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  • #4078

    Barbara was glad to be done with the last guest tour. She still had the orangutans to feed before her day was done.

    “Hello darlings” she said to the caged beasts that looked eerily human. “Care for some fruits? Today’s coconut on the menu. Coconut oil is good for your hair.”

    Her intercom started to buzz. The last patient in the observation ward seemed to have failed the treatment. Another one. Her attention was needed.

    “Don’t worry, my little hairy friends. You may soon have some new friends…” She winked at the apes before closing the door.

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      NOTES FROM GROUP DISCUSSION:

      [unnamed protagonist] finds themself in a coma, but they don’t realize it. It’s like they’re in a dream state, moving through worlds, gradually discovering their past and what’s happening. The person knows that they’re trying to find their way home, which in reality is them trying to wake up.

      Once they remember their past and what happened leading up to the coma, they wake up…but remember nothing.

      So, as I was trying to structure this, I initially wanted the first book to be their normal waking life and the second book being the coma and the third book being post coma and relearning stuff. But then I figured it would be best to combine the first and second books.

      I wanted the reader to start out confused, just like they would be and gradually learn the back story as they went

      The only thing is, that would mean that this thread has to remain written as coming from their perspective

      we are all writing about ONE character essentially. obviously there are gonna be other characters, but the main thread is this one person

      feel free to incorporate any and all previous characters and locations from your other threads. The protagonist will be moving through them. So he/she finds themselves in these other worlds.

      They’re being swept up into an adventure right from the start without knowing a thing

      let’s drop them into the middle of something exciting

      It’s any time
      It’s a big dream
      In real life, the protagonist is in a coma right now

      But, also, you’ll have a lot of freedom to create those on the spot because neither you nor the reader nor the main character knows them until you write them

      The characters in this story won’t have too much staying power because the main character is moving through so many worlds. Nearly everyone is incidental,

      unless characters appear that are central to the main characters ongoing story, like a nurse for example or family

      At max, there might be two or three reoccurring characters that tend to pop in more often than not as helpers
      Oh, yeah, family from the back story would come in to play a lot

      #4071

      “Thanks,” said Bossy taking her cup of tea.

      “So, tell me more about this evil fruit-loop doctor,” said Ricardo with an encouraging smile.

      Bossy looked intently at him. “It’s no joke,” she admonished him sharply.

      “Oh, no. No, of course not. I mean, yeah, I really want to know. It all sounds very … intriguing. And sort of creepy, to be honest. But definitely not a joke.”

      Bossy relented and gestured imperatively for Ricardo to be seated.

      “The doctor could best be described as a mad genius. He believed he had found the answer to looking eternally youthful but didn’t want to go through the time and expense of clinical trials through the normal channels. So he set up a testing laboratory on a small and relatively unknown Pacific Island. Tifikijoo, I believe it was called.”

      “Uh huh. Actually I do vaguely remember something about that story.”

      “We got the story first,” Bossie said proudly, “but there was a media ban on publishing some of the information, unfortunately. The Doctor managed to get funding for his tests through an undercover organisation whose hidden agenda was to hide an ancient crystal skull while at the same time providing them with a facility where they could continue their own secret testing into spider genomes. I can’t tell you too much about that — it was all hush hush. So, you wouldn’t have read about that in the news, I bet,” she added with a smug smile.

      “Uh, no,” answered Ricardo, privately wondering if Bossy was the mad one. It was all starting to feel a bit surreal to him.

      “Did the doctor know about the skull stuff?”

      “No, the doctor was genuinely only interested in preserving beauty. Unfortunately, to this end, he killed one of his first guinea pigs. And tried to disguise his crime by mummifying the body. That’s when it all began to implode on him.”

      “What happened to him?”

      “He had some good lawyers and was found not competent to stand trial on the grounds of insanity. And the fact that all his clients had signed liability waivers helped a bit. He was sent to a high security psychiatric institution but managed to escape by reverting to his female identity—he was transsexual—and hiding in a laundry trolley.

      “The doctor hated the way he was portrayed in the media and most of his venom was focused on our people. We had a guy working with us then, John Smith, and he covered the story with Connie. They got the brunt of the hate emails. John nearly had a nervous breakdown with the stress of it and moved to the country. Pity, he was a good writer.”

      “So what makes you think Santa Claus and the doctor are one and the same?”

      “Call it a very strong hunch. The Doctor was born in Iceland and had strong family ties there. And now I fear he has lured Connie and Sophie there in order to exact his evil revenge!”

      #4069

      “Where the devil is everyone?”

      Miss Bossy Pants looked around the empty office with a mixture of disappointment and confusion. She had been anticipating the surprised looks on her colleagues’ faces at her unannounced return —she had no illusions about her popularity and knew better than to expect a joyous reunion—but the room was disconcertingly empty.

      Hearing the door behind her, she spun around in relief. It was the new guy, Prout, carrying a brown paper bag and a take out coffee.

      “Hello!” he said, hoping he did not sound as awkward as he felt and wondering if he could back out the door again. He had only met Bossy a couple of times and found her bluntness disconcerting. Terrifying, even. There was no reply, so, taking a sip of his steaming coffee, he bravely persevered.

      “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

      “Are you the only one here? Where is everyone?” snapped Bossy Pants.

      Ricardo took a deep breath and focused on a wilted pot plant on the window ledge.

      God, I hope I don’t start rambling.

      “Connie and the temp, Sophie, went to Iceland … something about following a lead from Santa Claus and I’ve not heard from them since. And Hilda … I don’t know where Hilda went to be honest. She emailed me a few days ago wanting to know what to feed Orangutans.”

      Bossy had paled. She seemed to shudder slightly and put out a hand to steady herself on a nearby desk.

      “They eat mostly fruit,” he continued, “but other stuff too of course. Insects and flowers and stuff like that. Honey I think, if they can find it I guess, and bark. And leaves. Mostly fruit though.”

      That’s probably enough about the Orangutans. She is clearly not into it.

      “I got a bit held up actually; there is a young boy outside drawing maps. Quite young … youngish. I am not sure how old really but he was little.They are bloody good too—there is quite a crowd out there watching him draw.”

      “Iceland,” whispered Bossy, her face a deathly white colour.

      “Yeah, Iceland. Keflavik … Miss Bossy, are you sure you are well enough to be back? You don’t look so good. I mean, you look good … attractive of course … I don’t mean you look bad or anything but you do look sort of pale. Are you okay?”

      “Santa Claus.” Bossy sat down slowly.

      “Yeah … I know, a bit crazy, right? They seemed to think it was a really hot lead.”

      “Stupid idiots; the lead wasn’t from Santa Claus— I will bet my life that it was from that depraved scoundrel, Dr Bronkelhampton! I heard through the grapevine he had gone to Iceland with a new identity after the Island fiasco destroyed his reputation—we covered the story at the time and it was huge—and now he is clearly after revenge. Dear God, what have they got themselves into?”

      #4068
      rmkreeg
      Participant

        View (yes, his name is “View”) exited his building and before he had a chance to see anything else in the world, there in front of him, plopped down in the middle of the street with a piece of paper and charcoal, was a little boy, apparently doing a rubbing of the pavement.

        View was immediately curious.

        “So, what are you doing, exactly?”

        The boy, slightly disgruntled, stopped what he was doing and looked up at View.

        “Well that’s an obsurd question. You’d think it was obvious. I’m creating a map.”

        “A map?!” View said, “How’s that? I don’t get it.”

        The boy turned back to his rubbing, filled the page, set another down right beside it and began rubbing again.

        “It’s the greatest map of it’s kind, exquisitely drawn up in perfect 1:1 scale.”

        #4052
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          “Did you have to make such a scene!” Yannosh hissed into the phone. “You were noticed!”

          The Indian butler looked furtively over his shoulder, but there was no sign of Mr Asparagus leaving the hotel bar yet.

          “Yes, yes, I know they’re calling it a dust devil but….”

          Hearing someone approaching Yannosh quickly pocketed the phone, but it was only the chambermaid, Finnbjörg.

          “Góðan dag herra, er allt í lagi?” she asked politely, and then added, ““क्या सब ठीक है? मैंने सुना है कि आप धूल शैतान का उल्लेख?”

          Yannosh was taken aback. How many languages did this island bumpkin speak?

          #4042

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            dream lack hardly beginning human
            situation making thought
            usually team water during run
            became suitcase under discussion
            listen energy reality himself

            #4041

            The meeting went surprisingly fast, it was almost disappointing.
            The Indian butler with the turban told Connie that Mr Asparagus went for a trip of unknown duration to some hidden getaway, and wouldn’t be available for further questioning.

            “That rude tart!” Connie fumed to herself, she had just been sent on another wild goose chase. Although the hidden getaway did seem intriguing, but she lacked the patience to quiz the help. She’d rather squeeze something violently, which she took as a cue to a prompt exit before further damage.

            “That guy looked suspicious” Ric managed to say as they were leaving.
            Connie’s brains wasn’t performing at peak form when she was getting angry, so she only managed to roll her eyes, thinking about how everyone looked suspiciously in need of a punch these days.
            “Yeah, he kind of looked Sikh, no big deal.”

            It was almost lunchtime. She tried to bip Hilda, but got her voice message saying she was on business trip. Again… That tart had the shortest attention span Connie had ever seen. Coupled with inexhaustible capacity at marveling at stuff, it made her quite good at her job, and seeing things always with a new angle.

            It was now official. She was depressed. That was a good tentative at stepping out of the comfort bubble today.
            Then, when she spotted a few Chinese housewives doing Chinese zumba in the park at the sound of a loud music, she thought…
            Maybe she had time to push it a little further.

            #4036

            Ricardo had finished cleaning the tea cups in the empty office. He liked the job alright, it was a bit silly of him to surmise people would clean their own cups, and do their own teas. That was what he’d meant with the team job comment.

            Connie and Hilda were right, totally right about it; he couldn’t expect too much, he’d just arrived, he was just a simple intern in a prestigious journalistic establishment. He’d come here to learn the tricks of the trade, when he’d answered the wanted: secretary and cleaner ad of last week.
            So far, there was only so much golden nuggets of weirdo news he could find. You’d need some serious training to get to the level of Hilda and Connie, the dynamic duo.

            For now, he was content to being put to menial tasks, it helped know the colleagues better, support them as he could with the pressure on the deadlines. And also, improving the typos and legibility by cleaning up the loose letters dropped during typesetting.
            His own headline baiting skill was still rather low —it was an art to create the perfectly sexyied up heading, not too tacky, but enticing enough to captivate the readership’s attention.
            If Hilda was the queen of headline fishing, Connie was undoubtedly the empress of headline baiting.

            #4035

            “Bird poo is good for your hair,” said Tina scathingly, once again reading Quentin’s thoughts. “When these little ones hatch… “ She trailed off, not feeling the need to elaborate further.

            :fleuron2:

            Meanwhile in another part of town (or possibly in another dimension … it is not clear to the writer at this point but the writer is determined to carry on regardless — the editorial staff can clean it up later), Miss Bossy Pants managed to crawl her way out of bed, just long enough to send an urgent message:

            Can’t possibly write today. One of you will need to do my contribution for the story. Thanks.

            She contemplated adding a smile emoticon but feeling such a strong urge to punch it in the face decided that it was extraneous.

            #4033
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Connie couldn’t stop thinking about that odd but intriguing man she’d interviewed who’d almost been crushed under a wheel of gouda. Possibly rescuing the worm from under the doormat was connected, or at least, had served as a reminder to her to think of an excuse to contact him again. His cat like agility was most appealing. As was his codpiece.

              #4027
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                In the fashion section of Rim of the Realm, Connie “Continuity” Brown was weaving the latest reports together.
                An unsavoury trend was gaining momentum in the meat factories to increase productivity: workers were wearing nappies to save wasting time visiting the lavatory.

                The trend was spreading to banks and offices, where high heels and codpieces were required, causing a spate of unusual injuries and accidents, especially since the equality laws came into force, requiring both men and women to wear both high heels and codpieces ~ and nappies, due to the removal of time wasting unproductive lavatories worldwide.

                #4021
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Somebody was eavesdropping on the lacklustre conversation between Anybody and Nobody, although, as surely Everybody would agree, it was hardly gripping.

                  Better an oft repeated literary predicament than no literature at all, remarked Somebody, to Nobody in particular.

                  Don’t look at me, retorted Nobody with a sniff. I am not just Anybody, you know.

                  #4018
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “Hasn’t Finnley woken up yet?” inquired Liz politely, but nobody heard her. They were all asleep. “Bloody time zone renegades.” She looked around the room at the snoring dribbling disheveled team. A plan to rouse them started forming in her mind.

                    #4014

                    That cackle again! Blue Bit Bea was at it again.
                    Ed just had time to recall some of the past clues, fresh from the shower head which had now turned into a big celadon turnip with electric wires.
                    He couldn’t still figure out what caused those surges and reality ripples. That was quite a discomfiture.

                    #4022

                    Final nail in the coffin, indeed.

                    Despite the overwhelmnity of the situation, Ed couldn’t fathom why nobody would take some time to stop and ponder on the incoherences, the gaps in the net, so to speak.

                    It behooved him to do so. The deranged cackler, like a mockery of the divine breath, ruling over the bizarro earth he had been sworn to protect — it had to be stopped.

                    But where was the elusive cackler hiding, he would seemed to appear anywhere and everywhere. And what to make of those cases of mistaken identities, or all the althreadnarrative-realities jumping. The occurrences were piling up. He couldn’t even seem to count on assembling his old fierce Surge Team. All gone bizarro too.

                    Pouring over his copious notes, he remembered how it all started. The strange case of Baked Bean Bea.
                    She seemed to have breached through, and quite frankly shattered in all likelihood some old reality limitation, and somehow, she now was able to unwittingly shape the world to new strange alternate realities at her every whims.

                    He painfully tried to recall, what he was, who he had been in the course of the last months. Blaze, his old genius inventor friend had left him some device, a transfocal whatever thingy. Usually it would change shapes as well, reconfigure itself with each realities. But its function was more or less the same. Reconnect him to his previous alternate realities. Which was handy, when you couldn’t even trust the notes you took. Obviously Bea wasn’t Baked Bean Bea before… or was she?

                    Now the Transfocal Thingy seemed to have relocated in the bathroom. The shower head with the wires seemed a bit of a giveaway.
                    Ed put on the water.

                    #4013

                    In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                    Edward Cayper had been absorbed on the mesmerizing display of the large monitoring screens. He’d liked to believe it was a meditation of sorts. The simulation made the most tantalizing displays, ever changing.

                    Although there had been flitches. Increasingly. He called them flitches, scratchy flea-like glitches, all small and jumpy, but he had an eye for them. He was, after all, one of the early designers of the Program. REYE – Reality Emergence Yielding Existence. That didn’t mean much, but sounded cool at the time.
                    REYE was in its eighth stable upgrade. Despite the flitches, it had evolved at exponential speed.

                    Edward swiveled from his chair to look behind his desk. A series of pods was lined up with sensory deprivation tanks hosting hundreds of plugged-in bodies dreaming in synch with his creation.
                    He’d been told they were volunteers to participate in the largest mind control experiment in the world. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t a lie, but didn’t care so much.
                    REYE was in charge of coordinating the whole program with astronomical and minute precision. Each person linked to the program believed they had become ascended (or something similarly close to their metaphysical belief). Free of the bonding of space, time and corporal existence, they were taught into a very subtle and complex system of attunement to higher truths. A large basket of bollocks of course, but while they were doing it, and deeply believing it to be real, the mind-energy they produced was redirected to certain mind control experiments.

                    Since they started in the 80s, the program had had slow progress. In the beginning, only a few sprouts of channellers appeared near their area, in Nevada. They were quite timid at first, full of doubts about their hearing or seeing voices – still better than the abductions of earlier, when many went completely nuts. But now, progresses were made steadily, and with much less effort. Edward personally believed that the network of waves created by cellphone proliferation had a factor in this trend. Such interconnexion made everything easier.

                    Within the program, the flitchy Ascended Masters still had to be reconditioned from time to time. On the vitals of Jane Pierce (a.a.a. “also avatared as” Dispersee within the program), Edward could see there were occasional resistance and stress, which in turn made the glitches more frequent. A change in her drugs dosage would do fine to level the serotonin in her bloodstream. It would be that, or unplugging her.

                    Before leaving the room, like every day, Edward switched the monitor to the camera over one of the pods. Florence Vengard (a.a.a. Floverley), was dreaming peacefully, as usual. Since she’d arrived, he’d felt connected to her. He imagined her with long curly red hair floating in the milk bath instead of the bath-cap that made the maintenance so much easier. He was told she had overdosed on pills, and wouldn’t wake up. The program seemed to be tethering her to life, frozen in time.

                    A well-oiled machine.
                    If you overlooked the small things… that REYE was becoming more inquisitive, and Edward suspected, greedy too. He had seen subtle gaps in the mind-energy gauges, it couldn’t be a coincidence. The program was becoming too smart, maybe too human.

                    It couldn’t bode well.

                    #4003

                    “You rang, madam?” asked the butler, adjusting his oversized blue turban.

                    “Ah, Lazuli! How are you settling in?” asked Liz.

                    “I’ve only just been written into this thread, madam, moments ago. Do I have to call you madam?”

                    “Only when you want to be rude, according to Finnley,” Liz said, glancing fondly at the unconscious cleaner.

                    “This thread appears to be going nowhere, madam,” Lazuli remarked thoughtfully.

                    “I can write Fanella into it if you like,” Liz quickly tried to entice him to stay.

                    Lazuli Galore’s eyes lit up. “Did somebody mention something about sexing the story up a bit?” he asked hopefully. “We’d be the perfect characters for that.”

                    “Well, if its ok with Finnley, it’s ok with me. If you can wake her, we can ask her now.”

                    #3996
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on July 01, 2010. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org

                      Dear FutureMe,
                      The Absinthe Cafe
                      Dawn and Mark had a bottle of Absinthe (the proper stuff with the WORMwood in
                      it, which is illegal in France) but forgot to bring it. Wandering around at
                      some point, we chanced upon a cafe called Absinthe. Sitting on the terrace, the
                      waitress came up and looked right at me and said “Oh you are booked to come here
                      tomorrow night!” and then said “Forget I said that”. Naturally that got our
                      attention. After we left Dawn spotted a kid with 2016 on the back of his T
                      shirt. We asked Arkandin about it and we have a concurrent group focus that does
                      meet in that cafe in 2016, including Britta. Dawn’s name is Isabelle Spencer,
                      Jib’s is Jennifer….
                      The Worm & The Suitcase
                      I borrowed Rachel’s big red suitcase for the trip and stuck a Time Bridgers
                      sticker on it, and joked before I left about the case disappearing to 2163. I
                      had an impulse to take a fig tree sapling for Eric and Jib, which did survive
                      the trip although it looked a little shocked at first. As Eric was repotting
                      it, we noticed a worm in the soil, and I said, Well, if the fig tree dies at
                      least you have the worm.
                      At Balzacs house on a bench in the garden there was a magazine lying there open
                      to an ad for Spain, which said “If you lose your suitcase it would be the best
                      thing because you would have to stay”.
                      Later we asked Arkandin and he said that there was something from the future
                      inserted into my suitcase. I went all through it wondering what it could be,
                      and then a couple of days ago Eric said that it was the WORM! because of the
                      WORMwood absinthe syncs, and worm hole etc. I just had a chat with Franci who
                      had a big worm sync a couple of days ago, she particularly noticed a very big
                      worm outside the second hand shop, and noted that she hadn’t seen a worm in ages
                      ~ which is also a sync, because there was a big second hand clothes shop next to
                      Dawn and Mark’s hotel that I went into looking for a bowler hat.
                      Arkandin said, by the way, that Jane did forget to mention the bowler hats in
                      OS7, those two guys on the balcony were indeed wearing bowler hats, and that
                      they were the same guys that were in my bedroom in the dream I had prior to
                      finding the Seth stuff ~ Elias and Patel.
                      Eric replied:

                      And another Time Bridger thing; a while ago, Jib and I had fun planting some TB stickers at random places in Paris (and some on a wooden gate at Jib’s hometown).
                      Those in Paris I remember were one at the waiting room of a big tech department store, and another on the huge “Bateaux Mouches” sign on the Pont de l’Alma (bridge, the one of Lady D. where there is a gilded replica of Lady Liberty’s flame).
                      I think there are pics of that on Jib’s or my flickr account somewhere.
                      When we were walking past this spot, Jib suddenly remembered the TB sticker — meanwhile, the sign which was quite clean before had been written all over, and had other stickers everywhere. We wondered whether it was still here, and there it was! It’s been something like 2 years… Kind of amazing to think it’s still there, and imagine all the people that may have seen it since!
                      ~~~~

                      The Flights

                      I wasn’t all that keen on flying and procrastinated for ages about the trip. I
                      flew with EASYjet, so it was nice to see the word EASY everywhere. I got on the
                      plane to find that they don’t allocate seats, and chose a seat right at the
                      front on the left. The head flight attendant was extremely playful for the
                      whole flight, constantly cracking up laughing and teasing the other flight
                      attendants, who would poke him and make him laugh during announcements so that
                      he kept having to put the phone down while he laughed. I spent the whole flight
                      laughing and catching his mischeivously twinking eye.
                      I asked Arkandin about him and he said his energy was superimposed. I got on
                      the flight to come home and was met on the plane by the same guy! I said
                      HELLO! It’s YOU again! Can I sit in the same seat and are you going to make me
                      laugh again” and he actually moved the person that was in my seat and said I
                      could sit there. Then he asked me about my book (about magic and Napolean). He
                      also said that all his flights all week had been delayed except the two that I
                      was on. He wanted to give me a card for frequent flyers but I told him I
                      usually flew without planes ~ that cracked him up ;))
                      ~~~

                      The Dream Bean

                      Eric cracked open a special big African bean that is supposed to enhance
                      dreams/lucidity so we all had a bit of it. The second night I remembered a
                      dream and it was a wonderful one.
                      (Coincidentally, on the flight home I read a few pages of my book and it just
                      happened to be about the council of five dragons and misuse of magical beans)
                      In the dream I had a companion with magical powers, who I presumed was Jib but
                      it was myself actually. It was a long adventure dream of being chased and
                      various adventures across the countryside, but there was no stress, it was all
                      great fun. Everytime things got a bit too close in the dream, I’d hold onto my
                      friend with magical powers, and we would elevate above the “adventure” and drop
                      down in another location out of immediate danger ~ although we were never
                      outside of the adventure, so to speak. At one point I wondered why my magical
                      freind didn’t just elevate us right up high and out of it completely, and
                      realized that we were in the adventure game on purpose for the fun of it, so why
                      would we remove ourselves completely from the adventure game.
                      In the dream I remember we were heading for Holland at one point, and then the
                      last part we were safely heading for Turkey…..
                      The other dream snapshot was “we are all working together on roof tiles” and
                      Arkandin had some interesting stuff to say about that one.
                      ~~~

                      There were alot of vampire imagery incidents starting with me asking Eric if he
                      slept in his garden tool box at night, and then the guy who shot out of a door
                      right next to Jib and Eric’s, in a bright orange T shirt, carrying a cardboard
                      coffin. He stopped for me to take a photo (and Arkandin said it was a Patel pop
                      in); then while walking through the outdoor food market someone was chopping a
                      crate up and a perfect wooden stake flew across the floor and landed at my feet.
                      The next vampire sync was a shop opposite Dawn and Mark’s hotel with 3 coffins
                      in the window (I went back to take a pic of the cello actually, didn’t even
                      notice the coffins). Inside the shop was an EAU DE NIL MOTOR SCOOTER Share, can
                      you beleive it, and a mummy, a stuffed raven, and a row of (Tardis) Red phone
                      boxes.
                      I had a nightmare last night that I couldn’t find any of my (nine) dogs; the
                      only ones I could find were the dead ones.
                      ~~~~

                      Balzac’s House

                      The trip to Balzac’s house was interesting, although in somewhat unexpected
                      ways. (Arkandin was Balzac and I was the cook/housekeeper) The house didn’t
                      seem “right” somehow to Mark and I and we decided that was probably because
                      other than the desk there was no furniture in it. Mark saw a black cat that
                      nobody else saw that was an Arkandin pop in (panther essence animal), and Dawn
                      felt that he was sitting on a chair, and Mark sat on him. (Arkandin said yes he
                      did sit on him ;) The kitchen was being used as an office. Jib felt the house
                      was too small, and picked up on a focus of his that rented the other part of the
                      house. (The house was one storey high on the side we entered, and two storeys
                      high from the road below). There were two pop ins there apparently, one with
                      long hair which is a connection to my friend Joy who was part of that group
                      focus, and I can’t recall anything about the other one. Dawn was picking up
                      that Balzac wasn’t too happy, and I was remembering the part in Cousin Bette
                      that infuriated me when I read it, where he goes on and on about how disgusting
                      it is for servants to expect their wages when their “betters” are in dire
                      straits. Arkandin confirmed that I didn’t get my wages.
                      The garden was enchanting and had a couple of sphinx statues and a dead pigeon ~
                      as well as the magazine with the suitcase and Spain imagery. Mark signed the
                      guest book “brought the cook back” and I replied “no cooking smells this time”.

                      #3986

                      Ed Steam was all but overwhelmed by the complexity of the situation.

                      He was up to his moustache in paperwork as he attempted to resolve the thread entanglement dilemma. At the same time he was striving to keep tabs on the various cacklers and manage the PR for the crowd gas experiments.

                      “What a jolly brouhaha,” he moaned.

                      “I am sorry to add to your woes,” said Evangeline cheerfully, “but there have been recent reports of a Cautacious Cackler cackling in various threads, although this may just be a typo for the Audacious Cackler or another strong possibility put forward by the experts is that the Cautacious Cackler has been confused for the Contumacious Cackler.“

                      She paused to see the effect this information was having on Ed, noting with pleasure the drops of sweat forming on his brow. She leaned over the desk and gently mopped them away with her handkerchief.

                      “And there have been unverified reports of a possible granite termitation on this thread,” she said softly.

                      It was too much for Ed.

                      “I want you to trace it back to when the first signs of entanglement began,” he screamed at Evangeline.

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