Search Results for 'sorry'

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  • #1289
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Arona flung her paintbrush to the ground in a fit of rage.

      Oy Missy, you be careful with that! Talk about ungrateful! Don’t expect any more of MY whiskers for your next brush! tutted Mandrake disapprovingly.

      I’m USELESS! she shouted dramatically, I GIVE UP!

      Does that mean i can put my clothes back on? Vincentius queried tentatively. It’s a bit on the chilly side now the sun has gone.

      Arona glared at him. You stay where you are! she snarled.

      :fleuron:

      A moment later she sighed and, bending down slowly, picked up the brush from ground where she had flung it.

      Sorry Vincentius.

      And someone else you would like to apologise to perhaps? queried Mandrake, raising an elegant eyebrow. And, might I remind you dear Arona, I seem to remember you saying something about fun?

      #2186
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “Speaking of infinite details,” said Björn who was watching a circus program with a muscular looking man who balancing his contortionist partner who was attempting to balance plants on her face.

        “What?” said Iris who was already dozing on the couch.

        “Sorry dear, I was just talking to myself, have nice dreams”, he said, stroking gently her freckled face.

        He continued in his head, slightly dozing off himself.

        “One two, one two. Testing the acoustics… Sounds good.”

        “Funny how these thoughts come in and out… It occurred to me something funny.”

        :fleuron:

        “Can you add a plush toy in your dream?”
        “Oh sure darling. What kind of?”
        “A baby aardvark”

        :fleuron:

        Björn wasn’t very comfortable yet, he started to toss and turn until he realized he was seated on Iris’ plush aardvark. He fondly placed the little soft thing in Iris’ arms and returned to his thoughts.

        “There, it’s inserted…”
        “Now, your reality can be viewed to some extent as the most complex, yet the most simple of assemblage. You may liken it if you will to a room with mirrors (*). Ancient Indian mystics have spoken of Indra’s net where droplets of waters are each reflecting all of the other ones; these are the same images.
        It is not new information to you, the fact that you are seeing your reflection in your world, or that it is a sort of illusion reflecting you, but this is not the point we want to highlight here.

        Consider that the room in which you are is reflected an infinite amount of times in every direction. In a sense, they are all the same. They are you. Now, we come to the interesting part. You may very well decide to explore the room next to you with its shining details, by going through one of these mirrors. Some individuals quite enjoy such explorations, they call it past or future or even probabilities, other dimensions etc. And by moving into the next room, it becomes their present.

        You now realize that you have not really moved, since all rooms reflect only you. And you may want to continue in the direction you are exploring and go into more rooms. It’s alright. But some individuals realize that all rooms are equivalent, and that from where you stand, you can view the point you wish to explore in one part of the mirrors reflections. This is being present. You shift your attention, and expand your vision of the tiny part, rather than moving towards it with great efforts.

        Now, when you are dreaming, the very nature of dreams is the same. It gives you a whole fractal hologram to ponder. You may get carried away by wanting to remember all the tiny details, because in doing so, what you are doing is simply opening rooms upon rooms upon rooms. And more details will be created for you! Or you can simply realize that the details are all contained within your feeling of being present, and standing in the middle of one of these rooms, and not one of them is more important than the next.

        Connect to your feeling, and all the natural movements of your explorations will be automagically connected. And we bid you a nice fractal dream exploration.”

        #1186

        Arona was fretting.

        “Now, what is this all about? Can someone explain me? The purple sand is pretty, the green sky too, however it looks just like an insane dream from a deranged mind having abused smoke of robjane leaves.”

        Framing Irtak —who was having a funny pout on his face— the dragons Heckle and Jeckle were too busy considering with an amused attention the new form and energy field that their progenitor had taken.

        No words were spoken to answer Arona’s plea for answers, but answers were starting to come to them in the form of a bundle of energy which would be difficult to translate in a linear manner.

        They started to understand a few things. That for one, N’meôrl the Nirgual was not here by chance, at this place and time. Again, they had travelled far in the past of the history of their dimension, and events of great importance were in motion, that they were given to witness.

        At first, the flow of information they were having was like a stream they thought they had no control of, but as questions were forming they noticed that it was altering the flow which was then encompassing the answers to those questions.

        Like when Jeckle wondered if he and his twin had big birdies counterparts like this one to merge with, and got the following answer “No. For you are quite new essences fragments, and thus do not yet hold focuses in similar extent to your progenitor.”

        Arona was quite pleased by this new mode of getting answers, especially as she could visibly get the answers she was genuinely looking for, not those coming from questions she was only remotely interested in.

        N’meôrl was showing them also, that unlike him, they were not quite physically focused into that environment, and were not noticed by the small surrounding creatures like the little red scrabs crawling in the sand. They were mainly there to observe and draw their own conclusions, as soon some events would occur.

        As they’d finished absorbing the information, they started to notice a feeling of expectation in the air. N’meôrl conveyed to them that they would have to stay quiet in his peripheral awareness for “they” were coming, and he was on a delicate mission.

        :fleuron:

        Footsteps on the beach.
        A man approaching. He looks like Irtak and Arona, as if he had just come into this alien world from the same door they had taken. But he fails to notice them.

        He stays, facing the deep green waters of the ocean brushing the shore, as if expecting someone.

        A strange buzz starts to fill the space. A point of focused light the size of a pinhole appears in front of him, expands quickly with an elastic quality, and pops with a soft sound, revealing an improbably tall figure under a cloak.

        The man greets the new-comer with deference
        “Master Sinadron
        Jarvis, my good friend.”

        They start to walk on the beach at the unspoken invitation of the one with the smooth voice named Sinadron.

        “So, I’ve been told our little matter is going very well.”
        “Yes, very well, Master; I am deeply grateful for your intervention; without your help I’ve been told, my dear would not have been allowed to…”
        “Let’s not talk of such things any longer; it was such a delight to help two sweet young souls so deeply in love”

        Somehow, despite the words of kindness which are slithering with ease, the invisible witness got the uncanny feeling that they are but a deceptive fragment of the truth.

        “Now. Tell me”, the one named Sinadron continues in a mellifluous voice “Why have you called me for?”
        “The settlement you have suggested us to start on this land…”
        “Yes, I am aware, please go to the point instead of labouring things I am well aware of.” The voice had sharpened a bit.
        “I am sorry Master.”
        “Continue”
        “There is a growing dissent that…”
        “And from who that shall come?”
        “Err… I hear Pelorus has spoken to the Zentauras…”
        “Pelorus is but a nuisance.” The voice wasn’t asking for contradiction, though an imperceptible grin was floating on the half-hidden face.
        He continued “But I shall help you, once again
        “Master, you are too generous…”
        “Let me finish. I will provide you with more men and women, willing to start a new life under your command, to help you grow your settlement. There are a few slaves on the Duane, that place from where you come who will do great.”
        “Master…”
        “They will be there in an hexade. Make sure you stand your ground until then, even if that means confronting those nasty Zentauras.”

        And without waiting for the confused thanks, he disappeared, grinning widely.

        #1165

        on a Yukailli Airlines Flyboat, Cruise#557
        Long Pong vicinity, International Waters, October 2008

        “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are sorry to tell you that for unexpected reason, the flight has been rerouted to Auckland, New Zealand. Our final destination, Tikfijikoo Island is under strict quarantine for an unknown…

        — “WHAT?!” Dory was drawn out of her clouds contemplation by the voice of Ignoratio Elenchi
        — “Shhht!” Becky commanded her a bit rudely.

        Then, after the voice of the captain faded out in an incomprehensible muddle, “Oh, great! Now, we didn’t get what’s happening…”
        “Oh, as if we care for the reasons…” Dory said pragmatically. “Such a strange creating we did this time. I was so expecting to get to this island, and now it’s closed to tourists?”
        “Don’t worry, we may get there later… At least, this time we got to board on this strange airline, even if just for a round trip.”
        “Good point, Beck’!”

        Then, as if a sudden idea had just stuck her she added with a gleam in her eyes “Hey, that’s a really nice creating actually; we may be back home just in time for Day of the Dead celebrations…”

        Sometimes things seemed to work in cycles and round trips she thought to herself…

        #94
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Best known in Oorth (Dimension of Ooh) for his best selloor Words of Comfort for the Descending, a groot philosoopher and wool of wisdoom, Erwin P Lemone has made a few delightful and abysmally profoond aphorisms that needed a proper anthology.

          Be it the place for such an endeavoor.

          A few quotes

          “Sometimes it takes a single sniggly thorny path to go through to reach Elysian avenues much more efficiently” — ID850

          “rainy wedding, merry marriage” — ID1183

          “Better speak nonsense than be dead or sorry” — ID1644

          “It’s not the writer’s job to piece the stuff life is made of together, it’s the job of the reader.” — ID1661

          “A new-born book is like a little baby, except it smells only of ink, and doesn’t make spurious sounds” (said at an interview with journalist Finckle Frettle on Oo-TV)

          #1027

          She was the first to notice.

          First there was a loud bang, that she perceived as a shock wave rippling all around.

          Then, she felt a strange flabby thing with bat arms fall into the ocean, while the other energy was coming their ways. “Wow,” she couldn’t help but think; “they’re having unusual nightly activities around for such a small isolated island.”

          The dog resting by the fire got alerted then, and tried to wake up the others. But apparently, they seemed oblivious to it.

          Then, something stranger happened. The small white rabbit started to talk, as if it had been aware all along.
          “It’ll take a while for him to see you again Kay, just don’t yap like a silly dog… Besides, you’ll disturb our guests”
          “Guests?” the dog answered back.

          The moment after, the rabbit had disappeared from the girl’s lap, and was standing between her and the dog.
          “Welcome, Balbina”, he told her.

          “How do you know my name?” she was aghast, unable to say if it was for the talking rabbit, or for the fact it knew her name.
          Unperturbed, it continued “It’s a busy night. There are lots of things happening, and we hope you’ll stick around. It may be helpful for our friends here.”
          “Er… why not… I mean, yes, sure. And you are?”
          Yuki, at your service. I’m not really a rabbit of course, but that form is convenient”
          “And cute too…” she said tentatively
          “Thank you”

          Balbina had never thought a rabbit could blush, but she would have bet it was the closest thing to a blushing rabbit she had just witnessed.

          “Sorry to interrupt you,” Kay said, but who are the other guests?

          a shrilling voice came as an answer OOOOooohh a campfire! How cuty pooh! Wait till Sha and Glo see that, we could have some roasted marshmallows and pork chops! I’m feeling soooo hungry…”

          “Great… So much for our little secret expedition,” Claude sighed as he woke up.

          #997
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Bloody Hell Tina! hissed Becky indignantly. Will you listen? It isn’t a limerick. I am very kindly giving you some handy hints on how to air kiss!! And you can tell Al I heard that!

            Oh! Sorry Beck! said dear Tina, feeling genuinely remorseful at her mistake. Oh please, do tell!

            Hmmmph, well okay then, said Becky, mollified by Tina’s sweet apology. Right, well the trick is you have to be decisive. I know you will find that bit hard, but it is the floundering and indecision which causes the accidents.

            #996
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Hang on Al!, said Tina, although there was really no need as Al, still pondering, did not seem to be in any particular hurry to enlighten her on all this I-Ching business. I think Becky is trying to telepathically communicate a limerick to me.

              Oh well, said Al philosophically, Better to speak nonsense than to be dead or sorry.

              #995
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Elizabeth knew there must be something profoond in today’s “Words of Comfort for the Descending” quotation, after all, it was a Lemone quote:

                Better speak nonsense than be dead or sorry

                But for the life of her she could not find the significance. She sighed. Her brain felt so lifeless lately.

                #934
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  New Venice, March 2034

                  After so many “haven’t been on my honeymoon yet!” ( ¹² ) , Becky was relieved to see that she had fast-forwarded time so nicely that, finally, in a few hours of time now, they would depart for Sri Lanka.

                  Of course, the last events with her wavering in different probabilities, and manifesting more of what she had tried —almost by reflex— to avoid were still on her mind. She had felt a bit sorry for Sean, but she knew all along that the choices were hers, and worrying unduly about others, even if that was about her dear spouse, wouldn’t be efficient at all, needless to say not even slightly helpful.
                  She had to concentrate more on the way she wanted to express herself. That way, she knew she would draw to her the perfectly appropriate situations —while the less than appealing stuff would recede in the background under a good dose of acceptance fairy dust.

                  Though still a bit weary of her unexpected pregnancy from a future traveler who hadn’t even had the tact to propose her to elope with him, her minds were fresh and excited as ever at the thought of hopping like a daft goat on the Lion’s Rock in Sigiriya. And her good mood seemed to have an infectious effect on Sean who hadn’t even inquired of what local liquor there would be on the island. Perhaps the aura of the spiritual region had already blessed Sean with some renewed optimism.

                  As she was fondly stuffing her skimpy honeymoon outfit in the already ready to burst piece of luggage, she smiled blissfully, remembering all of a sudden how she had forgotten to be gentle with herself these past few days, and how nice it was to treat herself with shiny and twinkling shards of spicy new adventures.
                  She could indeed feel the excitement of doing some psychic archeology (as her step-mother used to call that) on these spots full of collective energies that she hadn’t had the taste of in many months.

                  #886

                  Is something bothering you Franiel? You look a bit perturbed.Phoebe was watching him intently.

                  Oh sorry, yeah, I was just thinking about Aum Geog. I really should have sent him a message, you know about losing the chalice.

                  Phoebe looked thoughtful. Well we could send a message via one of the Fincheons if it would set your conscience at ease.

                  Fincheons? Those are those really beautiful silver birds aren’t they?

                  That’s right, they are spectacular aren’t they! I have a pair I use for sending messages on occasion.

                  Oh great! Franiel looked immensely relieved. I will go and write a note to him them. He won’t be happy though, I am fairly certain of that.

                  Although … silly me. Would you like to use the phone to call him? It would be much quicker. Honestly sometimes I think I am living in the dark ages, not 2008! chuckled Phoebe merrily.

                  Franiel laughed with her. Oh I know just what you mean!

                  Oh by the way, said Phoebe, there’s a motorbike in the garage. It hasn’t been used for years, but if you can get it going, you are most welcome to use it.

                  #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!

                  #809

                  Adorning the enormous wooden door of Chesterhope Mansion was a heavy bronze knocker in the shape of an ornate dragon. The door stood slightly open.

                  Hello! Anyone there! Franiel called out several times, each time pushing the door open wider.

                  Only an echoey silence responded.

                  Franiel mindfully removed his boots. With a growing sense of excitement, as well as some slight trepidation if the truth be told, he entered the massive entrance hall. A black marble statue of a tiger reminded him curiously of his dream. To the left and right were doors, but after knocking gently, he found these to be locked.

                  In the distance someone began to play the piano, a slow and simple melody. Franiel followed the faint sound to the door at the end of the hallway. He entered a massive dining room, in the center of which stood a very long table with 12 highbacked chairs. The furniture was heavy and dark, but sunlight streaming in through the window mercifully lightened the atmosphere.

                  Crossing the room he entered the rear parlour from whence came the music. A woman sat with her back to him playing an upright piano. She had long grey hair, worn loose down her back. Franiel noticed how thin she was, and how straight she sat as her long fingers delicately caressed the keys.

                  Hesitantly he knocked, not wishing to startle her. She stopped playing and turned towards him. Her face was gaunt, and such a pale colour, he found himself wondering if it had been a long time since she had seen the light of day. But her eyes were alive, bright and intense, and she did not seem awfully surprised to see him there.

                  Hello she said, Who are you? I don’t think I have seen you here before.

                  I am Franiel. I am sorry to arrive so unexpectedly … he began

                  Oh no! you mustn’t be sorry, the woman interrupted, jumping up with a speed and agility which surprised Franiel given her otherwise frail appearance. She rushed over to him and then reached out and lightly touched his cheek. A look of wonder crossed her face and she stepped back.

                  Oh my goodness! You are real! she exclaimed in astonishment. I thought you were one of the others.

                  #795

                  — Sorry for the confusion, the voice of Leörmn said, there may have been some traffic jam along the portal’s tunnel… I think we lost track of time somewhat.
                  — But we’re arrived, aren’t we? asked Arona, still a bit grumpy about the cave moving.
                  — Mmm, I suppose so. If my calculations are correct, we are. Although…
                  — What?!
                  Arona was starting to wonder what could possibly go more mind-boggling than it already was…
                  Leormn puffed into a small-sized teal-bellied gyucko (a sort a cutie reptipooh) and started to wiggle away…
                  — Have honey do’s, see you in a while!

                  — Grumpf, always wiggling out this one… grumbled Arona.
                  And where did they all go now? It seemed like once again, she had been left alone. Good riddance, better enjoy the calm before they come back.

                  :fleuron:

                  Malvina was enjoying this new place where she was in. She had felt that, in other Worlds, some of her other attentions had been moving too. Especially one who was having great funnie in her new housie which was harbouring a portal in a very ancient tree. And for most of these attentions, it was also a time of reunion with dear ones, and reactivation of a new kind of power.
                  Perhaps the time was now for her too arrived, to reunite with her Sisters.

                  Only thing was that, where she was now at this precise moment, her Sisters were not yet born…
                  Interestingly, for a reason that only the mind of a century old wise dragon like Leormn knew —if she would trust it not to be a simple stroke of inattention and bad luck as he would try to make it appear— she was undoubtedly right where she had thought to be, a small island in the Eastern coastal area of Lan’Ork in the vicinity of the Marshes of Doom.
                  Except that it was the Legendary Past…

                  #754
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    In the sparsely furnished room that V’ass had allocated him on the small building next to the clinic, Gabriele Ferrari, local Eastern Arch-Agent for the Confregation, was lying bare-chest on his bed. Despite the heat outside, the dark hair on his chest, and the lack of air-conditioning in the room, he was not sweating —the result of a total control on his chakras, a training the completion of which constituted the first requirement in accessing to the upper echelon of Arch-Agent.

                    That Agent V was promising, he could tell. She was still a bit wayward and impulsive in her decisions, but spontaneity was an asset in their job. Mmm, better not get distracted now. Plan B was at stake.

                    :fleuron: :fleuron: :fleuron:

                    A few years before, Roma, Italy, at The Confregation Headquarters

                    — I’m afraid this Dr B. isn’t very reliable. We got reports from the investigations you commissioned on his past, and upon further study of his Internet connections that we…
                    — Spare me the details, Agent W.
                    — Yes Principate, sorry Principate.
                    — Thing is he has shown some mental instabilities, and early signs of schizophrenia.
                    — Mmm… We both know schizophrenia is just a pathological sign of accessing other aspects of self… Nothing that can’t be dealt with with appropriate measures.
                    — Yes Principate
                    — Agent W, you know what is as stake, right?
                    — Err…
                    — Let me explain to you very clearly and simply Agent W. The artifact that we arranged for Dr B. to find and access the information sealed into it, this artifact, Agent W, is of utmost importance. That artifact is of course well encapsulated into the computer machinery we have provided the Doctor unbeknown to him… It is thus very important that you ensure the good progression of these works. But, despite his… de-ranged mind, as you may say… Dr B. is a brilliant scientist, and his works must proceed at all cost. If need be, send him a local agent to make sure of that.
                    — Yes Principate.

                    :fleuron2:

                    Principate Haniel was quite concerned.
                    It was a mere handful of years that thanks to the progress of computers they had managed to decipher parts of the encoded informations. The crystal skull that the Confregation had retrieved centuries ago from the greed and ignorance of Crusaders had waited long before they could start to be privy of its secrets. Centuries of patience would not be thwarted by mere negligence.
                    Strangely the information they had deciphered were related to genetic encodings. The genome decryption of most of Earth species had not yet matched the pattern that was found inside the chunk of information until very recently, in an unexpected breed of spiders…

                    Hoperfully Agent W would take the appropriate measures, Principate Haniel smiled ethereally. She would see to that.

                    :fleuron2:

                    Auckland, New Zealand, a week later

                    — Agent V.
                    — Agent W. Arch-Agent G.
                    — We’ve be summoning you for some urgent matter that requires a local assistance. Arch-Agent G. here has advised that your service would be the most appropriate for this delicate matter. Are you aware of the dossier Operation Spider ?
                    — Yes Agent W. Arch-Agent G has most kindly forwarded to me the details.
                    — You’ll be leaving for the island at the end of the week, after you’ve been briefed on the most sensitive details.
                    — Details Agent W? I thought everything was in the dossier?
                    — There is a backup plan that has been devised from our best advised consultagents. Let’s call it Plan B for the moment. B as Bee-hive.
                    — Very well Agent W.

                    #751

                    Why you supercilious little prout! said the Mummy

                    Steady on Sasha, I don’t think I deserve that. I am a great believer in personal choice. You chose to be part of my experiments didn’t you? Did anyone force you to come here? His voice started to raise petulently. Are you a victim Sasha? Just because one small thing went wrong, an accident, no more and no less.

                    If it wasn’t for these damn bandages I would laugh.

                    Dr Bronkelhampton threw his hands in the air in vexation. Try and see the big picture Sasha dear. How many times have I told you now? My God we have been through this over and over again. Are you listening Sasha? All you can think about is yourself and your own petty little life. You are dead, you need to accept this and move on.

                    Silence.

                    Sasha? … Talk to me Sasha dear one.

                    Dr Bronkelhampton? Nurse Bellamy tapped lightly on the office door, and entered cautiously. She could hear Chris talking to himself, again. It was nothing new, he spent hours closeted in his office lately. Though today she started in shocked surprise when she saw him, the yellow wig from the early days of the clinic was perched precariously on top of his bald head, garish make-up roughly applied, yet not hiding the dark blue circles under his blood-shot eyes.

                    He glared at her. Can you not see I am with a client, Nurse Bellamy?

                    She cast her eyes reflexively around the small office, although she did not need to look. It was bare save for a pot plant and that dreadful mummy propped up in the corner of the room.

                    I am worried about you, Chris.

                    He slammed his fist on the desk and turned away from her, staring moodily out the window.

                    Nurse Bellamy’s face reddened with emotion, she struggled to hold back her tears as all the anxiety of the last week threatened to overwhelm her. She reminded herself of the words of her dear nursing tutor Edwardo Lemenox. Always remember your calling as a nurse. When the road seems difficult, take a deep breath and remind yourself you are perfect.

                    She took a deep breath.

                    I am sorry, I mean Dr Bronkelhampton … I need to inform you that three new clients are expected tomorrow …. and we have two here waiting for their treatment to start … and I can’t entertain them for much longer, they are getting restless. Veranassessee is up to no good, and, Nurse Bellamy pursed her lips for a moment in annoyance .. and now she has a gentleman friend here.

                    Dr Bronkelhampton turned towards her quickly, the wig falling off in the process, She has a gentleman friend? Here on the island? Who?

                    Nurse Bellamy’s face reddened even more as she remembered her encounter with the drop-dead gorgeous stranger, the way he had looked into her eyes as he asked where he might find Veranassessee, goodness, she had nearly dropped her coconuts.

                    #746

                    My God, what the fuck is that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

                    :fleuron:

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

                    #743
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

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

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

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

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

                      :fleuron:

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

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

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

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

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

                      #737

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

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

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

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

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

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

                      Sure Ms Tattler, where is the clooh-box?

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

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

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

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

                      rainy wedding, merry marriage

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

                      #736
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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