Search Results for 'tart'

“I don’t really know, Godfrey, do I have to have you DO something? I’m not even sure what the word thread means anymore, there seem to be so many threads already everywhere. Can we start a cloth instead?”

“A bloody cloth?” Godfrey asked, scratching his balls. “And I am not scratching my balls, Lizzie, what on earth did you say that for?!”

“No idea, was it a sync?”

Evangeline Spiggot sat outside the DDT bosses office, nervously twiddling her pony tail. She had no idea why she’d been summoned, but the tone of the memo was ominous. Eventually her boss, The Right Honourable B. F. Deale, was ready to see her.

“What ho!” said Evangeline, in an effort to sound breezy and efficient.

B.F. Deale glared. “Can you explain yourself?” he asked grimly.

“Why, yes, sir! Sumari belonging, Ilda aligned, politic….”

“I’m talking about DDT!” he shouted. “You’ve been diverting all our disaster damage calls to that ridiculous channeling show!”

“Ah” she replied, “Yes, well, it seemed much more fun.”

“Ah” replied B.F. Deale, momentarily non plussed. When he’d finsished unnecesarily shuffling some papers around on his desk, he continued. “Well, what about the disaster damage team? Hhhm? How are they supposed to, er, deal with disasters if they don’t even know about them?”

Evangeline paused, giving the impression that she was deep in thought. In actual fact, she was deep in no thought, due to the influence of the Dead Dick Tracy channeled messages.

“Well, sir, perhaps this indicates a changing trend towards having more fun and less disasters? Perhaps we could diversify, start our own Fun Department?”

“By George, I think you’re on to something, Spiggot! I will hire someone to investigate this trend.”

“Might I suggest Blithe Gambol, P.I.? Very hightly recommended, so I hear.”

Dear OW’s and Favourite Daughter,

I had a dream last night. It went like this . . . . I was in the garden when I noticed an alien space ship coming down from a great height above me. It was humming, humm, hummm, humming. Like that. There was a smell of old cabbages and kitty litter.

It landed a few feet away from me. It was like a saucer and coloured olive green. A door opened on the underside and a ladder lowered. The ladder was made of wood, which surprised me. The aliens started down the ladder. They had no arms or legs. Just heads. They came down the ladder using their lips.

There were eight of them. The leader (at least I took it to be their leader as he had the biggest head) approached me. He said “Where can we get some hats ?”

Next thing I remember I was in the back of a pickup truck eating a prawn cocktail. Next to me sitting on some old sacks was the head alien slurping down uncooked carrots direct from the tin.

He said to me “We would like you to make a tv commercial for us”.

Then I woke up.

I’m afraid to report this encounter with the third kind to the authorities in case they just laugh at me.

I need your advice on this one. What should I do ?

Uncle Garnet

Sadness, whilst not being entirely unheard of, was alot more uncommon during the days of the Gardenation. The weather was kindness itself, and everyone, naturally enough, was at liberty to grow whatever they wanted in their gardens. There were no rules and regulations in the Gardenation; it worked on a sort of expanded “pay forward” system, not that there was any pay, or forward thinking for that matter, involved. The genesis of the new collaberation of independant garden nations (although it was actually more of a renaissance, simultaneous time notwithstanding) had come about as a result of the widespread discontent of the populace with all of the political parties, in just about every nation on the planet.

During a particularly wild and raucous bridge tart birthday party (they were always having birthday parties; it was always somebody’s birthday somewhere, after all) the avant garde shift pioneers, as well as the twelve Wisp rats, came up with a plan ~ of sorts. It was more of an imaginative play really.

One of the children had been bemoaning the fact that his friend in another nation could grow whatever he wanted in his garden, and he couldn’t, in his own nation. He asked the bridge tarts if they could create a new nation, from all the independant garden nations all over the world. The bridge tarts decided that it was a fine idea and set about bridging the independant garden nations all over the world together, in energy.

Some of the bridge tarts worked on the connecting links between the garden nations all over the globe, and some of the bridge tarts were instrumental in innovative new gardening ideas. One of them experimented with pulling funny faces at the seedlings, which resulted in bizarre comical blooms. New ideas bounced from one gardenation to another, originating you might say in all gardenations at the same time, so connected were they in energy.

Given sufficient motivation, the Gardenation might have started sooner ~ notwithstanding simultaneous time. Or perhaps they already did.

Meanwhile, however, the bridge tarts were very busy. There was plenty of tartying and bridging going on in the Elsespace arrangement, and out of it.

Lilac was rendered momentarily speechless by Nastytart’s words. Picking up her Lee Mon novel, “Making Sense in a Crazy World” she opened it at random:

Maybe you’re not ready for the profound revelation of utter sense?

Of course! That was it. She was not ready!

“Are you saying that all we need is a giant blinking teabag?” inquired Lilac politely.

“Yeah, I think if you get the guage right on the net, it should work like a dream.”

“And what do we do with a giant teabag full of volcano dust?”

“Lava dust tea? Are you kidding? Sells like hotcakes in some dimensions. The bridge tarts are always smuggling it through portals.”

Suddenly it all became clear to Nasturtium. The Releasing of the Bird had gone awry with The Tampering of The Code. The giant invisible spider web tea bag that was to enclose all that annoying blubbit nonsense that was wreaking havoc all over Peasland had blinked out while nobody was focused on it.

Obviously, as any well versed bridge tart would know, it could just as easily blink back in.

Dealea Flare was usually one of the most accomplished bridge tarts, so it was a surprise to hear that she’d apparently disappeared whilst day tripping in the Neroli dimension.

The Peasland Natarteum was a sort of time travelling portello in the Elsespace Arrangement, staffed by bridge tarts. Just about everyone had focuses as bridge tarts, it was quite a group focus. They were always merging and shape shifting and what not, so it was hard to pin anyone down. Sometimes, however, it was rather obvious.

“There’s no other way” said Lilac. “We must bring in the Bridge Tarts.”

A collective gasp could be heard ricocheting around the valleys as the news travelled, gasp by gasp.

Lucius Ludicrus had just arrived at the natarteum when he fainted.

“Great idea, Natartium!” encouraged Lilac. “Blow those blubbit buggers away!”