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  • #2410

    “Well, I’m not eating bitter batter, even if it has got butter in it. I’m going out dancing, are you coming?”

    “Dang it, yes! Let’s dance, darling, let’s dance! It’s a dandy day for dancing, I’m decidedly dapper today ~ and dashing and daring, dammit!”

    “Come on then you cute cuddly chickpea, my carriage careers round the corner now, to catch you at the curb. Come, cherished chum, come cavorting with me!”

    #2652

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “We walk, Ia’eh and Minkah, Desher and I,” Elizabeth read the email from Hypatia, “ towards the dark ridge of stone where the books lie hidden, awaiting the day they should be found again…..When Cleopatra ruled, the books numbered 400,000…and this, I think, is true. By the time of Theon of Alexandria, an age in which the books were no loner in the Great Library of the Palace of the Ptolemies, which was also no longer, but housed instead the “daughter” library of the Serapeum, they numbered 360,000. Those lost to the Bishop of Theophilus amounted to a tenth of these. But no matter if full half were lost, that Minkah brought out from Alexandria so many amazed me then; it amazes me still. He not only carried them here, but brought back an account of where each cave was sited, and which jars were placed in which cave.”

      “Godfrey, didn’t we know a Minky once, who was a sort of a servant?”

      “We did indeed, Liz, you were the one who inserted him into the story, surely you remember?”

      “Well, the name rings a bell, Godfrey, but where did we meet him?”

      Godfrey snapped his fingers and as if by magic, an excerpt from the Reality Play appeared:

      “Just then a funny little man with a huge cheeky grin appeared and held out a tray. Smoothies! Coconut and berry smoothies, and pink cakes, croissants”

      “Croissants!” interrupted Elizabeth.

      “… and oranges, and a box of cadbury’s chocolates…”

      “Don’t remind me about Cadbury’s” groaned Elizabeth. “I simply can’t bear it that they’ve blinked into another dimension”

      Godfrey continued: “ Dory slurped and munched and gobbled and slurped some more, and underneath where the chocolate was, she saw a brochure.
      On the front cover was a picture of a cave. OOHH A CAVE! Dory loved caves! Let’s go to the cave today, Minky! she said to the funny fellow with the impish grin. Minky winked.”

      “He was going to take Dory to the caves!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Why didn’t I finish that story thread!”

      “There’s no need to wring your hands like that, Liz” said Godfrey soothingly. “You can continue it now!”

      #2402

      “What?” The Majorburgmester of Peasland almost laughed of surprise at the incongruity of Fwick con Troll’s idea. “You’re telling that this…”

      “Little spider, yes”
      “Contains a potent venom that could wipe the blubbits off the face of Peasland?”
      “Absolutely, dear Majorburgmester”
      “Are you out of your Fwicking mind, Fwick? What breading this nasty spider could possibly bring us any better than a plague of crop-eating blubbits in rut?”
      “I was actually talking of breeding them, sir” Fwick objected
      The Mayor continued unperturbed “Besides, we already have our fierce constable Stoll drill the mythic Eight Dimension for answers.”
      “That would be placing a lot of trust in that foolish venture, I’m afraid to say, Majorburgmester. To date, very few people have managed to return safely.”
      “Oh, who cares if they ever bloody come back Fwick! Come on! All we need to do is extort the answers from his spouse who’s kept all their heads in a safe place, I have no doubt of that.”
      “Well… I wouldn’t place my head on this bet if I were you…”

      “Ah, bugger off then with your stinking spider, and do your bloody experiments… As long as it doesn’t involve my name, and especially in case any misguided and sad assassination should occur, ahahaha. I’m joking of course.” The Mayor’s face (which was framed and hanged on the wall of the Majorburgmester Hall’s main office) suddenly shut any hint of humanity that could have been left on it.

      #1317

      In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        January 21 st, 2010

        About Worlds creating and dreamwalking

        Has it occurred to you that your current technologies [such as social websites] are more than a little reflection of what you are doing as essence.
        It is more indeed, and very useful as an analogy.
        You have, for one, certainly noticed how different the “feel” of certain of these “sites” is, even when you are most of the time surrounded by the same set of friends and relationships? Yes you have.

        Let us call these sites “dimensions”. Yes, it sounds familiar, doesn’t it. You all participate in some manner into these, and you all have persona of yourself in various of these. They compete for your attention, and some of them are more popular than others —these are the ones which offer you the most fulfilling experience, not necessarily the most pleasant.

        In many ways, you connect as essence through these dimensions, which reveal aspects of your personalities, aspects that are not always visible or noticed in a direct interaction. When you congregate through these sites, you also start to realize, you have access to all of the others as essence, either through proxy of friends, or by direct interaction. You are all connected.

        They all have different rules, or shall we say, conventions; you can do certain things, certain others you cannot (or not yet), and others, you can, but they are not well tolerated or accepted.
        We let you do all the fine analogies, you mostly get the idea. The technical rules behind those sites are like your mass beliefs. They are helpful to maneuver your “avatar” —that focus of yourself inside the system— and without them, there would simply be no interest, no interaction, no experience.
        Of course, these beliefs can be bent ; with applications, made by these people wanting to develop new systems plugged into the architecture, to offer new functions, or interactions with others of these sites or dimensions.

        The creators of these dimensions are similar to dreamwalkers; some of them are bent on technology and development of the system at its core, but not all of them. Many in fact come with other intents, such as making the dimension a more beautiful, interactive, attractive or pleasant place. They all work together to bring the experience of the envisioned dimension to the other essences —and at some point, they also choose, themselves to interact, as a focus, fully part of their created dimension.

        Having that in mind, would it not seem natural that you would integrate more functionalities to these sites, if they respond to the promises of keeping focuses interested? What you call “upgrades” are in fact a major part of the conception of these dimensions, and occur quite frequently, either driven by popular demand, or by technical need.
        Such is the nature of the shift you are experiencing, which is above all a tremendous upgrade [of mass beliefs] towards a more integrated experience, without simply dropping the current dimension for another.

        We would finally like you to notice also that even if the biggest of these dimensions are calling for a great part of your attention, you also are attracted daily to countless others, little sites and areas, the purpose of which is different, but not less significant to your whole self.

        #2400

        Phurt knew there was something strange, her previous memory was that she was dead and now she seemed to be perfectly alive and alert.
        The environment was strange, though. It was all full of little balls and she could see many headless people. Compared to them, her size was quite ridiculous and she prefered not to make her presence known for the moment. She will have time later for her projects of conquest of the world. But is what world was she?

        All at her thinking, she didn’t see the creature coming and she almost died again out of fear when it began to breath in the air around. Maybe it was some kind of hoovering creature. She began to feel the vibrations as the dog (who has his head on for a change) began barking to notify his master that he has found the strangest little creature aroud. The master of the dog was a child of New Peasland and when he saw that strange little creature that he had never seen before, he called for his mother, who in turn didn’t know the little creature at all, and she asked her neighbor what it could be, but the neighbor didn’t know as well, so the went together to the mayor who in turn didn’t know what to think of it, but he was sure it had not been spotted before by a mayor of New Peasland, he would be the first, and he asked the kid to entrust him with his find and that he would tell him soon about it, thank you!

        All alone in her matchbox, Phurt started to relax, the last few event had been frightening and she couldn’t do anything to escape her assailants, but the eventually let her alone, even if it was in some kind of jail.

        MOUAAHAHAHAHAH, she laughed of her little spider laugh, which resembled more to a little squircking sound than to a laugh, especially in the New Peasland dimension. She had laughed because the walls of her prisons seemed quite tender and it would not demand her too much effort to get out. But for now, she was exhausted and needed some rest. It was not everyday that you found yourself alive again.

        #2392

        Penelope was looking fondly at her family’s heads on the mantelpiece, comfortably seated in her armchair in front of the dancing flames.
        “This is so much better than TV or embroidering… Toot and Looh really don’t know what they’re missing!”

        #2389

        One tiny thing that Pee and his family wasn’t entirely aware of, as well as poor Bentworth Sadnick, was that the Old Portal was indeed… old.
        An ancient generation’s which allowed only transfer of biological entities, whereas all things manufactured, such as the latest shiny head-fasteners, wouldn’t be passed through the portal.

        This would have explained to the inquiring minds why there was an inordinate amount of plastic garbage in front of the rusty and Old Portal to the Eighth Dimension.

        But no one thought of asking, forgetting for the most part that the elastics of their pants were made mostly of inorganic stuff…

        #2388

        He was lying on her massage table, his nudity covered with a blue satin towel. Josephine had really soft hands and was a really good masseuse. Almondus Blondor had been waiting for so long for this massage that he wouldn’t let one bit escape his awareness; though, he was feeling as if he was inexorably slipping into the drum world, his heart was pounding, more and more present. His attention was merging with his old drum self, when he could remember clearly how it was before he came here through the portal himself.

        :fleuron:

        Josephine was using the very potion she was preparing when she heard the tinkling sound… and she was unaware that her hand had taken a wrong ingredient, one of the most important ones. Even if she had known, she would have been unable to tell the consequences of the switch. Almondus could just disappear, melt, transform into a big giant dragonfly… at the moment, she was into a trance, far even from the idea that she could do such a mistake. She never did mistakes!

        :fleuron:

        Bentworth Sadnick was all but confident in his new appointment by his peaster. He had never been alone at the portal before, and he feared most of all that someone would come ask a question. In his mind, it was unthinkable that someone would even dare ask to open the portal…

        He was lost in his hamster wheel, too exhausted by the race to do the usual chores —sure his peaster would notice when he comes back. But what if some official came by? It would certainly be a disaster, Bentworth would be caught stammering and that would only add to his confusion. Wasn’t it hot here? So hot, maybe if he could just put his head aside for a few moments… no, it was forbidden, his peaster had repeated it thousands of times to him, and had him repeat it ten times more… though it could help, sure, release the pressure in his head. His hands reached the hook of his head-fastener and a sudden release of pressure popped into the silence, ending in a harmonious whistling sound.

        Holding his head in his hands, face turned to his chest, he was unable to see the strangers coming from the distance. He sat on the first step of the stairs climbing to the portal, his head resting on his lap, looking at his belly button (his clothes were too short for him, and he was looking like a child grown too fast). Though he was the only one present and when he suddenly heard a raucous voice asking if he could make his bird sing, he feared that it was some kind of sexual offer and were his head on, it would have blushed, but it was still releasing pressure and the sudden squirck sounded like a yes.

        That’s when he lost his head, he stood up briskly and his head rolled on the ground, hitting a stone in the process. His head was knocked out, and he couldn’t use it for the moment. What had his peaster told him so often: “Always do as if you know what to do! Don’t let people see you don’t know, even if you don’t… pretend that you have all the answers. You’re here the most trusted Peaslander and everybody will trust what you say.”

        “Sh-show mme yu-your bi-bird!”

        The Aunt and Dolores looked at each other… the others being headless it would have been pointless.
        “Are you the Keeper of the Old and notwithstanding Great portal of Nibabuz.”

        As he was about to say yes, another release of pressure from his unconscious head made a squirmish sound. As they were waiting, he said the word that would seal his destiny.
        “Yeyes!”

        :fleuron:

        That’s when Almondus, falling asleep, farted. Was it the mixture of Josephine? Was it that he hadn’t done a detox cure for centuries? Nonetheless, that had the disastrous effect of inducing Josephine in a lethargic state. She stopped massaging him and stood there still. Her spearit gone, far worse than if her head had popped out on its own.

        #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.

        #2383

        SOON IT WILL BE REVEALED!” thundered Pickel.

        The others, after recovering from their shock, looked at Pickel in surprise.

        “What are you on about boy?” asked Pee.

        Pickel was as confused as the others. “I don’t know,” he stammered. “It just came from .. no where…”

        “Well keep it down will you, you will scare the bird we are taking to the Keeper of the Portal, whose name eludes me but he has a long beard and is old and arthritic, in order to get the bird to sing 4 notes, no more and no less, in order to open the portal and get to ED and save New Peasland from the plague of the Blubbits.”

        Pee was feeling a need to clarify. Not for the first time he was wondering if volunteering for this dangerous mission had been wise. He fortified himself with the thought of Mungibbs.

        “What are Mungibbs, Daddy?” asked Silly.

        Pickel was quiet. He could feel the silver object burning a hole in his pocket.

        #2650

        In reply to: Strings of Nines

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Will Tarkin had written an explanatory note to enclose with the box of leeks, to explain his unforseen difficulty in acquiring celery, and to please excuse the substitute leeks.

          #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.

          #2370

          “HE PUT A BLUBBIT DOWN MY KNICKERS!” sobbed Lilli, loudly.

          Unfortunately Lilli too had inherited the Stoll family curse, and her voice raised to such a level caused poor Fwick to cover his ears in horror. Being no fool, and quickly realising that without a head this ear protecting action would do no good at all, he instead decided he must evict these raucous Peaslanders from his abode, poste haste.

          “Yes, indeed, Mewrich Peamon is the man you want to see. A strange fellow, lacking sense some may say, but very good with birds notwithstanding. Now, please, don’t thank me again. I mean really, don’t …. “ he muttered, ushering the guests in the direction of where he hoped the door was.

          #2352

          “Good grief, I don’t feel so bad about my face now”, said Phenol, who, as the stranger predicted, had reappeared.

          “What sort of help?” asked Lavender suspiciously.

          “We would be delighted to offer any assistance we can” gushed Ann, glaring at Lavender.

          Ann felt herself being sucked into the spiral of blue light and wondered if the vortex was messing with her head, or perhaps she should cut back on the weeds? “Well, not to worry, this feels like it could be a jolly fun adventure!” Privately Ann thought the stranger was rather good looking too, in a blue sort of a way.

          Lavender, who thought the stranger looked weirdo, rolled her eyes and wondered whether to call Harvey. She was becoming concerned about Ann, who seemed a little more blurred at the edges than usual, and whose skin had taken on a slight blue tinge. At least she had stopped all that irritating coughing though.

          “When in doubt, hug!” shouted Phenol, throwing ITs arms around Lavender. “Come on! Group Hug!”

          “Oh a group hug, how lovely!” giggled Ann, lunging at the stranger, who had become strangely quiet.

          #2348

          Ann was savooring a coughee with Lavender and Phenol. It was certainly not easy to follow a conversation when you were coughing all the time after a sip of coughee but it was quite savoory and tasty, and Flove knows why it was soo expensive.
          Phenol was one of those students at the worserversity with acne and he or she wouldn’t allow another person to see his or her real face. So maybe for convenience only we can call him or her: IT.
          It was the only moment you could hear a sound coming out of ITs hood, during thoose coughee sessions it was hard to keep completely silent.
          Ann was very curious though, and it could be the only reason that she kept asking Phenol to come. She was still in search of clooes about that when a man arrived.

          He was wearing a black hood and speaking with that particular raucous voice you only hear in movies… She got the chills and asked him to join their company. Lavender rolled her eyes because the man with the raucous voice stepped on her right foot. Not that she suffered much, because she couldn’t feel her right leg since that accident a few years ago.

          The man ordered a coughee with croombs and stayed there, saying nothing. That was not unpleasant at all, since Ann was chatting and coughing, taking the coughs of the others as a yes or a no to her questions. At least an acknowledgment that she was heard.

          #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.

          #2646

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          One thing led to another, as it tends to do, while Sanso sat meditating on the enigma of The Dead Cow. Random and seemingly disjointed images flashed through his mind, not unlike a random google had been back in the old days, the first being an odd word, Kogaionon . Accessing further information, Sanso discovered that it was an ancient Transylvaniun skull. The link between the dead cow and the skull was clear ~ it was a bone sync, they both had bones, there was no denying it. Encouraged, Sanso continued to meditate.

          :crystal-skull:

          After some images of a battle at sea , presumably Trafalgar, Sanso intuitively felt, he heard the words “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” Wise words, he thought, and appropriate too. He popped these snippets into his indigo clue bag and continued to meditate. An image of a strange creature, half fish and half lion appeared next, a Merlion, which quickly morphed into an entertaining old movie playing across the screen of his minds eye, so to speak, in which someone who reminded him of Becky arrived in Paris during a rainstorm with just the clothes on her back ~ and interesting clothes they were, too! Sanso was glued to the screen, in a manner of speaking, and watched with amusement as a whole new wardrobe was delivered to the puzzled woman, followed by her mysterious benefactor: Georges.

          Well, fancy Georges turning up again like that! Sanso was delighted. Perhaps Georges could shed some light on the mystery of the Dead Cow Blocking the Cave Entrance.

          Sanso returned to his meditation and found himself eavesdropping on a conversation.

          — Well, and Sanso, and Georges then, are they dead or what? How come Dory can see them?
          — These ones are special, they have mastered the crossing of the Worlds, and can move through them. They move differently though. Sanso comes from a lineage of an ancient tribe of Zion, and had learn from them how to activate some portals, but only through the physical world of Dory, in their own time. He is not yet aware that he can also move through time as well, or even through other Worlds — worlds that he has no conception of yet.
          Georges is more consummate in that art. Their meeting is not coincidental. You will see that.
          — Thank you Grandad, it’s becoming a bit less confusing.
          — Just flow with the story my little one, don’t hold on too much, or you will find it too difficult, and you will stop to find fun in it.

          “Their meeting is not coincidental” Sanso repeated to himself, popping it into his clue bag. “Well, I don’t know about Meanings, but at least I have a new bag of clues now!”

          #2645

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Sanso had been hanging around for far too long, trying to make sense of all the funny ideas that people have, and trying to get to grips with all their adventures and escapades, their convoluted ponderings, and all the friends and associates that were continually weaving themselves through the many threads. He’d all but forgotten that he was a wanderer by nature, used to travelling alone. Somehow he’d become stuck in their ways, despite not ever really fitting in completely, and he wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. Perhaps it had been the broccoli. With a defiant devil may care spirit, he’d eaten the broccoli
            from the jar marked “You Fool”, when all the others had chosen the broccoli in the jar labeled “Thank You”. Well, he’d chosen it, there was no blaming anyone else for it, after all. But the effects had all but worn off, and he was starting to get the old familiar itch to travel again, to explore.

            “You can go in any direction you want” he heard himself say as he mentally transported himself back to a scene in his Story. “You’ll always be at the centre of everything.”

            How very strange that he’d forgotten that. That brocolli was powerful stuff.

            “You interpret the signs however you want to…” the voice of Sanso In Another Scene continued, “and then you act on it. And I’ll tell you this as well, it’s about time you stopped rehashing Old Scenes and started exploring some new ones. Just go, go now! Put one foot in front of the other, and just go ~ go back into the cave.”

            Sanso was on the verge of protesting that he didn’t have a plan, and then remembered how much he liked surprises.

            For the briefest moment, Sanso wondered if he should leave a note for anyone, or get the laundry in before he set off, or pack a suitcase or something, but decided to start off as he meant to carry on ~ alone, impulsive and free to wander the world of his own making.

            ~~~

            There was a large black cow blocking the entrance to the cave. The cow was dead and bloated, although it hadn’t started to smell yet. Sanso wondered whether it was a sign, and decided that it was. It would be rather pointless to create a large dead cow blocking the cave entrance if it had no significance to the story, he deduced, although he hadn’t yet worked out an appropriate meaning for the sign.

            Weighing up his options, Sanso realized there were several choices he could make. He could delete the previous paragraph, and simply walk into the cave. He could wait until the cow decomposed, and then simply climb over the bones. He could wander around until he found another cave entrance, or simply teleport himself into the cave behind the cow.

            However, the only option that he could think of that would include the Meaning of the Dead Cow Blocking The Cave Entrance would be to stay with the cow until the meaning had been found. If he ignored the cow, he might be Missing An Important Meaning. Notwithstanding, the meaning may turn up later, whether he forgot about it or not.

            Sanso decided to sit and meditate on the Meaning of the Cow before proceeding. He could change his mind at any moment if he got bored.

            #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!”

            #2644

            In reply to: Strings of Nines

            Yurick was feeling a whole new stream of possibilities open.
            As always, it felt like the story they were writing was full of clues. He even had a wonderful dream with a huge hovering dragon made of a ball of energy snow from all of his friends.

            The white horse he’d made before was already manifesting in a new issue of Crisp… Fun ahead!

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