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  • #776

    Bea was drifting off to sleep on the patio, the gentle spring warm on her face. A stork glided past, and she noticed the first amethyst wisteria blossom against the blue sky. Dreamily, she heard a limerick forming in her mind:

    There was an old crone called Wisteria
    Who was prone to bouts of hysteria.
    She fretted and flapped
    Til her energy sapped,
    And then she made friends with Deliria.

    The crone called Deliria hailed from
    The unsettled realms of the maelstrom;
    But she learned how to float
    With the help of a goat
    And considered it was quite a brainstorm.

    When Wisteria met with Deliria
    She said “My! but you seem so familiar!
    I admire your hat
    So let’s have a chat
    About goat floating maelstrom criteria”

    #773

    On his way to work, Yann was singing. These last few days had been harsh to his self appreciation process, he had lots of judgments against everything he was doing. He had found it quite exhausting and quite detrimental to his relationships with his friends.

    Well, despite the fact that Archibald puppet had told him about his bucket… or his garbage he couldn’t remember, and not to forget to empty it regularly, he had been submerged with stimuli from everywhere and from everybody, to the point that he wouldn’t allow a single smile inside himself.

    Yesterday, they had received their furniture with Yurick, and in the process of assembling them and putting them into place, rearranging the configuration of the apartment, he found himself appreciating of his new home.
    When he woke up that night, it was 5:12am. He couldn’t sleep, and he wouldn’t wake Yurick up. He had noticed several times that he had many associations with this hour of the day… like a burden, a new day of work soon approaching all that crap again and so on…

    All he had to do was just… yes like that, he was appreciating his own being. Himself lying in the bed, the breathing movement of his friend beside him, still and relaxed.

    When the alarm clock was about to ring himself out of the bed, he was already awoken and he cut it off before it could awake his beloved. It was 7:57am.
    On his way to the bathroom, Arona the cat was quite demanding of caresses… he took some time and appreciated deeply the contact of her soft fur, long and warm silky hairs.

    Thus, Yann was singing, and when he arrived at the crossroad just before his workplace, there was that man… and their gaze met surreptitiously. And the man started singing. Yann smiled.

    #1907
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Googled rainbow snake and found Ezili Danto and her daughter Anais

      Ezili Danto loves dolls. People often give her dolls as gifts ….. She is the most perfect mother one could wish to have….. Anais often serves as Ezili Danto’s translator and interpreter.

      Haitian Vodou:

      Danbala, the patriarchal serpent divinity, is an ancient water spirit associated with rain, wisdom, and fertility. He is usually entwined with his wife Ayida Wedo, the rainbow. Danbala is often represented as St. Patrick (who mastered the serpents of Ireland), and sometimes as the patriarchal Moses holding the Ten Commandments. In many temples, a permanent basin of water is maintained for this lwa. Many representations include Danbala’s main sacrificial food— an egg .

      #1724

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      EricEric
      Keymaster

        These are quite interesting… The retelling story feels particularly fit, especially considering The Story so Far threads :face-grin:
        I also wasn’t aware of the CK(Conductive Keratoplasty) corrective eye surgery with sounds rather than laser methods… :-?

        But I didn’t come for that, actually. ;))
        I was browsing something totally unrelated, and found a news about the plot of Toy Story 3 revealed by the Wall Street Journal (ref). Something got my attention obviously, when I saw Circle 7 a division of Disney who worked on the previous Toy Story movies before acquisition of Pixar…

        #761

        So then, said Franiel sitting down beside a small mound of earth, what now?

        The top of the mound of earth was smoothed flat, and with a twig Franiel began to form small spiral patterns abstractedly in the earth. He felt no desire to go back to the monastery and face Aum Geog with the news of the loss.

        He held the twig high, and then released it to fall to the ground. It fell without sound, landed unharmed on the mound of earth. He closed his eyes and in the dark at the back of his mind, he heard the voice of his grandmother whisper; Spirals make more sense than crosses Franiel my boy, joys more than sorrows.

        Spirals make more sense than crosses….

        None of it made much sense to Franiel. The feeling of freedom he felt momentarily slipped away. He was left looking at the space where it had been, feeling empty. The task given him by Aum Geog had given him a feeling of purpose, for a short time had allowed him to forget how lost he felt. Yet now the task had been taken from him, and he was in no hurry to retrieve it, he saw it for the illusion it had been.

        What would it feel like to want to go somewhere? Or to want to be something, to want to be a monk, to want to be a teacher, to want to be the father of a family? To be able to arrange oneself neatly in a box and say I belong here?

        Spirals make more sense than crosses …. day becomes night becomes day, lives come into being, and go out of being … there is always new life coming into being …… around and around

        He began to walk along the path, away from where he had already been …. towards something new? He caught sight of a dead blackbird lying in the long grass to the side of the track and knelt down to look at it.

        It is quiet and still.

        He dug a hole, scraping in the dirt with his fingers and then using a stone to lever the lifeless body into the hole. The bird’s brown eyes are still open. Franiel covered it with dirt, looking deep into it’s eyes, until there is no sign of it, just a mound of earth.

        He traced a spiral in the dirt.

        Joys more than sorrows…

        He sat back on his heels, and keeping his mind empty, he sang to the dead bird.

        #1718

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          A sort of Foriegnors in Scotland Sync, although in reverse, as it were…..more like ‘Scots Abroad’…

          My (Scottish) friend in Madrid invited me up for the weekend next month. Janet speaks Spancottish, a sort of Iberian-Celtic patois….(not to be confused with Spancrottishce, which is, of course, something completely different)

          Is this a half sync, a reverse sync, or a reverse drop twisted three quarter sync?

          #2133

          In reply to: Snooteries

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            The ancients of Kuzhebar knew
            How to travel through time, it’s true
            But that’s nothing new
            Limited to a few
            It’s something that all of us do

            #756

            Franiel awoke, it took him a few moments to get his bearings. He stretched, and slowly adjusted to his waking state. He wondered how long he had slept, it was quiet and dark. Although he couldn’t see much, he could feel that dawn was not far away. The ghost hour.

            He must have slept for hours.

            Remembering Leonard he looked around and softly called out. There was no reply, and unless Leonard was sleeping, Franiel was alone. “Aye” he sighed, and finding the blanket from his pack, fashioned it into a tent over his head and took shelter in it. It was nearly day, another day.

            Thinking of his encounter with Leonard, the strange dancing and especially the sweet taste of the nectar, Franiel reached into his pack again to retrieve the chalice.

            It is no longer there

            Franiel was not quite sure if he heard a voice utter these words, or if it was just a strange sense of knowing. He still felt around, taking out each item carefully and methodically, emptying the pack, not really wanting to believe the chalice has gone, nor to consider what the implications of this loss might be.

            Perhaps he did not put the chalice back in the pack after all? He crawled around his surrounds, squinting into the half light of the morning, feeling the dew damp ground. Deciding to trust what he knew in his heart already he sat back and quietly watched as the sky eventually flushed brilliant crimson.

            Red sky in the morning. A warning ….it is only weather words but ….

            Reluctant to consider his options, he instead considered some dandelions, how luminous they looked in the morning light.

            #755

            — “Sha! I think I’ve had one of them bloody brainwaves of mine!”

            — “You are the smart one Glor … ‘ang on, I’ll just light my fag then I can listen proper.”

            — “Well you know how Vessie has been so good to us and I still feel a bit awful about breaking that bloody door down.”

            — “We meant well though Glor. Our hearts were in the right places.”

            — “They were Sha … but then her bloke being there and all …. well that dress she was wearing Sha, it barely covered her privates.”

            — “She’s a native girl though Glor,” Sharon giggled, “She’d have grown up wearing them little grass skirts and not much else I reckon …. mind she’s ever so nice though ain’t she.”

            — “Oh she is …. and there’s nowhere to buy clothes on this bloody island neither, she must have to make do, bless ‘er little ‘eart.”

            — “It could do with a mall I reckon Glor,” said Sharon reflectively, “this place would really take off if there was a small mall.”

            — “I think you’re onto something there Sha, oh that would be bloody marvellous I reckon, a small mall.”

            — “Anyway what’s your brainwave then Sha? I’m all agog with curiousness.”

            — “Well I reckon with all the eating and lying around we’ve been doing I’ve gained a bit…. what do you reckon Sha?”

            — “You might have done a bit Glor,” said Sharon eyeing her friend thoughtfully, “you can carry a bit extra though, and it goes to all the right places on you, you look right sexy, I reckon our Harry would think so anyway”

            — “Oh give over Sha! “ Gloria blushed and giggled. “Anyway back to my brainwave … well that Vessie is quite slim … “

            — “A bit on the skinny side really, Glor, needs a bit of meat on them bones of ‘ers to be what you would call proper sexy like us, and very tall with it ain’t she.”

            — “Yes athletical, most of them island girls are I reckon. Anyway, listen up Sha, a few of my things ain’t been fitting so well and …and ‘ere’s my master plan Sha …Da da ….” she paused dramatically, “I thought I could hunt out something nice for Vessie!”

            — “Oh that’s bloody genius Glor! you’ve got a real kind heart you ‘ave! You’re a bloody saint even … did you ‘ave something special in mind?”

            — “Did I what Sha!” Gloria’s eyes were shining with delight at her own generosity. “You remember that pink frock, the one I wore when you and Harry got ‘itched, with the wee roses on it. Well I bought it with me! I thought you daft fool! when I packed it, what you taking that bloody thing for? … I reckon it was my psychic abilities I got ‘anded down from my Aunty Philly, God rest her soul, made me bring it.”

            — “Oh you’ve still got that frock! That were bloody gorgeous …. well bless your bloody heart Glor!”

            — “Well its got sentimentical value of course,” said Glor looking serious. Her voice lowered, “ Between you and me though Sha, I do feel for that poor girl. I mean she’s pretty enough .. but she’s got no bloody idea how to make the best of what she’s got. It’d be a bit on the short side mind …. but I don’t think she’d mind that, not if that last dress is anything to go by, and I’m right handy with the needle and thread if it needs any fixing” she paused for a moment thinking, “Sha! I think I’ve ‘ad another bloody brainwave! We could give her a full beauty makeover, the bloody works, with all our beauty know-how … that lippy she was wearing ..” her voice trailed off and she shook her head sadly.

            — “Wrong shade of red weren’t it,” Sharon nodded understandingly. “She’s going to have to make a bit more effort if she’s to keep that bloke of hers.”

            — “Well I’ll ‘ave him any day,” giggled Gloria

            — “Oh you’re bloody wicked, you are Glor! If your Joe could ‘ear you now! …. ‘ere you’ll ‘ave to fight me for ‘im though! … ere,” she said looking around and lowering her voice conspiratorily, “maybe we could have one of them threesomes!”

            — “Oh stop Sha, you’re too bloody much you are!” spluttered Gloria, barely able to control her mirth. “Serious now though Sha, that Vessie might be a bit overcome and shy like, with all our generousness and kindheartedness, we have to make sure she knows we ain’t taking NO for a bloody answer!”

            #1899
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              The wolf in Cuthberts dream came from the Dreaming Methods bulletin received yesterday. Dreaming Methods is the website connected to Bill Johnson ( Bill Jobsworth connection in the story; the itinerant artist), the Yorkshire stone head carver.

              #752
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                India Louise , standing in the draughty upstairs hallway outside Bill the artist’s bedroom, jumped out of her skin as Nanny Gibbon rushed down from her room on the third floor shouting, OCH AYE THE NOO! There’s a moose loose aboot the hoose!

                Nanny Gibbon stopped abruptly when she saw India Louise.

                Och, lassie, and what are you doing here in the wee hours of the night?

                Er…..India had to think quickly. She couldn’t tell Nanny that she was hoping to tell Bill about the mummy that she and Eugenia had found in the unlocked ‘Locked Room’, so she said: There was a moose in my room! It went that way! she said, pointing up the stairs from which Nanny Gibbon had just descended.

                OCH! The hoose is infested with moose! What’ll we doooo?

                India Louise looked up at Nanny Gibbon quizzically. What was with all the ‘Och Aye’s’? Nanny was from Brittany, not Glasgow, what was the matter with her? Then India recalled the Scottish Dialect classes that Nanny had been attending…..obviously with a good deal of success.

                The truth was that Nanny Gibbon was terrified of mice (which is how non-Scots pronounce moose); she suspected a reincarnational drama involving moose, er, mice, was the root of it all.

                India was trying to think of something helpful to say (and congratulating herself on her quick thinking, although she regretted adding to Nanny’s alarm) when a shriek came from the direction of Cuthbert’s bedroom.

                Nanny and India Louise raced along the corridor and banged on Cuthbert’s door.

                OCH AYE, what NOO? Are ye alright, ma wee bairn? Open the dooor, Cuthbert! Nanny cried.

                A pale trembling Cuthbert opened the door. I had an awful nightmare! I was reading our book, you know, the funny one with the blank pages, and I turned into a wolf

                Och, there, there, ma wee laddie, there’s nay a wolf in the hoose, it’s a moose!

                Cuthbert looked up at Nanny and said, rather rudely, Are you alright? Why are you talking like that?

                #750
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  I take it from that you don’t know where the wedding dress is currently. Well if you do come across it would you mind letting Felicity know. said Tina haughtily, switching the phone off abruptly.

                  Al’s words running through her head she started walking quickly nowhere in particular.

                  Tina, what’s the point of these experiments we have been doing with Becky and Sam if you are going to keep relying on the phone all the time? And why are you trying to sort out the dress for Felicity, it isn’t your problem.

                  It wasn’t the so much the words which had stung, after all he was right, it was the annoyance she thought she had heard in his voice.

                  She felt him making contact, quickly blocked, feeling too hurt to be open.

                  She knew he was tired, god knows he had put so much into the wedding preparations, as he did with all his projects. He was fast building a reputation for his ground breaking experiments with body processes. Tina loved Al whatever he looked like, which was just as well really considering some of the rather bizarre effects he managed to produce.

                  Becky had been a bit irritated with her as well, Tina you are so last decade, nay century even! she would say, rolling her large eyes dramatically. Becky too was racing confidently and exuberantly ahead. Her intriguing contributions to the reality play never failed to amaze Tina. Her own contributions felt stolid, words trapped in a big gluggy ball of last century energy, she had to work hard to extricate each one.

                  It was nearly dark, raining harder now, wind-driven rain. Tina liked it, the rain complemented her mood and disguised the self-pitying tears streaming down her face. There were very few people in the street. Just the long line of shop windows, glass faces warmly lit, overhangs offering some shelter from the rain, though it wasn’t shelter Tina was looking for.

                  Her long hair whipped around her face, wet blue satin clung to her slim frame.

                  Sam had taken off unexpectedly and suddenly to Australia. He had been gone only a few days and she missed him. Dear Sam, his wicked and irrepressible sense of humour could make her laugh even in the blackest of moods. He too was playing with new potentials, forging new and exciting paths.

                  The others are probably all communicating with their advanced telepathic skills right now, laughing at dumb old last century Tina, she thought morosely. In fact even last century I would have been so last century, judging by my spectacular lack of success at anything I have undertaken recently. A vision of her recent humiliation in the ballet dancing class sprang to mind. She winced and quickly blocked the distressing image of the dance teacher drawing her aside after class and gently suggesting she might try the Ancient Kuzhebar Motional Practices beginner’s class, to get some basic rhythm, before attempting the ballet. ….

                  An elderly woman who had disembarked at the nearby gondola stop splashed by her, and, illuminated momentarily by the street lamp, Tina felt a flash of recognition. The woman turned suddenly towards her, smiled, gesticulated with her free hand, the other was clutching a large bag, towards some distant bushes. She mouthed some words at Tina, but these were lost in the wind. Tina waved and managed a reciprocal smile.

                  She noticed a Positivity Robot parked in front of Samantha Lingerie, and found herself drawn towards it, 3D images of models wearing the latest in underwear fashions rotated in the shop’s window, their faces beaming irritatingly at her. These Positivity Robots had been all the rage in the early 2020’s, you did not see as many of them now. On impulse she stood in front of the robot, touched the screen, allowing it to read her energy. “negative 21” its glass face discreetly informed her. The words “I AM PERFECT flashed up on the screen as a suggested thought pattern to implement. Tina grimaced. I wonder how low I can make this damn thing go. The idea made her giggle and to her alarm shot the meter up to a positive 12. Bugger, a bad start!

                  What am I going to do with myself, Mr PR, if you are so positively smart?

                  I AM PERFECT…. I AM PERFECT …. I AM PERFECT ….

                  perfectly grumpy, perfectly insecure, perfectly last decade, perfectly soaked to the skin, Tina watched as the meter climbed all the way up to 55.

                  She glanced at the shop window, just as a smiling model wearing a minuscule open net dress and nun’s habit rotated by. She felt an inexplicable burst of amusement as the meter climbed to 57.

                  #749

                  Malika and her dog Leo stood at the entrance of the cave and was so excited to see the little draggies, she screamed with joy… and sent such loving, tender energy into the cave that all the little draggies came out to play with her and Leo, and familiarize themselves with each other. There was a mother dragon that resided inside the cave and as Malvina put her head inside the entrance, she was met with a smile, from the mother of whom was sitting atop a purplish egg.

                  The Mother Dragon introduced herself as Glordieoun…and said, softly, that this cave was a portal to her world, and a birthing chamber for all mother dragons, that were to be stationed there. It was a pregnancy chamber, a hatching chamber and a childcare chamber, that served the little draggies until they were able to fly themselves, and all the other attributes were in place, for them to be independent.

                  Glordieoun, said, that she was a bit tired and required some rest, but that she was glad that Malika finally found her way to the house, as her and all her people, knew they were now in safe and caring hands.

                  #746

                  My God, what the fuck is that?

                  Veranassessee sighed, seeing the two plump lady on top of one another, lying sprawled all fours on the ground, with the door blown out in shards.

                  Untie me Gabriele, so that I can ask for the nurse’s help. she said reluctantly to her partner, seeing with a bit of dolefulness, the effect of their strange erotic games already waning off.

                  — Are you alright ladies?
                  — Oh, I guess so, Vessie, sorry to have interrupted, we thought…
                  — Yes, yes… Veranassessee was feeling oddly detached from the women’s babbled and muddled excuses, and even more detached from her own sloppy appearance.
                  All she could think at the moment was that she seemed fated to marry Mahiliki, and get loads of children on Fukitupi, a doom that hovered on her head like a rapacious magpie over a precious gemstone…
                  Good thing she was so gorgeous she would look great even wearing a potatoes sack. Sure Gabriele had noticed that already…

                  Arch-Agent Gabriele came back, telling her he had called nurse Bellamy on the intercom, and she would be here in a minute.
                  I’ll go to my room dear, we’ll talk later about Barbella. he said casually, a convenient code for “plan B” between them two.
                  Professional as he was, he had also, V’ass noticed, as the women were untangling themselves, made the box and the silky rope very stealthily disappear.

                  Sure, they would have more time in the evening. But now, she noticed she’d been a bit too lax on the security around the new guests. Fine that Dr Bronkelhampton’s recommendations were to have the patients free for the first months of their treatments (after all, the more drastic transformations never occurred before the thirteenth week), but she had to be more careful about them.
                  She could not have them compromise “plan B”.

                  B as Barbella… or rather…
                  B as Bee-hive.

                  :fleuron:

                  — Did you hear like me, Glo?
                  — I think so, Sha
                  — What’s that Barbiella, Glo?
                  — Barbella, Sha, barbella, like barbell… Could be a woman’s name…
                  — Poor Vessie seemed so annoyed by the incident…
                  — Yes Sha, we have to help her somewhat, if we want her to forgive us
                  — Sure, we’ll find something to do, Glo.
                  — Yes… I don’t like that Barbella. Perhaps it’s the man’s…
                  Gabriele
                  — Yes, Sha, Gabriele —does sound Italian, doesn’t it?
                  — I was about to tell you Glo
                  — Perhaps that’s Gabriele’s wife…
                  — Or some kinky sadomasochistic practice we never heard of…
                  — Rhooo, Sha, chuckled Gloria, who was thinking of Veranassessee’s dress and wrists tying games…

                  #743
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    Al woke up from a series of lucid dreams, interspersed with false awakening in which he was in the same space arrangement, but visibly another time space or even dimension… He was quite familiar now with these stuff, and could remember them well, but still had doubt about the implications of the strange imageries he was getting glimpses of.
                    It was like his tatami (because at this time, Al was finding more comfortable to sleep on the rice-straw mattress) was a flying carpet with its own volition, and Albert, like some modern-time Aladdin, was finding himself plunged right into new horizons.

                    Last vision had almost made him blush of the deranged aspects of his mind. Sure he was finding Becky rather attractive (who wouldn’t, he was wondering), but imaging her scantily clad in that skimpy dress in the middle of the bushes was surely some trick of his luscious mind rather than some bona fide connection of his magic tatami.

                    Good thing too that the joggers (or thought-forms, whatever they might have been) in the park in which the magic tatami had landed couldn’t see the projected form of Al, because he was unable to move right now, except for some embarrassing lower part of his body. Now the tatami was looking like a circus tent. Oh dear… the wedding had been really hard on his nerves, he reckoned.

                    When he finally woke up, he noticed some voice messages on his telephone from Becky and thought he would probably skip mentioning his last synchronicity of his :yahoo_whistling:
                    What was she wanting that necessitated a dozen messages on his phone? Couldn’t she just call Sean, or was he still incapacitated by the gallons of vodka he had “injested”?
                    Well, surely the matter would wait for him to shave, for he was starting to look like Mr Cavern, with the huge hunger too —he smiled at the idea that dear Becky would surely fear he might eat a clue by mistake…

                    :fleuron:

                    Moments later, after a good shower, fresh clothes and some slices of buttered nuts bread with pumpkin jam, he telepathically connected to Becky, wondering why she had not thought of that method in the first place… What was the point of all these group meditations together with Sam and Tina if they couldn’t make good profit of the enhanced neurological pathways they had built together. Granted Becky had always been a bit reluctant to use it, or perhaps just forgetful of that possibility… Anyway…

                    CAN’T YOU JUST KNOCK BEFORE YOU CONNECT! a shriek suddenly filled his skull

                    Al immediately shut the visual, blushing of the renewed deranged vision…

                    — Sorry, I just…
                    — Oh, no need to trail forever on that… I’ve found someone to help me, and yes, I do remember how to connect telepathically!

                    With that, all was left in Al’s skull was a big whooshing wind.

                    #739

                    Vessie Darl, Sha and I are just popping down to the beach for some more of them special beauty sea waters you told us about.

                    Great idea, Gloria, responded Veranassessee vaguely. She watched absent-mindedly as Gloria’s generous body, clad only in a skimpy red bikini, disappeared down the corridor. There was something about that shade of red tugging at her memory. Vermillion red …

                    Red! PLAN B! Oh my God! how could she have forgotten!

                    It was two days since she had called him, that meant he would be here soon, that did not leave her much time to prepare.

                    :fleuron:

                    Everything has to be perfect. She wears a silk vermillion red camisole, the one he gave her, scarcely covered by lush black velvet and topped with bright red lipstick. She casts her eyes critically around the room. It is nearly three years since she has seen him, she doesn’t want to spoil this moment. The glasses of soft red merlot are ready, a plate of miniature liqueur chocolates on a plate by the bed.

                    She shakes out her long dark hair and looks in the mirror. Her chocolate skin glows, her eyes are bright. She will do. She touches the red silk camisole … it is still beyond her comprehension how she can have forgotten.

                    When he arrives he is beautiful. Too beautiful. she thinks. It is so easy for him, effortless. He appraises the room and laughs casually, he knows how hard she has tried. Agent V he says, a pleasure to see you again. He kisses her. She remembers everything.

                    He takes a sip of the wine. She watches him, unsure of herself. He has a black bag with him.

                    He looks at her, sees her looking at the bag, and smiles slowly, I have something to show you, Agent V, he says, and she can sense his pride, the barely suppressed excitement in his voice.

                    He opens the bag carefully, pulls out a small white box, handles it lovingly. Two years experimentation in the Russian lab, he says softly, delicate threads of spun blue bonnet spider silk and yet strong enough to hang a bridge on.

                    He looks at her. Come here. he says

                    She hesitates for just a moment thinking of Mahiliki, and then inwardly shrugs, bugger it, I never really wanted to live on Fukitupi island and have loads of babies anyway. She moves over to him. He takes the transparent silk and slowly starts to wind the delicate thread around her wrists. Try and break it, he whispers in her ear, kisses her neck.

                    Then stops.

                    My God, what the fuck is that?

                    Veranassessee sighs.

                    :fleuron:

                    No I swear Sha, I am telling you, I saw him go into Vessie’s room.

                    Oh my God Glor, he might be a murderer, or a bloody rapist even!

                    I tell you though, he were right bloody gorgeous.

                    Well never mind that! The door is locked Sha. I think we’d better shout out. Make sure she’s okay.

                    Right, good idea. And then if she doesn’t answer we can bash the door in and we can both pounce on him.

                    Right, on the count of three Glor, we’‘ll shout out, one… two… THREE!”

                    #737

                    Finnley, you let me in right this mooment! commanded Elizabeth Tattler imperatively.

                    I am sorry, Ms Tattler, I am under strict instructions from Mr Arak that I am under no circumstances to let you in until this office has been cleaned. I will lose my job if I let you in.

                    Now there’s an idea! she thought, toying with the idea momentarily

                    Why that pompous, arrogant, supercilious proot ….. Elizabeth paused midflow to admire her vocabulary.

                    Finnley was quite enjoying the change of routine, and Ms Tattler’s office really was a treasure trove of interesting bits and pieces. The thick layer of dust, and were those magpie droppings? were a little off-putting mind-you. She plucked a book randomly from the shelf, and lifting the visor of her protective faceshield in order to see better, gently wiped the title clean. “I am Perfect Indeed” The author was some fellow named Erwin P Lemone who Finnley had never heard of. She picked another one, “Basic Flying Massage Techniques of the Ancient Kuzhebar, Book One for Beginners” by Jibberish E Shrale

                    Finnley, Elizabeth’s voice had taken on a wheedling tone from the other side of the door. Be a sweetie-pooh will you and put this note in my clooh-box. Finnley watched intrigued as a piece of paper inched its way under the locked door.

                    Sure Ms Tattler, where is the clooh-box?

                    On my office desk, next to the daily quotes. Don’t mess anything up Finnley dear, you be careful, I have very precious things in my office.

                    Finnley could not resist a peek but the scribbled words made no sense to her

                    Amanita muscaria intoxication typically produces macroopsia – Beckipooh?
                    13th gate and the 13th skull FEBRUPOOH 20TH 2008
                    The Snoot – who is he really?
                    supercilious proot! Arak Dr Bronkelhampton? ? ? ? WHAT IS PLAN B?????????

                    Her eyes fell on the daily quote for the day, that Lemone chappie again!

                    rainy wedding, merry marriage

                    She snorted derisively, He must be madder than Almad that Lemone, how silly! No wonder poor Ms Tattler seemed a bit mindblown sometimes if she reads stuff like that

                    #736
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      What’s that, slow down Felicity I can’t understand what you are saying!

                      Felicity took a deep breath. I am so sorry Tina, there has been a dreadful mix-up with the dresses. The dress that arrived for Becky was meant for another wedding.

                      Oh right, said Tina, well I was a little surprised when I saw it, but then, I have no idea what russian wedding dresses look like.

                      Oh yes I am so sorry, it is a terrible mix-up. Yes that dress was meant for a … well the bride was going to arrive in a huge wedding cake and then pop out the top . Oh Tina we worked weeks on it … and isn’t the dress just luscious! pure silk it is … and we had a ladder purpose built and the groom was going to climb up beside her and say their vows on top of the wedding cake on a revolving pedestal .. and somehow the dresses got mixed up … I am so sorry. Her voice trailed off.

                      Tina, making a valiant attempt to contain her laughter, tried to reassure the distraught Felicity … well I am not sure if Becky even have noticed her dress, she was quite preoccupied with applying peachy glow mineral cosmetics when I last saw her. She has some unfortunate splotches on her face, an allergy to red fruit I think.

                      Oh that poor sweetheart, gushed Felicity sympathetically. Oh I wish I could give her a big hug! She is such a sensitive one, I didn’t want to bother her, that’s why I am ringing you Tina. You are always so calm and sensible. What shall we do?

                      Well to tell you the truth Felicity, I have been trying to contact Becky for the last hour, I can’t get through to her number.

                      #735

                      The last words of the stranger were still resonating in his mind. Franiel was feeling a bit drowsy and he had the odd sensation of being looked from the inside. A smile illuminated the face of the man.

                      You are the weirdest man I ever saw. he said in a sigh. When he realized what he had told his guest, he blushed with shame. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t mean…
                      Hahahahaha. The man was slapping on his legs. Hahahaha, my dear Franiel, you don’t know how close to the truth you are. I appreciate when one speak his heart.

                      Franiel couldn’t say anything. He was aware that he should have been feeling shameful, but the laugh of the stranger had dissipated that convention. He was just feeling in harmony with his creation. This last thought surprised him. His creation? He’d been told that the gods created all that is on the Duane, her sister the Murtuane and their ghostly sister the Phrëal.

                      What was in the nectar? I’m seeing things. He frowned. Something in the surrounding objects, the mossy rocks and the earthly path, the grass and the insects flying or crawling around. The colors were different. Your eyes… they are… blue…

                      The stranger was still smiling, not saying anything, and though Franiel was feeling as if he was communicating him important things.

                      Something leapt from behind a tawheowheo, making the nearby dandelion seeds fly away silently.
                      The creature was barking and Franiel jumped on his feet, making the chalice fall in the dust. It was similar as a mountain wolf, but smaller. Black and fuzzy. And it was running toward him.

                      Don’t be afraid of Moufle, he’s my long life companion, he’s been following me in my exploration for quite some time in a form or another. He makes a lot of noise, but he knows his friends.

                      Moufle was trying to lick Franiel’s face. All the love he had felt a second before was shaded by the need to keep the animal away. Not that he was dangerous. The stranger… what was his name? He didn’t tell him his name. Franiel was too shy in his normal state to dare ask directly. But he could at least relax as Moufle was now occupied with his master, who spoke as if he’d read his mind.

                      I am not his master, you see. he was fondling his companion. He’s just choosing to come with me.
                      He kept silent for a minute, snooting around.

                      By the way, my name is Leonard.

                      #1698

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      AvatarJib
                      Participant

                        and other funny synchs :D
                        It began with Sam going to Australia, and a message I got from Marcy in my 360 after I told her about a crocodile egg… well it was an UWO.
                        She was telling me about Crocodile Dundee and the main actor Paul Hogan , who was a rigger as a former job… Eventually, I noticed just this evening that it was obviously connected to Sam going to Australia after Becky’s wedding.
                        Eric told me also that it was a synch with something he read in the comments this afternoon with the shrimpigators… and I was reading the stuff about Paul Hogan and they were just telling that he had made an ad before the Crocodile movie, and the main slogan was Shrimp on the barbie … obviously another synch.

                        There are other synchs in the text… but especially another fun one :D with a movie shot in 1980… Fatty Finn
                        And the hilarious part… well maybe not so hilarious but noticeable nonetheless, is about “from shady frog jumping contests to a fixed goat race”…

                        ;))

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