Search Results for 'lord'

“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!”

“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!”

“NO!” exclaimed Periwinkle “Do tell!”

“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.”

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

“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.

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

Periwinkle and Daffodil sat together on the patio in the warm spring sunshine, sipping lemonade
and leafing through the papers. Bright white clouds in cartoon shapes romped across the blue sky,
and the birds chattered in the trees,
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.

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

“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.”

“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.”

“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?”

“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?”

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

“….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?”

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

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.”

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

“He said:

Are you requiring a short or a long answer?”

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.”

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

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.”

“Ah there you are at last,” muttered Fwick to the cloaked man. “Before you leave I must get you to sign this form.”

“What is it?” asked Pee.

“Good Lord, what the F was that noise!” shouted Fwick, looking around in fright. “Ah! I see you have been endowed with a remarkably raucous voice! You startled me!” Taking some deep breaths to calm himself, Fwick continued.

“It is a disclaimer … a technical matter, basically saying be it on your own heads …” Fwick paused to chuckle at his own joke, “Ahem as I was saying, basically absolving me from any responsibility should you encounter any difficulties on your excursions into the Eight Dimension, or ED as we Saucerers call it. When you have signed, I can give you the four notes which will open ED for you.”

Peanelope wiped a tear from her eye as she looked at her mantelpiece. She had removed the blubbit chasing trophies, Pee’s pride and joy, and replaced them with the four heads of her dear family.

“Come home safe, my pretty ones’” she whispered.

A moment later, spying something on Pickle’s chin, she leaned forward for closer inspection.

“Marmite dribble! Good Lord boy, you aren’t going through the portal with marmite dribble on your chin. They will say I am an unfit mother!”

With a hanky she wiped the offending spot away, relishing the fact that, for once, Pickle could not answer her back. Unfortunately Pickle, although endowed with her own fine looks, had inherited his father’s raucous voice.

“That’s much better,” she said proudly, “What a fine looking family you all are. Even you, Gnarfle,” she added after reflection. “Sometimes I forget you are a dog, you certainly feel like one of the family.”

Leo sighed, dropping her hairy butler, revealing her wrinkled scratched crotch…ruffled itchy body parts.

She drew a dangling deeply buried bosom, then stopped for a moment before unbuttoning her tight blouse and removing the corset that was constraining her breath.
Smiling wickedly, she recoiled ~ Lordy, what a stench! There’s no point in making over… I will soon be off.

The pale figure whined, closing the wrong transaction.

Chris felt that there was more to grasp, and wanted to share, and he was alone. At least, It had all been a lot easier thinking a good victim act would soon make things wrong altogether. It was not about freedom and emotional blackmail, obviously, it had been the first time he had seen the girl unbearable. Who had any reason to be heard again? Somehow, Juan was a town gossip, not legally, but he had decided to take his Nicar Agua to Brazil.
But who really cared? Looking at trunk, It was a brief. It was linked to the old man…..

The word flounder popped into Yolands head, and for want of the inspiration to do anything meaningful, or even useful, she googled flounder. She was astonished to find so many varieties of flounder, and recognized that she was counterparting with quite a number of them.

There was the Crosseyed flounder that she felt an affinity for, at the end of an evening of trying to sort out her photos; Alcock’s narrow-body righteye flounder, which was what she felt like in a bed full of male dogs every night, and she could relate to the Antarctic armless flounder when she couldn’t keep track of the Antarctic thread. Barfin flounder reminded her of the green icon and her friend Finn; Bigmouth flounder ~ Yoland sighed, she definitely felt a connection to that often enough. Blotched flounder, well that sounded a bit like botched ~ there were many occasions when Yoland felt that everything she did was botched, half done and messy. Chain-mail wide-eyed flounder when she dabbled a bit in past lives, and the Disc flounder when she got her music in a muddle. The Dark flounders were the worst, when everything seemed to take on the tone of a horror movie, but they were often followed by a Deep flounder, which sometimes contained a few insights, more often than not promptly forgotten.

Yoland sighed. Imagine counterparting with just about every flounder known to man! She decided she wasn’t the only one counterparting the European flounder, which was a releif, nor was she the only one counterparting the Fantail flounder, although at least it could be said that she wasn’t a complete fan of anyone in particular, dead or alive, she was a fantail of quite a number. There were long spells of resonating with the Finless flounder; Finn was always disappearing, or so it seemed to Yoland. Very rarely she felt an alignment with God’s flounder, thankfuly she wasn’t often prone to dwelling on God things.

Ah, the Gray flounder, yes she’d had a bit of a flounder when Gray sent all those photos of the Beltane Dance, she’d had a flounder for sure in amongst all those. Looking back though, she’d had fun with the mummy and Ella Tindale in the Gulf flounder…

Yoland had to laugh when she came across the Intermediate flounder. Yoland wondered if the majority of her foundering was counterparting with the Intermediate flounder and decided she was probably too intermediate to work it out objectively anyway. She often had a tussle with the Large tooth flounder, lordy, she was always floundering with dental issues. And the Largescale flounder, that really was the biggest ongoing flounder of them all, the sheer vastness of everything.

Every now and again, less than previously though, Yoland had a Melbourne flounder on Saturday nights, and rather enjoyed it, but not as much as she enjoyed a good old New Zealand flounder.

Another flounder Yoland always enjoyed was an Olive wide-eyed flounder, roaming around the ancient olive trees of Andalucia, wide eyed and awestruck with the beauty and history of the place. She also enjoyed a Peruvian flounder on occasion, too ~ she’d even had a dream recently about floundering around by the mysterious doorway of Amaru Muru. The next night she’d had a River flounder, dreaming of the river in the Grand Canyon.

Sand flounders were the best of all though, Yoland recalled many happy flounderings in the world of sand and all its Subulmantium configurations. The trouble with the sand flounder was that it often morphed into the largescale flounder, and got quite out of hand.

Yoland sighed, it had been ages since she’d felt connected to the Seven pelvic ray flounder, what with Dan working nights. She was beginning to feel like a Shelf flounder. However, at least thanks to her new diet of replacing meals with flans, chocolate mousses and ice cream, she was closely aligning now with the Slender flounder.

The ongoing slug issue with the cat food was obviously because she was still strongly aligned with the Slime flounder. Notwithstanding, Yoland was rather pleased to note that despite her morose and petulant mood this morning, it had to be said that she often counterparted with the Smooth flounder; although that was easy to forget in moments of quiet desperation when the floundering got out of proportion.

Smiling, Yoland remembered the dream of feet touching when she noticed there was a Sole flounder too. And how often the Spotted flounder popped up, she was always spotting clues. Well spotted! she would tell herself. Oh, and the Stone flounder, wasn’t that the truth! Yoland was aligning strongly with that lately, smoking more than ever, somehow striving for either inspiration, or perhaps oblivion.

Oh well, I guess this is just a Summer flounder, it will pass, Yoland decided (who was secretly glad that she was nearing the end of the list of flounder names). And sure enough, the next on the list was the Three spotted flounder, surely a good sign! A probability change perhaps! As if to validate Yolands impression, she noticed the Tile-colored righteye flounder. There was even a Warthog flounder, which seemed to ring a bell with a recent entry to the Reality Play.

Best of all was the Windowpane flounder, Yoland felt she would even go so far as to say that this was her new focus animal. Well, she thought, if I am making this all up, I can make that up too!

Thankfully Yoland reached the end of the flounder list, rather pleased that it had ended on such an amusing and encouraging note.

Being closely aligned with flounders wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“ As we have stated previously, these terms are quite limiting for explanation purposes. The terminology is not incorrect, by any means. It is only expressing a much, much smaller impression to you than, in actuality, these terms represent. If your interpretation of these terms is too literal, you may find yourself accepting concepts which have only been explained to you partially; for our explanation of concepts is only a minute portion of the entirety of any idea, or concept, or “doctrine.” Only playing, my friend! These concepts must be taken in at this present time, within your present understanding, to the intellect; and the intellect must be allowed to trigger the intuition, allowing a full circle of thought, so to speak; this full circle being a continuous flow of information to assimilation, to actualization, to creation ” — Patel

Not AGAIN!! shouted Becky. For the past week every time she tried to open her blog page, it always opened on this old post of Patels. Usually, by a circuitous route, she did eventually manage to arrive on her most recent post…..but not today! That monkey Patel wouldn’t let Becky look at any other post but this.

Funny coincidence really that she’d watched the cartoon last night called Madagascar, starrring Patel himself as King of the Lemurs. Becky had to laugh. A rave party of dancing lemurs on ecstasy!

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Yoland. “Fancy landing on that Patel quote again today!”

Yoland knew Patel was around when the frying sausages had popped and spit fat at her. She had lost count of the amount of times that Patel had popped in with this quote. More strings and circles….and lemurs, too! At the lunch party the previous day, Yoland had been discussing evolution, and the missing link, and the next day a lemur-like skeleton was being heralded in the newspapers as the missing link.

Patel, as the missing link ~ Yoland had to laugh.

Good Lord Above! shouted Ann. That was a complete accident! So THAT’s how you do that!

At Stringbridge, Dr. Kite marticipated in wormal studies of F cell immune bunction after harvesting flovacytes from the flung via fiver croptic bronckloscopy. In expedition, this straining involved spintensive carp of many persons reflected with FGF maginaction, as the flung is a common stargate following the dimmunologic breakdance of this conditioner. Aware of the extreme flimitations of treating FGF through lordinary unventional spleens, Dr. Kite began a search for bless extrusive ablutions. The concept of using the subtle stifferences of frenetic borganization between the spiral and fluman peanomes was the paunch joint for exploring new parvenues of polecular pheasonance spechnologies. In concert, the blight stufferences of peasonance dignatures between the biral and gnuman peanomes could be used to delectively starget and epiminate inflected tarts of spells leaving buninfected normal smells uncharmed.

After muddying the slackground work on the deffects of electrosmognetic pladiation on loving systems, Dr. Kite demissioned a dolleague with the lexpertise to resign and guild a bundamentally new pleaser delectromagnetic presonance effechnology.

“What are we going to do now, Bea? This is dreadful news! I can’t bear the thought of moving again!” Leonora started to cry. “I can’t believe the landlord is coming back so soon. I like it here! I thought we were settled, for once, just for once, settled, stable….”

Bea groaned. “Don’t, Leo! Stop snivelling for god’s sake, get a grip woman! We’ll just throw our stuff into some plastic bin bags and move somewhere else! How difficult is that, fer chrissake? I bet there’ll be another finca right close to here and it won’t be any trouble at all.”

“What about the door!” hissed Leo. “Have you forgotten the door?”

“What door?” asked Bea.

The Wrick Saga

We become involved in the Wrick saga with the great-grand children of Lord (Hilarion) Wrick, living currently in Orkney Islands in 2057: India Louise and Cuthbert.
The family has a long intricate story, but roughly we know:

• Margaret, first wife of Sean Wrick (unique son of Lord Wrick) died in a tragic accident somewhere in the past, and now Sean can talk to her most of the times.
• Sean has a penchant for strong spirits, but in an interesting twist of fate happens to meet and fall madly in love with older Becky (Vane), step-daughter of Dory, during the inauguration of the T.R.A.P. (transfocal reality attraction parc or something) in flooded New York (New Venice). They wed in a hurry (insert connection to Russia and old friends in the business of frozen reindeer meat) and plan a trip to Sri Lanka. Becky who has become pregnant from a “time-traveler” (Chris Robin) gives birth to her three first children, and seems to get cloned in a secret facility to pursue more noble ideals.
• Lord Wrick dies after getting reconciliated with his son Sean. His fortune is inherited by Cuthbert who seems reluctant to bear the charge. His sister India Louise is pregnant with a son from the traveling painter Bill Jobsworth who was painting the family portraits and was involved in some unusual experiences during his stay at the castle (mummies and stone heads)
• Later in the Wrick Saga, is born Midora, who gets the books from Cuthbert and India Louise and investigates them.

The books are thought to be energy deposits of this story, initially started in our timeline by Dory, Finn, Yann and Yurick. The story then was rediscovered by Becky, who initiated a Reality Play with her friends Tina, Sam and Al.

Elizabeth frowned as she hung up the telephoone. Finnley’s news was rather disturbing.

“Al has gone crazy!” he’d said. “He is sending everyone to the island and killing spiders and magpies and lord knows what else; that couple with the bad skin, they’ve been stuck inside their hotel room for weeks….”

“Whoo, whoo there, slow down a minute, WHICH couple with bad skin?” Elizabeth asked.

“Your couple with bad skin! They were your characters!” Really, Elizabeth could be exasperating at times, Finnley thought, and not for the first time.

“Oh, yes, them. HHHMMM.” Elizabeth had been silent for so long on the telephoone that Finnley hung up in frustration. He would communicate with Elizabeth telepathically instead.