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  • #2398

    I ache all over… arrrrgghhhhhhhh Aspidistra was complaining on the phone all the while being intrigued by Harvey’s positively good mood.

    “Oh you know,” Harvey began to tell her “the secret of the hyper-mel mode (a.k.a. “HMM”) is to be happy and screaaaaaming at the top of your lungs all your merriness no matter whut.”
    “And of course,” he added, “punctuating it with occasional profuse weehooes (and some wheehoees now and then).”

    “Woa… I will need more coffee for that” she said yawning while Harvey was continuing “and put your hands in the air, your fingers mimicking stars glitter! Wheeeha katcha twinkle twinkleepooh!”

    “Oh, don’t mention hands, I dropped the milk twice this morning” Aspidistra was distraught again.

    “Owlright, and have you rejoiced on having milk spilled all over the goddess body?! Mmhhh? YES! YES!”

    “And I’ve got arthritis in my thumb!”

    “Uh-oh, arthritis… even better! rhymes with Weehooohees! … or giant squid… architeuthis!”

    “Achy tits, yeah…” she moaned plaintively. “And all that milk spilled with my poor thumbies…”

    “You see, you get the hang of it,” Harvey was bouncing “got to go dearee, spread the good joy,… see you soon! Weeee…”

    And off he was, hanging on Aspidistra while her ears where still full of the echoes of weehooees.

    #2651

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    While Malvina had been enjoying the fishy delicacies of Olliburthon, she had gathered again a sense of purpose.
    “Not quite yet, but working on it…” she snapped at Leörmn, who was always quick to point out what wasn’t quite actualized. “You see, it is merely a matter of concentrating and soon it’ll be. Anyway, the fish is good here; look at those divinely prepared dishes! Leo would have loved them.”

    Leörmn wasn’t very concerned by the seeming (he almost thought “seaming” in another probability) lack of direction of late errands, as he was well aware they all served a purpose. Oh, he knew that very well indeed, so very well… — but bugger if he could explain what said purpose was. Of course he, like any dragon of his age, could have easily said, if the proper motivation, question or else had prompted him to investigate further. But in its own nature, a dragon wasn’t inquisitive. He was accepting, for all that is before him, is all that is.

    So when the idea germinated inside Malvina’s head, he already knew it would lead to a manifestation of some form, sooner or later.
    So how could he have been surprised when she told him.

    “You could at least play a little surprised!” she said “Doesn’t it sound fun and exciting to have our own Temple of Flove?”
    “I hope it won’t smell too much of fish, or you may repel your patients…”
    “Don’t be silly, we can’t be doing that here, you know that much better than I do!”
    Leörmn cracked a smile, knowing indeed very well where this would all lead.
    “And I will have a lovely white embroidered gown to officiate” Malvina was unstoppable “with pearls and shiny moonstones…”
    “Oh, of course, and rubies for the boobies” Leörmn couldn’t really remain serious.
    “That’s an idea!” Malvina was so enthralled she wasn’t really paying attention. Tomorrow she would bid farewell to Kalliona’s lovely company and Olliburthon charming gastronomy, and set her new journey’s destination to the Land of her ancestors, near the Great Lake of Umphillax, where her journey started, long before she even met her sisters.

    “Tally-oh!” Leörmn cheered, loving the way magic could make packing and unpacking so easy.

    #2393

    “Can you see something?” Pee was calling out.

    “Good gracious, what are these disturbing oinking noises?” said Autie Looh (or was is Auntie Toot) who’s been trying to catch her head ever since she’d tripped on it after it had rolled over (as, of course, her brand new head-fastener had not travelled through the portal).

    “Oh dear Glord, all my panties are loose now!” Auntie Looh exclaimed, after she tucked her dangling head under her armpits. “I’m starting to hate this bloody place!” she said, after managing to knot her pride back under a fold of her tummy.

    “Howdy!” Auntie Toot cried out “I think I can see something glowing in the dark… There! Whoohooo! … Or wait, is it someone glowing?”

    #2793
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      (#1702)

      Becky had shaken the last dead becky in huge letters.
      Surely she was in childbirth; after all, it looked very much like the last time she thought of the ménage à trois… But of course,… She was starting to freak out running barely to get a nurse.

      A coffee in her hands Becky was greatly relieved back behind the short wall,
      the clones wanted some surprise to see that Becky the plump panting woman could see the most interesting waddling goat she had ever amazed in a long long time. How entertaining.

      “Beh, don’t be fooled.” the goat answered with a mysterious smile

      #2386

      “So,” Pee looked up to Dolores and Auntie mac Assar, who where both a full head taller than he was (which annoyed him a bit) “are you too coming with us to the portal or were you just there because you saw lights?”
      “Of course,” and his voice softened a little, as he was seeing S’illy’s eyes moisten at the thought of already leaving her funny and eccentric aunts, a thought he hardly shared for any of Penelope’s sisters… “of course, I’m not chasing you, but this trip may be perilous” and he couldn’t resist adding “you may well lose your head along the way…”

      #2385

      Almondus Blondor, the Keeper of the Old and notwithstanding Great portal of Nibabuz was on his way to Josephine Moodoo the Great Priestress of OzMoosis, and occasionnally witch-doctoress. It was for this last talent that Almondus had taken his day off. It was actually his first day off since the last century, but his arthretic was now becoming unbearable, and had on many times almost have him become nuts, a fate altogether far more enviable than the one of losing one’s head he would say (as he wasn’t truly a native Peaslander either).

      So, this arthrectic was painful, terribly painful, the result of considerable arrhythmical calculus mixed with jointless restlessness. A few times he had to mend his limbs back together, and feared the witch would blame his indulgence on koomaroo, a variety of sweet potatoes he craved at the expense of following the ancestral Peaslander’s peas and marmite toasts usual diet. For that, he was often call Mr Koomaroo by the little neighbours, those nasty pests.
      But as we said earlier (heed, heed, little Pooh), he was no native Peaslander either.

      So, during his day off, he had appointed his young apprentice, Bentworth Sadnick, a local and remarkably headless fellow, who wasn’t very wise for his seventy-year-young age ; as since the last decades, no one had tried to activate the Great and notwithstanding Rusty portal, he thought he could have that little day off without much trouble happening.

      Josephine would surely repair him in a snap of her delicately podgy fingers (they reminded him of delicious sweet potatoes) and everything would be forever again perfect… at least for the next ten decades.

      #2380

      Dolores de la Cabeza came from St Andrex of Sauce, in the Canary Islands. The Canary Islands were so named because of the preference of the population for the colour yellow. Needless to say, this did have rather a curious effect on their perception when exposed to other colours, which was inevitable when travelling abroad.

      #2377

      “Oh, Doily dear, there thoo are!” Mewrich Peamon cried out at the sight of Dolores, almost losing his loincloth in excitement. ‘Doily’ was how he affectionately called Dolores, one of the most fervent admirer of his works, though he strongly suspected she didn’t quite understand them all.

      However the Saucerer was pleased to know the lady, who wasn’t shy of keeping her heads on her shoulders, a custom that most Pealanders would have found outrageously bold and casual, preferring to have their heads at home, (or) just in (suit)case.

      “I was just about to tell your nephews and brother-in-law all about section three twenty one of the Art of Bird Swift Travelling Right Unto Sextion Eight (A.B.S.T.R.U.S.E), but surely you could indulge us in revealing the few caveats I was about to tell them about the beard.”

      “Didn’t you mean bird?” Doily said with a interrogative pout which almost had her lovely green wig fall onto her eyes.

      “Well, of course I meant beard, dear —and always glad to see we’re on the same page on this one!” “Though I fear we’ll soon have to turn to the next…” He added mysteriously.

      #2375

      Suddenly, they began to hear little muffled sounds coming from the roof.
      “Oh! not that pop corn rain again…” sighed Mewrich Peamon.
      If Silly still had her head on, she would have looked thrilled and excited by the anticipation of making a pop-corn-man or throwing pop-corn balls at her brother. Where was he? Oh here, just coming from the other other room. She couldn’t see the guilty look on his face, of course, as he got no head… but their mother could, and she was taking notes of all of it for when they’d be back.

      #2374

      The sound of a boiling kettle resounded screeching in the air so loudly everyone looked at Pee as if he was the culprit.

      AAAAARGH, by the beard of Wrathfa the Bloody Goat, darn rotten rusted spigots again! That frigging plumbing is not at all was it’s used to be!…” Mewrich Peamon sweared in mild despair. “This morning alone, I had to remove one of them again, it’s been months I haven’t taken a hot bath…”

      “But of course,” he added with darting eyes when the others didn’t look that surprised “you haven’t come here to hear about that.”

      #2372

      That’s when a particularly shiny object caught Pickel’s eyes. It was on the table, in plain sight, but it was as if the others couldn’t see it. Of course, they don’t have their head, thought Pickel… but he’d forgotten that he’d left his head at home too.
      As he was approaching the table, Gnarfle noticed that he wasn’t following the bird keeper and the others in the other room and decided to stay with him. Maybe he wanted to play some game and Gnarfle would be glad to indulge him.

      :fleuron:

      The other room was full of birds, and Silly’s throat got suddenly constricted as she let out a raucous gag.
      Which startled both her father and the wise Peamon who let out an indescribable laugh.
      PeAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, it’s just here, thanks little one!
      Pee was a bit confused as he couldn’t see what the wise Peamon was showing them, and the little peagirl was trying not to think of the smell of the aviary… ( how do I know such a word? she thought to herself.)

      #2371

      AHAHAHA” the man in a loincloth greated them “or…” he added with a mischievous wink “perhaps shall I say Oooh ooh ooh.”
      Mewrich wasn’t a man short of a some raspiness and prickliness in his voice either.
      “MY FRIENDS, you are a most welcome and delightful breath of headlessness coming to this house” he said, vaguely designing the moistly and mossy hole behind him.

      “Your cave!?” retorted Lilli a bit bossily and raucously
      “Don’t be rude S’illy!” Pee said through his breath (S’illy was the little family moniker standing for Sis’ Lilli).

      “Yes my cave, dear ones. And I’m not silly!”
      “Well of course you’re not her” Pickel muttered, still angered at the failed appreciation of his earlier prank. He wished he had left his posterior at home too now.
      “Don’t try to confuse me! These confuddling talents would be best kept for when you are in ED. But let us not waste precious and mucous time. Let me show you my bird.” he added without further ado.

      #2349

      Oh damn, not another masked man! thought Lavender. The raucous voice of the hooded stranger was irritating her. On further reading of the previous comment she decided it was a jolly good thing he was saying nothing. So was it the unrelenting heat which was doing her head in? Or maybe it was Ann’s incessant chatter and coughing.

      “I want to see your real face, Phenol,” snapped Lavender suddenly.

      IT, taken aback by the unexpected outburst from the usually mild tempered Lavender, turned and ran.

      “Goodness!” said Ann, startled. “Was there any need to upset Phenol like that?” She looked accusingly at Lavender, who could only hang her head and cough in reply.

      “You are a bossy one aren’t you?” said the stranger to Ann, and Lavender smirked to herself. “But, don’t worry, Phenol will return soon.” The stranger smiled mysteriously, although of course the others could not see that as the mask obscured most of his face.

      #2648

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      There’s something, er, fishy, about this here dead cow, Sanso surmised. He was still a little fuzzy after his peregrinations in the Dense Dimension. Suddenly he slapped his forehead and exclaimed D’Oh! This dead cow is no accident! He shook his head, as if trying to shake the cobwebs loose. The effects of the brocolli hadn’t worn off completely yet. I can’t beleive I chose the Brocolli from the ‘You Fool’ Jar instead of the ‘Thank You’ Jar. I should have realized, Sanso was still shaking his head, what the ramifications would be of choosing discounting instead of appreciation. D’OH! he exclaimed again. Really, I had no idea how far reaching and all encompassing the effects would be of that Brocolli choice. I suppose it’s no accident the vegetable in question was brocolli, either, with all those probability branches and probable florets.

      Right then Sanso, Old Bean, pull yourself together, he told himself firmly. This here dead cow is a sign. He approached the dead cow slowly, sniffing the ether, in a manner of speaking, for clues. He recalled the Dead Cow Cult
      from another elsewhen, and their affiliation with the Arduino
      Time Travelling Internet Server, and wondered if there might be a connection.

      The Fool Fog of Discounting, caused by the brocolli Choice, in Sanso’s head was starting to clear, and he began to access information. The Cult of the Dead Cow had merged with the Arduino Enterprise at some point, creating an offshoot called the Pirates Association of Time Hackers, otherwise known as P.A.T.H. They had been recruiting members from many times and places, and as usual, had attracted large numbers of teenagers.

      One teenager in particular appeared to stand out in Sanso’s mind, a peculiar young man who went by the alias “Holy Cow”.

      Oh My God! Sanso slapped his forehead again. (I really must get these AHA moments under control, he said to himself, rubbing his bruised head) It can’t be! Yes, it is! It’s Yikesy!

      #2647

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      When Yikes had first asked Arona, when he was like 6 or 7 years old if he had a father, Arona had brushed the question aside with a roll of an eye, and an annoyed flicker of the other.

      “Of course you have, little pooh…”

      It was glaringly obvious that the little Ugling wasn’t bearing any likeness with her handsome model Vincentius, so she didn’t mock the little guy’s intelligence by asking why he was even inquiring of such a thing.
      And for a few years, telling him the story of how he was given to her by the dwarf Palani was enough to calm the torrent of his questions.

      Later though, as he was gaining strength and other skills taught to him by Vincentius, who was ever patient and dedicated to the well-being of Arona and the child, his questions became an obsession, and he took upon himself to discover the truth he could feel was wrapped in fantasy and nonsense —or at least, not told completely.

      Perhaps it was an indiscretion of a glukenitch found in the many caves there were nearby their home, nobody knew for certain. (Glukenitches sharing one mind, they knew many of the secrets of the caves they sometimes deigned to share with strangers…) anyway, nobody knew for certain, but he found out about the mysterious Sanso, and how he became ‘acquainted’ with Arona (whom Yikes had never called but by her first name).

      Yikes was now in his teen years, and wanted more than ever to meet Sanso, although he never quite revealed that secret plan least it would upset the loving and caring Arona. He had to find someone to help him in his research, but where they lived, encounters were scarce.

      One day, a young woman he’d never met before went to see Arona. They were friends apparently, and he overheard Arona call her Salome, while they were discussing about lots of people, whose names he mostly didn’t know. He was feeling uncomfortable around nice ladies, and almost didn’t show up for dinner. However, an embarrassed silence and a sideway glance as a certain “he” was being inquired about by Arona raised his ears, and he took upon himself to try to learn more from the lady.
      So when she left, he followed her to the entrance of one of the nearby caves, and showed up —apparently without surprising the lady called Salome. She was well aware of his presence, and of his desire to find Sanso.
      “The man defies logic,” she then warned Yikes “and you need a riddle outside of logic to catch him and his attention.”
      That was almost all of what she said before disappearing into the damp cave’s tunnel. That and… “no need to beat a dead cow.”

      Yikes had pondered that for days, without success.
      Until the illumination came: all he had to do was become the hunter, and bait his prey.
      For that, he would kill the fatted calf, to welcome the return of the prodigal father.

      And put his bait near the tunnels near the realms from whence he roamed aimlessly.

      #2347

      Ann realized she was late for her Flimsy Unravelled Continuity Knowledge class. A couple of months late, in point of fact, as Worserversity classes had resumed two months previously.

      “Where have you BEEN?” Lavender whispered as Ann slid as inconspicuously as possible into the seat beside her, while the professor at the front of the class was facing the blueboard.

      “Do I know you?” asked Ann, with a puzzled expression. The girl beside her did look vaguely familiar.

      “Oh how rude you are, Ann. Are you trying to be funny?”

      “Oh no, not at all!” Ann’s eyes filled with tears.

      Lavender frowned. It wasn’t like Ann to start blarting and blubbering in public. “What’s the matter?” she asked kindly.

      “I’ve lost my memory!” exclaimed Ann. “I can’t remember a thing!”

      “Oh, is that all,” replied Lavender dismissively. “I’d have thought you’d be used to that by now.”

      “No, no, you don’t understand! I can’t remember anything at all now, it’s all gone, poof! Gone!” Ann wept and started to wring her hands.

      “Well the first thing you need to do is stop that bloody snivelling and wipe your nose. Here” she said, handing Ann a tissue. “And the next thing you need to do is stop worrying about it, and just fake it until you get your memory back. Worrying about it won’t help, you must focus on the things you do remember.”

      “But it’s all jumbled up and muddled in my head, I remember bits, you know? But I can’t fit them all together. I CAN’T FIT THEM ALL TOGETHER!”

      SHHH!” snapped Lavender. “Try not to draw any attention to yourself! I’ll help you, don’t worry.”

      “You’re so kind” Ann smiled weakly. “What did you say your name was?”

      “Lavender. My name is Lavender, and I’m going to help you remember. Just remember this, for now: what you can’t remember, don’t worry about, the important thing is to carry on. Just CARRY ON REGARDLESS, ok?”

      “OK.” Ann sighed with releif. “What’s the Professor going on about?”

      “The next assignment. We’re to read that cryptic old classic book Circle of Eights and try to decipher it.”

      “Good greif! Nobody has ever managed to decipher that book!”

      “You see?” said Lavender. “You can remember that! Well done, girl!”

      #2643

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      After her little escapade with Yimho, and then with Brennan, and then with Gormitohl, and with each escapade, a new home, new relationships and relatives, Malvina was starting to feel homesick. ‘Home’ wasn’t really any place of course, but we all know when we feel at home or not. And right now, the feeling was clear and loud that she wasn’t.
      Not only that, but her selfless outpouring of love (which dear Arona always found slightly exaggerated for her tastes) had oftentimes put her in awkward situations.
      People weren’t always aware that even though her love was given so strongly to all of creatures, it could be found everywhere, in every creature. Ancients called that stream viwre. The only difference with her and the others was that she wasn’t discriminating and her love was outpourring in every direction, regardless of the intentions of the receiver. And that could become a terrible power.

      Well, after all the traveling with her teal-coloured dragon Leörmn, and occasional visits from the young dragon breeder Irtak she felt more than ever the need to reconnect. It’s been too many years now, and the world of the (still) warring Kingdoms didn’t feel much of a better place. So there was still work to be done.

      Of all people, she knew where to turn to.
      It was too early to start her trip around the world to physically reunite with her sisters. A lifelong project which had strangely stalled ever since they started to mention it.
      But she remembered Kalliona, a beautiful woman living south of the Marshes of Doom. She wasn’t really a woman either, but rather an E’elim of the woods, but she appeared as a beautiful woman to almost anyone.
      She would help her realign with her path.

      “Leörmn!” She called “We’re packing!”
      “To where, may I ask?”
      “Olliburthon”
      “Oh great… A stinking harbour now.”

      #2642

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        The Great White Botherbrood were gathered at the Great White Detention Halls in the Alter Skye. Hilarionella was leading a chorus of Ascend With Me; the congregation of misfits and miscreants, scallywags and rebrobates joined in the uplifting melody, hoping, no doubt, to ascend the Great White Stairway to The Circle of The Eighth Heaven. A little known fact was that the doors were open to anyone, although not many people knew that. A feast of watermelon awaited them at the Table of The Ascended Party Fillers, headed by that charming old scoundrel, Saint Toblerone of Germaine. That batty old coot Hoomy was Head Waiterless, which meant there was no need to wait for a table when one arrived at The Circle of The Eighth Heaven, which was just as well, all things considered.

        Telless was waiting patiently for the Watermelon Party to start, having recently been cured of the lisp that had plagued him for centuries, an unexpected side effect of the Less Telleth More course he had eventually completed, despite being inundated throughout the semester with More, rather than Less, translations to unravel and decipher.

        The tables, the watermelon, and other sundries had been procured with the aid of the enigmatic E. Baynoch, whose 21st century mission was to put a spanner in the works, so to speak, of the tightly held exchange mechanism currently ruling the Dense Dimension. He felt it was a key part of the Great Tilt that the inhabitants of the Dense Dimension were experiencing, and had set plans in motion for a new kind of online system in which receiving without exchange was the key factor. An interesting side effect of the new system would be that everyone could get rid of any old rubbish easily, once differences in perception were regarded in a favourable and usefully practical light.

        Lady Paula Adoremyanus, not surprisingly, would be providing rest room facilities, providing soothing energy for those who had over-indulged in the spicy Kwan Yin Chow Mein at the Tables of the Feast of The White Parrot. Having a thousand arms was obviously a great help in her work, considering the quantity of hot spices in the Kwan Yin Chow Mein, and the popularity of her Soothing Energy Rest Rooms.

        #2062

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Morning cat work meaning Tina assignment
          dragons taking news planet beautiful start
          wondered away harvey truth yourself
          communications large full surprise

          links random needed fishes please
          remarked friend forgotten story
          seem tree message gone
          stay under create body
          weaving somehow answer remember

          #2341
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            As far as the Ooh-dimension was concerned, the shift of Vowellness was probably complete

            “Thank Flove for that!” Ann (or was it Elizabeth?) exclamied. She continued to read the contents of the large manila envelope that had been delivered several weeks late due to the postal strike.

            “Postal strike?” Gordon (or was it Godfrey?) inquired sarcastically. “Ann ~ or is it Liz? ~ surely you just made that up! Do you need an excuse?”

            LizAnn chose to ignore her old freind Pig Littleton and continued to read.

            And she couldn’t find anything new being published by Ms Tattler in all now probable directions she was looking into.

            LizAnn snorted.

            She was of course ignoring the disrupted echoes from the Jumbled Eights thread, which were probably the brainstorming board of ideas of the writer, which she had the greatest difficulty to follow (she wondered if even the writer could).

            Reaching for her handkerchief, LizAnn snorted again. “No the writer bloody can’t follow it” she muttered. “But does it bloody matter!”

            Her own thread and the details of the history of the Wrick family was always sketchy and full of holes;

            “Aha Ha Ha Ha”

            she’d attempted at learning more about the elusive Becky , but she kept blinking in and out of continuity, too quickly for her to follow her anywhere in her explorations

            “Yes, where the devil IS Becky, Gordfry? or is it Godon?”

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