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  • #900

    START! said Tina.

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

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

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

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

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

    Lets have some good old fashioned MEANINGLESSNESS!

    #1803

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    EricEric
    Keymaster


      Yesterday sync: while watching a series, something popped in in relation to the crystal skulls.

      The thing is, Roslin, the woman character on the screenshot, is a president dying from a cancer, and is wearing a black wig. We had been discussing black wig with Finn previously.

      Later that night, Tracy shared about an experience that she and her friends just had during the afternoon, which was interpreted by Arkandin as a bleedthrough from a dying focus of her friend’s husband. He said that this focus would be in Chile.
      Tracy inquired if there was a Chile thread already in the story, to which I told her there was

      And I was quite impressed to see there was a connection not only to crystal skulls and Chile, but also with dying person, and wig…

      L-)

      #873

      A few moments later she was not so sure.

      What’s the matter?

      Oh you know … I am a bit distracted …too much going on I guess. She did not want to tell him that she could feel the presence of Mahiliki strongly in the room, his sweet trusting face gazing reproachfully at her. He would be worried about her, worried about the storm. She wondered how he was getting on.

      I understand, he smiled ruefully, it’s hardly perfect timing is it? Anyway that wasn’t the reason I asked you to meet me here, but I guess it just seemed like too good an opportunity to miss.

      I am sorry, she said, rolling her eyes.

      Maybe some other time. He handed her a robe.

      Sure. She wrapped it tightly around her. Anyway, the Doctor?

      All taken care of. I left Nurse Bellamy administering warm coconut milk, unbeknowst to her laced with a sedative. The Doctor will be peacefully sleeping for at least 24 hours.

      And Jarvis?

      Jarvis is an opportunist, but not dangerous. He was employed by the Doctor as a bodyguard, but has since changed sides. He is now working as a spy for the Magpies.

      The Magpies?

      Your hunch was right. The Magpies are operating on the Island, and they plan to strike soon.

      :fleuron:

      Sha was gazing dejectedly at herself in the mirror. Glor what d’ya reckon. Are all these bloody beauty treatments working or wot?

      Course they are!

      They looked at each other. Well, maybe it’s a bit soon to tell eh? she said doubtfully.

      Mavis! Sha shook the lump covered completely by blankets huddled on the bed. Come on Lovey, the storm won’t urt you. What d’ya reckon Mavis, ‘ow do we look?

      A dishevelled head popped out. You both don’t look no bloody different to me, ‘cept you’ve put weight on, she said honestly.

      Well that bloody does it, said Glor, We’d better find that Vessie, find out wots wot!

      #1798

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      EricEric
      Keymaster

        Some interesting syncs:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        #852
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Leah Muir, born and bred in Glasgow in Scotland, first visited Marseille on a business trip. She was the personal assistant to the director of the “Twin City Exchange Programme”, Robin Abbott.

          Leah fell in love with Marseille. Truth to tell, she fell in love with a racy fellow she met in the Café De l’Abbaye one tipsy afternoon, Enri Baccalao. Leah convinced her easy going boss to let her stay in Marseille for the rest of the exchange programme, and she moved into Enri’s apartment.

          Enri was a gregarious and popular man, and his artistically shabby home was always full of people. Leah soon became great friends with a delightfully witty young woman of Italian and Burmese descent, Luce Mong.

          #846
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Crisp fluttered to the floor as Becky drifted off to sleep. She was having an odd dream, in which she was hugging Sam. I’m so glad you don’t drink Sam, she said, emotionally, in the dream.

            Well, I do have an occasional pint down at the Duck and Firken, you know, he replied.

            You know what I mean, Sam. All those years with Sean, hoping it would all work out…her dream voice trailed off sadly….

            Hey Becky, it wasn’t a waste! Look at all the lovely children you had!

            Becky felt her dream self smile ruefully. Well, it hasn’t exactly been a picnic either, you know….

            She woke up sweating and confused. Good grief, all WHAT children! What a dreadful nightmare!

            She was wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead when Sean popped his head round the door.

            I’m popping out for a beer, Becky, won’t be long.

            Holy Moly, Becky whispered under her breath.

            #837

            As Claude was entering deeper into the giant babul tree, the obscurity was resounding with joyful peals of laughters and whispered words that seemed to mossify into his mind, like they weren’t really words, but bubbles pops and boobles.

            He was resolute to find out whatever was going on in this place…

            #1796

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Finn dreamt of the number 5, although she was unable to remember the context. Upon awakening the thought popped into her head that it was the 5th day of the 5th month today.

              #827

              The sun had just come back on the Andalusian mountains. After a day of frying sun on the beach, and showers of cats and dogs (especially dogs), everything was still for a moment.

              It’s been a few days that Yurick and Yann had arrived at Dory and Dan’s house near Gibraltar, and they were beginning to feel like fishes in water —a little bit like smoked hot pink salmons somewhat.

              Last night was full moon, and among the howling of dogs around the room, they could at times feel the presence of their friend Finn who had promised to appear as a fishnet stockings sun-glassed trenchcoated sexy spy pop-in. So far, they only had got clues as to her presence, though they got the distinct feeling she was drawing closer each passing hour.

              In any case, life was different here, slower, and peaceful. The endless trail of pyramid shaped green mountains and rocky serpentine paths seemed to be each leading to a hidden network of long-lost treasures.
              Only Flove knew what they would discover on their way to Salitre…

              #1780

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                not very good photos off my phone … a little while ago i went to an exhibition. Funny thing I had been been there about 10mins and a thought crossed my mind how i did not have much in common with the artist’s way of thinking. At that moment I suddenly realised that 90% of the exhibition was ceramic skulls and rabbits images. It was quite odd, I am usually so aware of those connections.
                Popplewell exhibition rabbits
                skulls
                elias who?

                #821
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The Glass Hour in sixty three
                  Was quite an eventful spree
                  Its tentacles spanned
                  Over many a land
                  And many a deep blue sea

                  Becky wasn’t quite sure where she was now, although she was aware of the tarty nun outfit she was wearing, much to her chagrin, but still the Kuzhebarian Laughing Monk’s limericks kept popping into her head.

                  :buffoon:

                  #1911
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    BADUL
                    or
                    the CREATIVe Act
                    Badul could be a fiction character.
                    It has its own independent entity, although it has no defined
                    personality.

                    Badul is the action-space-time unit
                    and an harmonic fluid of generating rhythm

                    Badul is a scale, a range,
                    the (one and only) scale, palette. It’s the power to choose, no
                    limits, no catalogues.

                    The day I discovered Badul I was unconscious. I only knocked at a door
                    without knocking.
                    And it came to light the pure
                    action-creation.

                    Maybe a
                    dimensión?
                    The consecution of acts, part of arevelation?

                    Badul is finding, fruitful searching, the living blow.
                    If you know it,
                    you’ll recognize it.
                    If you recognize yourself in it,
                    Badul will always be on your side.

                    ~~

                    I had a dream last night that Arkandin told me to pay closer attention to ‘pop-in’ websites

                    #787
                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      A draft suddenly went through the open window, rattling a pile of previously disarrayed papers that Finnley had neatly put on the desk, catching the office cleaner by surprise.
                      (Albert is wondering now what is the gender of Finnley, but probably that has to do with his new exploration and isn’t very important. Al is agreeing with himself on using handy ellipsis)

                      Finnley, perplexed by the thoughts having went in accompanying the rogue wind, closed the opened window. The air was decidedly more breathable, now the emanations of nicobeck were dispersed. Not to mention the trails of that magpie’s droppings. Finnley would gladly do with a bootle to roll them into a big ball.

                      What was with the third-person talking anyway? Finnley was wondering… And who is Al? Finnley knew of a Haley, but no Al for sure…
                      Surely that Tattler’s madness was contagious…

                      Putting the papers back onto the desk of Mrs Tattler (yes, I think she’s a she this one), Finnley notices something that catches Finnley’s eye (“stop messing with my thoughts!” thinks Finnley)…

                      … They were thus one of the first sentient races created by the Powers with limited awareness to populate the lands of Dooane (note: replace all previous occurrences of “Earth” with Dooane, and M’si with Moortuane). Uglings were dwarfish, a bit stout and let’s say plain ugly for most of them. But they inherited a keen mind and greatest forging skills.
                      Uglings revered the Power known to them as the Goddess of the Earths, Margiloonia, as their resemblance with raw clay and unpolished rocks were for them the evidence of such lineage. Combining their craft, they created an exquisite cup in dedication to the Goddess. Huriol, the First Ugling King in these times of Legend was given the cup to care for.
                      The Power known as Margiloonia upon seeing this offering of acknowledgment to her was very pleased and imbued the cup with transmootation powers which could be used by its true owner for healing, and some said, even to resurrect the flesh…

                      A loud knock at the door drew Finnley out of the contemplation.

                      Isn’t that vacooming done yet? I have a book to write! The stridulent voice of Elizabeth Tattler was asking behind the still closed door.

                      #1726

                      In reply to: Synchronicity

                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        this one is a synch because it suddenly popped into my head “big synch” then next second on the news was this story

                        and i sort of thought about posting it then thought “oh bit stupid don’t need to post every damn thing” .. then i noticed a lady surname Finn wrote the article so i decided i would …. synch or no synch .. pretty cool anyway, biggest building in the world and like a dragon too.

                        I am noticing that often … thought …. then synch … for example today in cafe i saw man who was in my dream again … i didn’t see him at first and then when I did, and thought “dream” … his friend at that moment said “I had a dream blah blah blah” (the conversation sounded quite weirdo, a bit like i would imagine us sounding if we were talking in a cafe and someone was eavesdropping)

                        #762
                        EricEric
                        Keymaster

                          The glowing light was showing a familiar face…

                          — So the boy is wavering?
                          — Yes. He is uncertain of the path… Does seem to have difficulty to trust his calling and take responsibilities being the owner of…
                          — He’ll do that. We can’t let him run away from it, nor afford the time of little vacationing. Did you secure the item?
                          — Yes. But you know it is worthless unless willingly handed over by the previous owner, right?
                          — Certainly. But I feel he’ll soon wish it back.
                          — I have words of cankerous corruption, endemic to where he was sent.
                          — Precisely.

                          :fleuron2: :fleuron2: :fleuron2:

                          Glasgow, Scotland, February 25 th 2068, Wrick Fundation

                          — So Cuthbert has refused?
                          — Yes. With his sister busy with her first-born, she can’t take on that much responsibility either.
                          — This is most regrettable. Lord Wrick’s will was perfectly clear though. Should none of the twins accept running his empire, all of its wealth would be used for humanitarian projects of the Fundation.

                          :fleuron:

                          A week before, Orkney Islands

                          Cuthbert, you must accept.
                          — Please, don’t wear yourself out Pope. Your body is weak.

                          Cuthbert’s face was drenched by emotion. Despite his small frame and his scrawny body, Lord Hilarion Wrick’s strong will was still present, as if etched on his face by all the years of reign. He wouldn’t take a “no” for answer, even now he was dying, just as he had never accepted it in his nearly 120 years of existence.

                          Cuthbert, listen to me. All this time you and your sister have spent at the Manor, all of the time I spent with you, this was not meant for naught, you know that. I was not some old decrepit rag of an elder waiting for his death cushioned between the laughters of his great-grand children. I noticed how you and your sister handled at an early age what I have been showing to you. The books,… the mummy even. This was only a test. What I had not found in Sean, nor in his son, I found out in you and your sister. Mind you, it took me that long, but it was worth the wait, and I know how to be patient.
                          — You’re repeating yourself Pope, I know this story. I am very grateful for all that you did, all the knowledge I owe to you, but I can’t accept. It’s just… too much! I just want to spend these moments with you.
                          — You just cannot whine throughout all of your existence Cuthbert. You chose to be born here, at this moment, in that family. There is no point in refusing what you have placed on your path.
                          — I’m not whining! It’s just that… I just want a normal life! answered Cuthbert vehemently
                          — Very well then. The face on the Lord was resolute despite his writhing in pain. You will have to see how much life is nothing meant to be normal. In the meantime, I would appreciate your letting me die alone.

                          #745

                          Arona, my dear?

                          The silky voice of Malvina resounded in Arona’s ear, while she was meditating on the implications of the story Vincentius had told her.

                          — Yes?
                          — May I borrow you Buckberry and your sabulmantium for a few moments?
                          — Oh sure, no need to ask… Though I don’t think you require my permission for Buckberry, isn’t he free as I am?
                          — Oh yes he is, exactly as you said, free as you are

                          Arona could have sworn she felt a winking energy rippling through her flesh, making some unfamiliar electrical currents crawl underneath her skin. She would have said she was thoroughly disliking it, though she wasn’t really sure if she was.

                          — Oh, Malvina added as if an innocent afterthought, we are moving by the way, perhaps you may find interesting to join us for the homationing ceremony. You may learn some more about your sabulmantium.
                          — Well, why not, answered Arona having no idea of what a homationing ceremony could be…
                          — Very well, please join us in the main entrance, where I am playing the harp. We will be waiting for you.
                          — I’ll be there in a second.

                          So, they were moving? Speak about implications… Arona muttered, stroking dozing Mandrake, who had feasted on too many of the moorats crawling inside the moisteous cave tunnels.
                          I guess I’ll take this astounding elan as a hint that I’ll be going alone she said. A yawn for all answer.
                          Considering it was Mandrake, that was almost a mark of distinctive affection… or was it rather of affectionate distinction?

                          Moving? She didn’t want to move, not yet, not like that… And to be honest, with all the stuff in that cave, she sure didn’t want to help pack all of this, be it by magic. What an impossible task.

                          Vincentius the nanny was taking care of Yikes, so she was confident should anything happen, he would be alright.

                          :fleuron:

                          On the outside of the cave, the dragons were all lined up, as if waiting for some unknown signal. Leormn first in shades of teal, and his spawns, Buckberry, with the most florid and baroque hues of purple that one could imagine, and the two facetious Heckle and Jeckle in shades of emerald, looking unusually calm.

                          Malvina, with Leo the little marmoset on her left shoulder, was playing her harp, while Irtak was accompanying her playing a mouth harp.
                          Some drums had been disposed around, and quite naturally, Arona felt like beating the measure on these, getting slowly and slowly relaxed by the music and guttural sounds produced by the throat singing dragons.
                          She almost laughed and broke the meditating pattern when she let the memory of Sanso come into her awareness. What a shame he’d missed that, that would have fitted him better than her.

                          Slowly the sounds stopped, and Malvina very gracefully rose from her stool, and greeted Arona with a loving hug. Her flowing robe was a tender orchid hue with laces of thistle pink, and her silvery peach long flowing hair were giving her the aura of a princess.

                          — Wait, where are Georges and Salome? She said, are they already gone?
                          — No, they are waiting for us at the new location, she said with a smile… Now, Leormn will start the ceremony.

                          Arona almost said Wait again, in anticipation of what was to come, and finally decided to let it flow. The serene look of Malvina and her motherly smile was of a nurturing reassurance.

                          Outside, in the grassy lands, the dragons had all grown wings and were apparently ready to take off. A pile of conic shaped dirty sand was standing in front of the entrance, that Arona had never seen before.

                          She could feel Buckberry answer her unspoken question without even a word being uttered. It is soil from the cave, and we will use it now.

                          Arona watched the dragons rise in the sky full of damp gray clouds, and wondered what they were doing.
                          They are doing two things, Arona answered Malvina (again that disagreeable habit of reading thoughts, couldn’t help but think Arona, wishing there would be some World around where such thing wouldn’t be so easy), first they are checking what kind of creature are staying with us and following the movement, continued Malvina, ignoring the remark, and second, they are drawing with that sand from the cave a circle to enclose the area we want to move

                          Arona didn’t dare say the explanations were making her even fuzzier, so she nodded as if abreast of what was going on.

                          Popping sounds of the dragons blinking in and out to get some more dirt almost made her dizzy, and she forgot the strangest feeling she had when she thought she heard “the area we want to move”.

                          — Now, continued Mavina, the sabulmantium.

                          The dragons were now all back, and the pile of sand had disappeared.
                          Arona’s attention snapped back to herself, and she handed the fine object to the lady. She couldn’t help but notice the glowing eyes of Irtak, who apparently was very eager to see what would happen.
                          So he will move too, she thought, hope his father won’t be too sad… Why did she felt it was a separation from this place she had found she was liking…

                          — If you look closely, said Malvina to no one in particular, but Arona took it for herself, you will see how easy it is to come back if you feel so inclined.

                          At her touch, the coloured sands in the sabulmantium’s transparent dragon shell globe started to move. And all could see the cave being formed, with all the little people, dragons, glukenitches and even Leo and Mandrake… They were all here, enclosed into a circle of sand.

                          — Now, if you will follow me… said Malvina who traced on the ground a curvy symbol.

                          And very slowly, as the whole sand scenery inside the sabulmantium was turning in a round, they all felt as though they were dissolving into the air. Yet, they were all solid, and the interior of the cave was still too.
                          The only thing that was moving was the exterior, twirling and changing, getting out of focus, and moving erratically at the beginning, and then getting close to a focal point. Some fine tuning was occurring.

                          And in a snap,
                          The landscape
                          Was
                          In all its splendor…

                          — Greetings! a smiling couple at the entrance of the cave said to the people inside.

                          #741
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Elvira was tucking into some reindeer stew left over from Becky and Sean’s wedding when she telepathically tuned into Becky’s distress signal. Chewing thoughtfully, Elvira tried to make sense of the visual imagery she was receiving. She seemed to be getting a mixed message; was it a nun, or was it a tart? She reminded herself to trust her impressions, and not discount them even if they seemed incongruous or unlikely, and accepted that Becky was indeed in some kind of tarty nun trouble. The question was, where was Becky.

                            Elvira pushed her empty plate away, and focused on the situation. AHA! Nutley Park, 25th bush on the left.

                            Boris, I’m going out, she said. Becky’s in a spot of tarty nun trouble in Nutley park.

                            Right Ho, dear, shall I come and help?

                            Another image of popped into Elvira’s head of the see-through black mini dress. Er, no Boris, I’ll handle this myself.

                            And with that, Elvira, sprightly old crone that she was (and fortified with mushroom laced reindeer stew) bustled off to hail a gondola cab, carrying a large carpet bag containing a selection of hastily chosen clothing.

                            #2123

                            In reply to: Snooteries

                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              Well, El Sanso is obviously not as popular as Snoot!

                              We (The Khuzebarian Sanso Gestalt) would, however, like to bring your attention to The Dance of the Red Fruits

                              A traditional Kuzheban Laughing Ritual. There is always a ‘Kuzhebarian Funny Side’, even with facial blotches and diarrhoea.

                              #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!”

                              #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.

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