfast table, basking in the warm shafts of sunlight filtering in through the window, and listening to the birds singing in the lemon tree outside.”
      :weather-clear: :magpie: :fruit_lemon: :weather-few-clouds:

      #2431

      BUGGER! it RooOOooOOlled agaAAaaain’ Doily whined while running after her head in the terrible black path leading to the Pit of the Furcano.

      The others watched in horror, not knowing if they should follow her or not.

      #2430

      While Doily was having her back turned in utter bewilderment, Muckus put the icons back to the way they were —he really didn’t expect to have headless Peaslanders (some less headless than the others too) remarking any of that signalization stuff (and least of all the blond Doily who still managed to forget to maintain her head fast on her shoulders, as she had not yet found another replacement for her lost head fasterer).

      #2428

      Oh my God! exclaimed Doily. The code’s been tampered with! Now we’ll never get out of here!

      Huh? said Pee.

      The Coded Icons, they’ve been edited!

      Oh NO! said Pee, aghast.

      :yahoo_surprise:

      #2426

      “Finally the answer we need! Let’s release the damn bird and get back home now! Besides its cage needs cleaning and it’s starting to smell, and I can’t stand this place any longer…” Doily couldn’t be stopped.

      Foolishly getting by that that Doily had understood most and perhaps all of the Cloud’s mysterious riddle, and that she even had managed to remember it, by a chance even slimmer than that of crossing the Eight’s Portal alive, Pee agreed with a nod of his neck.

      Once the birds’ released (with a good manly slapping as the feathery creature was a bit reluctant and groggy from being rocked in its cage), they were instantaneously and quite unsurprisingly back again near the Saucerer’s house, all safe in their beloved Peasland, ravaged by blubbits holes.

      #2424

      Doily said matter-of-factly to her little troop of headless travellers “Fancy a cup of tea?”

      As none of them really cared to answer to the obvious fact that they didn’t have any teapot or sugar not to mention milk, lemon, and of course tea (other than a few random leaves that could have been used as an ersatz) she pursued her inspired tirade “Did you know that the Reunited Landers invented tea-bags by the way?”

      Silence again.

      “I just suddenly remembered, and it’s the funniest thing believe me… Those bloody Yorkies were sent some tea samples in silk pouches and they thought it the next best thing since the invention of boiled water and asked for more!…”
      “Perhaps we should catch the blubbits in silk pouches…” she added after a moment.
      “Frankly, anyone wanting to get home?” she then said with a bit of alarm in her voice “This Eighth Dimension doesn’t really got the promises of fun they sold us.”

      “I was starting to think the same,” Pee answered raucously, startling everyone off their self induced Kuzhedoor trance state.

      #2667

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      Robin Peter’s wife, Felicity, was handing out sample bottles of shampoo on the opposite street corner. Felicity knew that fresh rain water was marvellous for the hair, and often wondered why so many people went to such extraordinary lengths to keep their hair covered during the rain. They ran across roads in front of traffic, and dashed hither and yon, tiptoeing through puddles, racing home to their houses and flats, and then went straight into the shower to get themselves wet ~ after they accidentally got themselves wet outside.

      “There’s nowt so queer as folk,” as Felicity’s Granny always used to say.

      :yahoo_billy:

      #2665

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        They were thick as theives, freinds for thousands of centuries, or even more; sometimes thick, sometimes theives, and anything else you might imagine. They got together again and again in this time and that, here, there and elsewhere, just for the fun of it. There was nothing they liked more than a puzzling occurance, or a riddle, or a basket full of clues to ponder over, unravel, and turn around and around, toying with meanings until they found one they liked. They had a home in The City, sort of a home base so to speak, where they met regularly each night in the dream state, regardless of which time or place they spent their waking hours. It was sometimes a releif to meet up at home in The City and always a pleasure: sometimes it was hard to stay under the radar back down on the ground, it was part of the job to stand out in the crowd, which often resulted in a lynching, or a ducking, or the stocks, at the very least. All too often it ended up on top of a bonfire, tied to a stake.

        One day in one of the Decembers, in amongst all the sweet dreams they often shared, they started having some unsettling group dreams, where they all felt like they were betwixt and between, falling through the cracks you might say. It was a feeling similar to dying of thirst, although it wasn’t really a physical thirst, it was more than that, a hungry yearning sort of thing. Some of them had strange nightmares, of a monstrous beast, and some of them actually saw beasts in the daytime too, especially on those falling through the cracks days. When they met up at home in The City, they compared notes about the beasts, and not always, but sometimes they found they were mirroring each others beasts. That often ended up in a heated debate, because the more mirroring that occurred, the more real the beast seemed. Some said that the beasts that appeared when you fell through the cracks were in a deep ravine, in a manner of speaking, and not of this plane at all. Others argued that if the beasts appeared through the cracks, then they were on this plane.

        And so it went on, and on. There were many more puzzling occurances to come, and lots of meanings to be considered, rejected, or taken on board for the friends, as thick as thieves, to turn around and around, and hold up to the mirror for closer inspection and dissection. They were making a tapestry, a huge rich colourful tapestry, and all the puzzling occurences, and even the beasts, were depicted in the colourful threads and patterns. They were the warp, you might say, of the weave. Love was the weft.

        “Congratulations, Liz” Godfrey remarked drily. “Are you supposed to use three months worth of creative writing challenges in one entry?”

        “Don’t be silly, Godfrey, of course not. Rules are meant to be broken, that’s what they’re for.”

        #2421

        Phurt was vaguely aware to have been alive in different times, and in different surrounding. The memories kept coming at the oddest and less practical of all times, like this one when she’d jumped through the talking glass. They were nevertheless precise and vivid enough to be more than just strikes of fancy. Besides, she was but all a fancy spider.

        The last one she remembered (and the ten previous ones before it) was being admonished and crushed (literally) by the words (and the one uttering them) “you and your kind are not welcome here!” Actually, if you wanted to be precise, the previous to last time, she’d been drowned in the pipes —but still, she could hear the fateful “you and your kin… gurgle gurgle.”

        She didn’t know for certain when and where she’d vowed to gain dominion over these Crushing Others, and all her failed attempts and these strange karmic glimpses that had her reincarnated over and over certainly did help, if so slightly, to get closer to this goal.

        Now she needed a nice dark and clean place (yeah hence the stupid tub of last which proved to be clean enough, but barely dark for long enough) to spin a nice thin web and gather enough food for her dear little ones.

        #2418

        “You know, I could sit on a beach til the end of time” Shar remarked, letting the sand run through her fingers as they watched the sun go down over the sea, “and I’d never really understand how we started off as Sand ~ A Shard is nothing like Sand. Window, yes, I can see how a Shard came from Window, that makes sense ~ but SAND?….”

        #2417

        “Now you’ve gorn and done it! They’ll all know that Shar is really one of ‘them that shan’t be joked about’!” exclaimed Mavis.

        “What the fuck are you on about, our Mavis?” asked Gloria. “You mean the Shards what started off as Windows? Is our Sha one of them Shards then, what’s doing them chemtrails?”

        Mavis gasped in horror. “You mustn’t talk about the Shards like that” she whispered, looking nervously behind her.

        “I happen to know that this is the Lupin Express” replied Gloria, who was transitioning strongly.

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