Search Results for 'laugh'

Steady on, Becky! said Tina, alarmed. You nearly had that rocking chair right over!

Becky steadied the chair and started to laugh. ‘Off my rocker’ sync, she chortled to Tina. Ahahaha, too funny!

Tina raised an eyebrow at her freind, who was beginning to have a mad gleam in her eye, and was starting to appear a trifle hysterical.

Steady on, Becky pooh! Tina repeated, but it was no use. Becky had seen the funny side and tears of mirth (or was it madness?) rolled down her cheeks.

Becky, why don’t you leave that comment in the Reality Play you’re trying to do, for heavens sake, and get a grip first. You know it won’t make sense, and you won’t delete it, either, will you? Tina was firm. BECKY! Just hit send NOW!

The afternoon was hot, a bit moist and sticky too. Yurick and Yann were enjoying the freshness of Dory’s patio.
Cold lemon drink in cocktail glasses, the radio playing some sun related song.
Dan was out playing golf with friends and would be here for dinner.
Dory, dozing on her rocking chair had told Yurick and Yann that they could use their computers, they had 2 of them, so Yurick could take Dory’s and Yann could take Dan’s. Yurick was busy checking his mails and answering all those who had submitted some article for the next issue of their e-zine, and Yann wanted some distraction. He was just looking at some pictures on Gurgle, some movies on Yootune. Some of them were cracking him up, and he had difficulties keeping his face serious.
At the same time he was browsing through Dan’s pictures folders. Some of them were really amazing. Pictures of Dory on the field, with her pith helmet and her brushes, her shovels or even her pick. She was very funny looking when she was finding something seemingly out of nowhere, having dug all day long with no result and then finally some treasure! Often, Yann thought, it was only some fragment of a vase or some broken tool, but she always had this awe-inspired gaze

— What is the name of this singer again?, asked Yurick.
— You ask me?

The grin on Yurick’s face was all that Yann was waiting for. Yann had no memory of names of singers or actors. Their face, once he had seen it were recorded in his mind, but their name was like a summer breeze, refreshing, but soon forgotten. He knew that Yurick was more asking that to himself.

— Dunno me luv. You can ask the mummy in the living room if you want…
— Hahaha, graowl

Hehehe. Funny that, thought Yann. Coming back to the computer screen, his eyes fall on a strange folder name.
Patate? What’s that!?
Double-click.
Just a few files. Videos mainly. The names weren’t very evocative…
Yann picked one and waited for the movie to begin.
It was kind of black and white movie… the grain was gross and old fashioned. There was no audio.
Yann had an old memory of a similar movie seen on the comodor computer of his cousin’s parents… his cousin had told him about some weird movie he had found in a floppy disk of his father…
So, there was a man, maybe in his 60’s, he was wearing a gray bathing suit and was a bit hairy. Drinking some kind of grey cocktail.
A girl came in… with an amazing leopard baby-doll!!! from what Yann could see, she was blond and fleshy. Oh! and she had some friends. All of them with a leo-part on them

— Ahem! Yurick? Wanna see what I found?
— Hmmm
— I’m sure you’ll find some interest hahaha! Oh my Flove! She’s really doing it!?

Seeing his friend hilarious picked the curiosity of Yurick and he eventually came to see. The look on his face when he saw what was happening was too much for Yann who burst into laughter. That was enough to wake Dory who almost fell off her rocked chair.

— What is that? Where did you find that… thing? Dory looked offended, but soon she was blushing.
Oh! no… don’t look at that. It was a youthful mistake…

elikozoe began magpies
seems laughing key
finding love happy gabriele
bloody franiel creating dreams magic

START! said Tina.

Becky and Tina were doing a meditation together, and Becky decided to just write whatever popped into her head. She could always delete it afterwards, or edit it, she reasoned.

“Bagpush got out of the washtub”, Becky scribbled, “ And scooted down along the river line to the marks butty big one by the farm. Heavens above, fishly, what’s that brown thing on the water butt? Gawbsmacker said, don’t be talking like that, shekeltons in a hide to ho where and its first light, fair bright and hey ho the wash go. Abbon Ipswich, slaty flats of corncake, hey dee on the wash bucket, spittin in the hole hey down dooly. Margaret Apsworth laying on the white cotton cake spread, fair dooly down the one hooly. Ay and its a hey ho fair fooly down by the wash pooly, drum rolling in the har fool haley, down by the dash darnly. I said, hey ho the brown tooly, hoggin all the raw tooly, stewing in the far fooly for eight pence an hour. Said Mavis of the green sportwear, theres may flowers in the far horse hair, weel butter in the spar for tucker and muck down in the cow butter, said bree in the bird barny, a flying for the far fooly, well its knees up and out your dooly for the green hay beer fair. Its a fine night for a hooly in the row bottom in the far fooly, said mavis of the tom fooly, in the wash bucket down stairs. Once more, sell a nickel farthing, in the morning and in the darning, and say way more is in the star sign than a wash bucket down stairs.”

Good greif, exclaimed Becky, What was all that about?

What a load of twaddle, Becky, said Tina with a laugh.

Well you know what? It was kind of fun and refreshing to just write nonsense
I am sick of things MEANING something, Becky said, and then, warming to her subject:

Lets have some good old fashioned MEANINGLESSNESS!

She was feeling blank. It was as if she had no memories of what had happened before. At least she had still the notion that she was a she… wasn’t she? It wasn’t really clear, as she had mixed up feelings. There weren’t any physical sensation in the place she was. Indeed, she was having difficulties finding herself. She began to wonder what was this feeling of her she was aware of. To what was it connected? And thus, she realized she was too focused on the question itself to get any answer.
The letting go released a dam of sensations and informations. She was overwhelmed by all that she was and all that seemed to be thrust upon her senses. But the resistance was what could create pain, she knew that from another time where she was living the same thing. Resisting the communication was like wanting to resist a herd of fleeing raghlors.
She was feeling a presence in all this mess, something familiar
Was that herself looking at herself looking at herself looking at herself looking…
Her memory of what she was trying to do came as lightning. The sudden realization of her numerous tentatives at this exercise made her cry… would she fail again?
She had to find these other aspects of her, put them into a common direction… but there were so many of hers! which ones should she call to follow her? Which ones would follow her, if any? She felt sudden despair coming from everywhen. Despairs that she was aware did not belong to her, but they were powerful, almost annihilating her will. Images of massacres of people she knew, of people that her other selves knew, massacre that she had perpetrated herself or that she was perpetrating… any sensation of time could fit.

Despair was imprisoning her and she knew she already had failed because of that. It was shadowing her motivation, giving her that hollow sense of herself, shielding her from…

Asiir, is that you? The energy was familiar and the name was a translation in her mind. It was an anchor point in all these mess of hers.
Asiir, help me!

The feeling was faint, so far away. But as she was focusing more on it, she noticed her different selves were intrigued and gathering around it. And there they were together. A feeling of ecstasy filled her up… and out of her body herself was huge. The presence was gaining in intensity and it was as if it was her who was allowing Asiir’s energy to be expressed toward herself.

HAHAHAHAHA a thunderous laugh.
Startled for a moment she almost lost contact with Asiir. But their bond was stronger this time. She was filled with joy and self-assurance.

At last, you are beginning to understand, Lola. We can go on and take the next step now.

She was truly riding her dragon, , it was wondrous.

Well, technically you are lying on the floor of the marshes of doooom, but…

All of a sudden, everything was gone, she was back to her body, Asiir looking at her and nudging her left arm with her snout.
WOW, what a crippled body! How many times did she tried? Would he kill her with that, bloody bastard… a feeling of anger was infuriating her, and filling her body up, heating it up. How could he possibly be so inhuman?

May I recall you I’m a dead guy? and furthermore, my focus wasn’t human… I just appear human to your eyes because you want me to appear like that. You have no representation of how my species could look like, but I may show you…
… soon.

Franiel lifted the metal latch and pushed open the creaking door of the old shed. In the darkness he could make out of the shape of boxes and other various objects, then, as his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, he saw the motorbike propped up against the far wall.

What are you up to young man?

Franiel jumped and spun around. It was Lydia, just returned from her journey to the market.

Oh hello again! You startled me … Phoebe suggested I check out the motorbike, see if I can get it going.

Lydia looked grave. Did she now? Well it’s been many a long year since that piece of junk worked. Anyway so you’ve met Madame Chesterhope then, and what did you make of her? She was giving Franiel that deeply penetrating stare again. Franiel wondered kindly if perhaps she was shortsighted.

Oh very nice … and I met Vincentius the parrot too.

Lydia chuckled. Did you now?

Yes, actually Phoebe told me a rather unusual story.

At that Lydia broke into gales of laughter. Let me guess, about mixing the aura and the egg?

Yes, that’s right, replied Franiel, his face breaking into a smile too as he realised the absurdity of it.

Lydia wiped the tears of laughter from her face. ’Ere Lad, I told you things are not what they always seem. She thought for a moment. I’m parched from my long walk, I am going inside to make a brew. Why don’t you join me? If you are going to be stopping then there are a few things you need to know.

Is something bothering you Franiel? You look a bit perturbed.” Phoebe was watching him intently.

Oh sorry, yeah, I was just thinking about Aum Geog. I really should have sent him a message, you know about losing the chalice.

Phoebe looked thoughtful. Well we could send a message via one of the Fincheons if it would set your conscience at ease.

Fincheons? Those are those really beautiful silver birds aren’t they?

That’s right, they are spectacular aren’t they! I have a pair I use for sending messages on occasion.

Oh great! Franiel looked immensely relieved. I will go and write a note to him them. He won’t be happy though, I am fairly certain of that.

Although … silly me. Would you like to use the phone to call him? It would be much quicker. Honestly sometimes I think I am living in the dark ages, not 2008! chuckled Phoebe merrily.

Franiel laughed with her. Oh I know just what you mean!

Oh by the way, said Phoebe, there’s a motorbike in the garage. It hasn’t been used for years, but if you can get it going, you are most welcome to use it.

Oh what absoloote rubbish, giggled Elizabeth Tattler, taking another large sloorp from her 4th glass of red wine and putting large determined scribbles through the last chapter of the latest Noovel. It was the continuing saga of the Tifijikoo Island story. She really had to finish it, old whats-his-face was on the telepooh to her daily now, demanding to know when it was to be finished.

More Sex! he had shouted at her last time. More sex, we want the bloody thing to sell don’t we!

Well I have shut you up haven’t I, she snorted to herself, thinking happily of Dr Bronkelhampton passed out on the couch wearing a pink dress and mascara running down his face.

More sex eh? Hooommmm, Elizabeth did not particularly believe in putting extraneous sex in her noovels. At the same time that character Veranassessee was annoying her a bit with all her indecisiveness. And what a bloody mouthful that name was. Was it too late to change it? hooommm probably. She had modelled her roughly on the cleaner, Finnley, quite an attractive girl despite her pooty face and superior, bossy ways.

She vaguely remembered something a tutor at writing school had said to her once about writing sex scenes … what was his name? Emonel … no that was not quite right … Meenol! That was it!

Make your writing detailed, with accurate depiction of suction noises

Elizabeth broke into fits of laughter, slamming her fist on the desk gleefully and startling Robert X. (Unfortunately the fainting Mongoats had been banned from the building by that nasty Mr Arak)

You know Robbie-pooh what is wrong with this?

Robbie-Pooh, Robbie-Pooh, cackled Robert X.

IT’S BOORING, The damn characters never do anything. Right well, time to fix that. She took another few slugs of her wine.

Oh God, said Agent Gabriele. Who gives a shit about the Doctor or bloody magpies. I can’t stand this any longer. I must have you Agent V. He lunged towards her, ripping open her robe and exposing her naked body.

You are so beautiful. All I ever wanted is you. That’s why I demanded this assignment on the Island … to see you again. I have not been able to get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me crazy

NO NO, cried Veranassessee weakly, but her body said YES YES

YES!

Agent Gabriele kissed her on the mouth, making strange and passionate slurping noises, and, unable to resist any longer, she gave in to his need for her.

( Yes, Yes, YES! snorted Elizabeth, momentarily unable to write for laughing. Hooommm what about that Mahiliki? He was pathootic. Did he want the girl or not for God’s sake? )

Mahiliki stared anxiously out at the storm. He could think of nothing but his darling Veranassessee. He must know if she was alright. He must go to her. He grabbed his car keys and drove like a madman to the airport.

( Hoommm, thought Elizabeth, I really don’t know anything about small island airports and planes. Well booger that, I will research them later on the internoot )

You must fly me to Tifijikoo Island! demanded Mahiliki, holding the pilot (who had been sitting out the storm in a little airport building thingy ) at knifepoint.

Are you mad? said the pilot. There’s a freakin cyclone, or hadn’t you noticed?

Yes, I am mad, I am mad with love. Fly me there or you are a dead man.

ahahahaahah, laughed Elizabeth happily.

Already pregnant? ALREADY? Don’t be so soft, Becky laughed, punching Sam playfully on the arm. Then she frowned. What makes you say that, anyway? she asked suspiciously.

Before Sam had a chance to reply Becky clapped her hand to her mouth and froze. That man in the park!

“Actually, Sam said, you are already pregnant. I don’t know if you had realized it, but it is clear in your energy. You are creating a vortex entry point in your womb.”

He winked mischievously.

“It all seems to be about influence and suggestion these days, he added with a wink. Remember, you are playing with these probabilities not because you are a victim of them, but because they present an interest to you. And remember also that they would be all actualized by one of your probable selves nonetheless.”

Becky did the rolling eyes, and it seemed she wouldn’t stop when Sam burst into laughter and hugged her. He kissed her swiftly and said :

“You can call Sean now, he understands more about it than you realize.”

When Sam explained gently to Becky about the essences waiting for an entry point into this dimension, the ones that had chosen her, Becky, she was at a loss as to know what to think.

Well I don’t want to let them down, Sam, she said mournfully.

Sam laughed and said, You won’t be letting them down, silly. They’ll find another entry point. There’s no shortage of pregnant women in this dimension, you know.

But I feel like they’re mine already, Sam, I feel responsible for them now.

Laughing loudly, Sam reminded her that resposibility was her own core truth, and not an absolute one. Other essences are not your responsibility, you daft goose!

I know that, but I feel somehow connected to them now. I’ll always wonder about them, worry that they made a bad choice and chose a horrid entry point…her voice trailed off, and then she giggled. I’m talking absolute rubbish aren’t I?

Frankly, yes, dear, winked Sam. Anyway, aren’t you confusing two separate issues here, Becky? In the future probability that you viewed, Sean was a drunkard, and you had many children. They are not necessarily connected, you know. Sam winked again, and Becky blushed and whacked him over the head with the cushion she’d been clutching.

Oh stop! I haven’t even been on my honeymoon yet!

The wind howled. It screamed in fury. Cyclone Ycart in all its majestic glory was ripping over the island, screaming out its rage, like a demon swirling from hell.

The rain started.

Veranassessee shivered and cursed beneath the onslaught. Water saturated her long hair, plastered her thin cotton dress to her body and rain ran in rivulets down her face.

She looked wildly around, trying to suppress the hysteria rising in her chest. She screamed out their names, but her voice was carried away by the winds. Breathing roughly, she paused, drawing in a calming breath.

Then she saw them.

Goddamit!

She stared in bewilderment. She could barely believe what she was seeing. Mavis had been right when she nervously told her Sharon and Gloria were having a picnic on the beach. There they were like two beached whales, apparently oblivious to the waves lashing perilously close to them.

For a moment Veranassessee was sorely tempted to leave them to their fate.

Some interesting syncs:

Discussing the comment on Franiel and Vincentius with Francie, some things of interest:

F: hahaha i laughed at the egg bit
E: bit silly I reckon but somehow it synch’ed with two movies we’ve been watching yesterday
F: yes, good to have a bit of silly in our otherwise serious story
E: In one, there is that ghost girl who stalks her husband new love affair, and ends up speaking through a parrot
And the other, there is this shaman old woman who remote-views her people went on a quest, and ends up dying in stead of a girl, so that the young one lives…

F: oh that is like your plants in the courtyard dream too —just had a recollection of you saying one gave up its pot for the other one
E: Oh yes, true… Perhaps it’s just like a layering, like you do for strawberries, you use parts of the roots to do new plants…
“Layering is more complicated than taking cuttings, but has the advantage that the propagated portion can continue to receive water and nutrients from the parent plant while it is forming roots.”

E: “In air layering (or marcotting), the target region is wounded and then surrounded in a moisture-retaining wrapper such as sphagnum moss “

“Peat moss is also a critical element for growing mushrooms” that’ll make Tracy happy
“In New Zealand, care is taken during the harvesting of sphagnum moss”

F: “it can also be used as a substrate for tarantulas as it is easy to burrow into”

E: “Such Sphagnum bogs can also preserve human hair and clothing, one of the most noteworthy examples being Egtved Girl , Denmark”. Egg and B.C. sync

F: cool name, Egtved. Oh thats interesting about the Egtved girl: due to be public this month
E: oh, well spotted!
F: shall we all pop over and check it out
E: Ahahaha sure …

that is soooooo funny
I love this story