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  • “Godfrey, she’s doing it on purpose now, what am I going to do with her?” Godfrey turned and frowned at Ann, pausing in the doorway. “Who’s doing what, Ann?” he sighed. “Oh never mind Godfrey, bugger off if you can’t be bothered” Ann said crossly, and then added “You know exactly what I’m talking about, it’s Franlise, ... · ID #2552 (continued)
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  • #3334

    “Hence the importance of complimenting a child on his first poops” were the concluding words of the lecture by Choanna Doyle, PhD, under a loud burst of applause.

    Sadie was pleased to have joined the Happiness Institute alumni’s yearly conference and was handling leaflets to the parents who were thinking about enrolling their children.

    When everyone had left the blue and purple amphitheatre, decorated with pink ribbons and heart-shaped reflective balloons, she went back behind the pulpit to gather her bag, only to be startled by Choanna, who was still here while she was expected in the main hall for her book signing.

    “Interesting lecture” Sadie said, as a way to sound polite, as the doctor was probably more used to, and expecting over the top fan reactions.

    “Oh, not that interesting, but thank you for your polite protestations of interest” she said with a soft smile.

    Sadie couldn’t help but blush, being at a loss for words.

    “The crap…” Choanna said
    “What?!” Sadie was confused
    “I guess, that’s the crap that got you off. It does the same for most people. The poop comment is actually quite pertinent.”
    “I don’t doubt that.” Sadie didn’t know what to say, but was sure she wasn’t too keen on more poop conversation. When she’d came back to her apartment after being absent for more than a week in linear time during her network assignment, her pet rabbit had playfully hidden bits everywhere and it had taken her days to get rid ot them, and of the smell.

    But Choanna chose to ignore the cue, and continued “you have to acknowledge this is serious business for the children, it’s their first real creation. This is an important development step for the future adult.”
    Sadie nodded politely, dying to roll her eyes, but sending waves of hearts instead, to cancel out any potential poop jinx.
    “Later, you see, it also will help the adult to not throw in the towel at the first failure. Huhu, I like to quote this analogy, it’s like a sculptor who would throw a lump of clay on the ground and immediately complain that it didn’t turn out well at the first try…”

    Sadie wanted to leave, and butted in a timid “Sorry, but…”

    “Exactly. People are always sorry, but you see, I did something very interesting today. I have decided to only speak of it if it synched with the events of the day, and you provided me with the synch when I saw you flinch at the bottled water earlier during my presentation. Did you know that blind tests of the best tasting water consistently ranked tap water the tastiest ? Now, sewers and poop now seem relevant all of a sudden…”

    “I’m getting late for my signing, that was nice talking to you!” she concluded mysteriously before leaving in a huff “But think about it!”

    What a bizarre yet endearingly odd mad woman this one, bless her heart… was all Sadie could think after the dust had settled in her wake. And that blessed tart conveniently forgot to mention that interesting thing of hers…

    #3332

    The bell rang twice. Nobody was giving any sign of opening, until a lanky lad came at the door to open it, in long slow dragging strides on the carpeted floor.

    “We’re here for the audition” an excited face pressed on the glass door, staining it with purple lipsticky marks.

    The lad discreetly rolled his eyes, looked right and left, as if checking for some unseen danger, then released the magnetic lock. It was stuck, so he gave a yank and the door flung open, almost propelling the woman, and a child inside.

    “This way” the lad showed them, guiding them in unnerving slow motion towards a room on the higher floor of the loft. A dozen of people were already waiting here. The lad showed them the ticket dispenser, and the child with the woman understood before her they had to pick one. 39.

    The woman brushed the hair of the child compulsively and fought against invisible specks of dust on his coat, before they would sit.

    “Twenty two.”
    “Twenty. Two.”

    At the seat next to them, a child raised from his place, his mother pushing him towards the voice. This was as far as she could go with him.

    After the child had disappeared in the next room, the purple lipstick woman leaned towards the lonely mother and started to talk to her in brisk hushed voice.
    “You must be so proud… I’m proud too.”
    Noticing reproaching looks from the others, she lowered her voice more.
    “I was so excited when I heard about it… So many years and now. Imagine that, my son could become his disciple, imagine, his one and only disciple in years…”

    The other woman, who’d been patiently hearing the other one’s cackling suddenly turned red and replied in a voice that bore the certainty of a death sentence:
    “Oh, but make no mistake M’am, I have nothing against your son, but no one will beat my Paul to it.”

    #3331

    “I’m so booooored” Amar sighed, after his eleventh 5-minute break of the morning was over.
    He looked at his polished nails, then at his two companions.
    “It’s so clean we could eat on that damn sewer’s floor, you should stop cleaning! Come on!”

    Reginald looked at him with pursed lips and a fist firmly planted on his hips “And, you are suggesting somethin’, or are you just going to rub it in some more?”

    “Hell yeah, if we’re going to be stuck here, we could redecorate, and make this place a bit more interesting. I’m thinking an underground club, with art deco sculptures and some bit of goth in the back, a stage with fat pole dancers, a disco ball and silver shimmer metallic glowing paint,… Don’t get me started!”

    “Sounds like a lot of work…” Reginald replied after a moment, giving no hint he was buying it.
    “But then, we ain’t got much to do, and I’ll be dying of boredom if we don’t shake this thing up. Count me in!”

    #3330

    With the aid of the holographic map, Irina, Mr R and little Greenie have been exploring the island.
    The next day they found a crashed plane from Aeroflot, not very far from their own landing spot. It was half burried in the mud and covered in green mossy vegetation. The doors were open as an irresistible invitation to enter.

    “A surprise, Mr R. I thought that this place was on your map. If I remember well, it didn’t show such an object.”
    “Forgive me, madam, indeed this plane wasn’t there when I triangulated the map I showed you.”
    “You mean it’s fresh ?” Irina’s voice seemed to suddenly carry some interest. “Maybe we can find some survivors”, she added, already doubting it considering all the moss on teh metallic shell.
    “I’m afraid we won’t, madam. I didn’t want to bother you with that little detail until I was sure. There are objects on this island that only appear after a certain date. Have you noticed it also happens with the vegetation and the insects ?”
    Irina pouted, “I prefer leaving that to your expertise.”
    “Of course, madam”, said the robot, affable. “The paradox is…”
    “Another paradox ? How interesting.”
    “…that it doesn’t seem to include us, or that little person.”
    “Any idea what the implications are ?” Irina began to wonder if there was any danger of being stuck permanently on this island.
    “I have several hypothesis”, he began, “The most probable is the lost room hypothesis. We arrived there through time space displacement and are not a natural part of this environment, hence we don’t change with its natural environment or inhabitants because we are not under it’s time sequence according to the Lehmon’s law.”

    Irina pouted. She looked at little greenie and thought of the implications about how their new friend arrived there. Whenre did she come from ? For her to be a bog mummy, she must have been there a long time. Or did she arrived already bogged ?
    Something caught her attention about the plane and distracted her of further thinking about the subject of their continuity risk in this place. The logo of the plane looked not so oldish.
    “Mr R. ? What do you think the date of the crash was ?”
    “The plane was lost in 2112.”

    Without further thought about safety, she entered the plane, followed first by little Greenie as she have been calling her new protegee, and by the robot who despite still talking about technicalities of accidental space time crossing theory, had turned on his speleo lights.

    Interestingly enough, Irina noted the clothes on the chairs or in the alleyways, here a pair of glasses, there a necklace, all layered as if the person wearing them had been puffed away.

    “Well, well, what have we here ? The light Mr R, please,” said Irina with as much excitement as a snail. He obliged her with his usual professionalism, revealing a teal blue scarf with pistachio green spirals. She took the cloth and stretched it to have a better look. It was one of those artistic kind of hippy abstract patterns connecting you to the cosmos.
    “I can’t think of anybody who would buy that thing, maybe she stole it from one of those duty free shops before they took off,” she said as petulantly as a pitfall trap.
    “Come here little Greenie, it’s time to make you pretty.”

    Irina did not have the chance to play with dolls when she was a kid, she didn’t know if she had some psychological lack or a bad doyle dating from that unremembered period of her life. She had compensated by toying with real people, playing with their emotions and deeper needs, or what they thought they needed. She became an expert at manipulating others, which gave her her first job in insurances, and then in the secret services. But then, she dealt with adults, showing emotions, or a certain level of brain activity. She wasn’t used to children stored in bogs.

    She tried to put the scarf on Greenie’s head, and to smile like she had seen people do in the movies. Although something unexpected happened. Greenie became suddenly distressed and agitated. Then, she punched Irina in the face and began to mumble incoherent things.
    That child is stronger than I thought. And at the same time, she noticed a name in that gibberish. Didnt she just shout : “I frigging love you, Sadie Merrie.”

    “Her brainwave is showing unusual activity”, stated Mr R. “And my sensors indicate the presence has returned, with some friends. They just appeared outside of the plane.”

    #3328

    Their new found green protegee finally awoke thanks to Mr R. meticulous care.
    They tried to talk but to Irina’s dismay got no reaction at all. After a few hours, the greenie, as she was calling the creature, was following Irina everywhere. Which could be quite irritating when she needed intimacy.

    “Have you scanned its brain, Mr R. ?” asked Irina. “It doesn’t seem quite normal.”
    “I’ve been monitoring her vitals ever since we found her. She’s in perfect health, but it appears that hearing us talk does not trigger the usual areas in her brain.”
    “Are you sure it’s a her ?” asked Irina dubiously, “She doesn’t have boobs”.
    “She’s a younger model, madam. It appears she was quite young when she was mummified, Probably around the age of ten to twelve. Young human female usually develop bosom after puberty.”
    “I know that”, she snapped. “I just don’t remember myself without boobs.”
    Mr R. searched in his databank for some smart reply, but he preferred not to offer her one of the latest memory treatment.

    #3327

    Cheung Lok gave a look at the arched back massaging his feet. There was nothing enjoyable about it, he thought, unlike what many of his friends who loved a good foot massage said about it.
    It was hurting like being trampled by a million wild rhinos, and the release of pain was even painful enough to not be enjoyable.
    He had no choice, it was part of the social acts expected from him, and in that precise moment also a cover to get some particular piece of information.

    An ugly person wearing outrageous make-up arrived on the seat next to him, making it crack like a pack of cheap matches, the arms of the chair protruding in the middle of the enormous waist.
    Without a word spoken, he received the key, and was thankful that he didn’t need to stay longer.

    He paid the boss with some cash, and left silently in the turmoil of the city.
    He signalled the driver he’d walk to the office. Another peculiarity, as usually officials with his rank would never walk unless under extreme necessity, which was the same as saying never. But he enjoyed walking in the Chinese parts of the city, there were all sorts of smells and activity, it was never dull.

    He had too laugh at the insane number of beauty parlours and salons. For all he could tell, either there weren’t enough of them, or they weren’t doing a good job.
    For once, it had little to do with the robots replacing human attendants; massage and beauty parlours had been the most resistant to change, and for now, most still employed human personnel. That meant, there was still a large market share escaping the Corporation, and the prototype that Irina stole was supposed to change all that. He had to retrieve it by all means.

    #3325

    “You call that a contract…” Reginald and his two friends, to varying degrees, managed to keep queenly looks in their royal blue dungarees. “I call that being royally fucked…”

    “Oh shut up and mop!” Cedric had become the most sullen and despondent about the whole thing, and would only reply by short sentences.

    Amar was the most philosophical about the whole situation “Let’s see it that way, cleaning up the Time Sewers isn’t so bad; they’re no longer in use, we ain’t got nobody on our backs,… the pay isn’t fabulous, but we are!”

    “Nobody heard about Linda? or Sadie?” Amar’s question was interrupted by a call on Cedric’s phone. His mother again.

    When he hung up, Amar resumed his litany of questions and monologue, as an excuse for not mopping around. “Still haven’t told your mum, hmmm?”

    Cedric ignored the last question “No, I haven’t heard about Linda Fucking Pol, or Sadie. Bitches.”

    #3323

    The stench of burning thatch filled the scorched air and stung their eyes as they ran towards the river. Fanella struggled to keep up with Sanso, clutching tightly to his arm, sometimes losing her footing in her flimsy sandals and bashing her bare knees on the cobblestones. “Lucky this great fire is a distraction from your unseemly attire, young miss” said Sanso, “Your naked legs are so arousing.” While appreciating Fanella’s charming thighs, Sanso failed to notice that his chopsticks were on fire. A spark had ignited them and they flared bright orange as he threw them down. Within moments they were obliterated into scattered ash. “Chop Chop Cheung Lok, now catch me if you can!” Sanso shouted gleefully.

    #3317

    Sanso was delighted to have the pretty young woman holding his arm, and greatly amused to notice her fascination with his blue codpiece. “More from us later!” he chuckled to himself. He was in a jolly mood despite the fearsome inferno, pleased with himself for utilizing available objects such as the chopsticks to fascilitate a speedy exit from that ghastly Chinese meal. The teleport had not gone exactly to plan ~ he had intended to join his old friend the Map Dancer at The Blue Cod Hotel on Boogie Island in the Antarctic, but had manifested a blue codpiece instead, much to his amusement, although he had no idea how he ended up in London in the year 1212 ~ not until he met Fanella. As soon as he saw her he knew that he had been drawn there purposefully.

    #3313

    When Jack had sent Lisa a message to ask if Fanella had joined her and Mirabelle in Portugal, she was worried.
    “Mirabelle, Fanella has disappeared, do you know anything about it?” asked Lisa. “Did she say anything to you that might give us a clue? Was she planning on going anywhere, did she have any friends outside the village? I know she homesick for 18th century Paris, but she couldn’t possibly have gone back ~ or could she?”
    “Bit of a dark horse, our Fanella,” replied Mirabelle. “Always down by that river on her own, reading that strange old book.”
    “Not Circle of Eights and Other Stories!”
    “Yes, that’s the one. She was practicing projecting to the places in the book.”
    WHAT?? Mirabelle, there’s no time to lose, we must go back to the village at once. If Fanella has been doing that, she could be anywhere, anywhere at all ~ and the trail will be a hard one to follow!”
    “But what about our holiday? And not only that, what about the strange tile that was stolen that we’re supposed to be looking for?”
    “The damn tile can wait.” snapped Lisa. “But I haven’t forgotten your arousing arms,” she added, her voice softening. “But we must find Fanella first.”

    ~~

    Lisa was not surprised to find on her return to the village that everything had descended into chaos. She knew that her responsibility belief about her herd tribe had something to do with it, and although she detested the word control, she was well aware of her propensity for monitoring and guiding the creatures and characters in her domain. The lifestyle in the village had relaxed her guidelines about fair play to some extent, but by golly some people were lazy slackers at times. But the one thing that got her goat was being kept in the dark. How could she keep a benevolent control if she wasn’t aware of what was going on? When she found out that Fanella had been making a granite box, and that she was the last to know, she was furious.

    #3309
    Jib
    Participant

      The boy was giving her a tour of the grounds in a monotonous voice.

      “The hotel is actually divided in several pavilions, each representing a culture of the world and designated by a special name. The 888 pavilion was built according to the principles of Feng Shui in order to bring health and prosperity to the clients.”

      And certainly money to the hotel, thought Linda Pol.

      “The water spring represents the flow of energy. It is made in such a way that customers can hear a peaceful gurgle of water when they enter the building. It helps regulate the emotions and bring stability in life.”

      Linda Pol couldn’t help but notice that it was also skillfully made so that the water was always returning towards the building. A sudden roar startled her. She was so engrossed in her Asian prejudices that she hadn’t seen the lions.

      The boy, who had certainly planned that, recited his reassuring script to rich customers.
      “These lions, one male and one female, are held in an invisible electro-magnetic cell, they can’t escape or harm you in any way. They are from the Asian species.”

      “You mean they are real ?” At first she had thought they were carefully made robots, holograms wouldn’t have done the trick in direct sunlight. But real lions ?
      “Don’t tell me”, she continued, “they are here to shoo away the ill-intentioned.” For a moment, she had the impression that the eyes of the boy had shifted to an Asian breed.

      “Madame knows her Feng Shui”, said the boy with a fake smile.

      Could he be a robot ? What the fuck, all her vanity wasted to a robot ? Where has gone that gorgeous boy who brought her the message ?
      You’re paranoid, ma fille, said her mother’s voice.

      #3308
      Jib
      Participant

        “Madame, a message from your mother. She’s waiting for you in her room.”

        Linda Pol, ensconced in a lumpy chair at the hotel bar, got confused at the mention of her mother. She had forgotten for a moment that it was the code for her meeting with Amber Graystone. The boy was wearing the hotel livery, the fur was a perfect fit on that young body. He must have been eighteen, at least, it was illegal in most states to employ underage personnel. He was presenting her a folded paper on a silver plate. That was so cliché, the Management should keep up to date with the latest unusual methods.

        She took the paper delicately. Thick, three hundred grams at least. Grainy yet satin-smooth. She thought the Management had money issues. She opened it and saw a single number inside. 88857.

        “There must be a mistake, mon ami. Certainly your hotel is big, but it doesn’t have so many stories.”
        The boy smirked.
        “Please follow me, I’ll show you the way. Oh, and keep the card with you.”

        Linda Pol had become cautious with age, but she had to admit the thrill of adventure and mystery was exciting. Especially presented on a silver plate by such a gorgeous minion. Something she hadn’t felt often lately.

        She smiled, stretched her left arm and fluttered her fingers. Those chairs were so deep that you could’t get up without looking like getting out of the armpit of a gorilla. The boy helped her out, a surprised look on his face when she appeared to spring on her feet like a young damsel. Those morning fitness sessions were paying off after all.

        “Show me everything”, she said with her best doe eyes.
        Come on, Pol. He could be your son, she thought. The youngest, added her mother’s disincarnate voice.

        #3306

        Irina started to smell foul play when she arrived at the coordinates indicated in the last of the laconic messages sent to her by the Management.

        “Are you sure you got the coordinates right Mr R?”
        “Very much so Madam, but if you will allow me, I will double check to alleviate the hint of doubt I perceive in your most suave voice.”
        “Yes, do that please.”

        When becoming anxious, Irina tended to get prone to bossiness, and didn’t like what she heard in her voice.

        “I adore this door.”
        Yes, that was much better with suave undertones, with a hint of foreign raspy accent to spice it up.

        In truth, the door was plain, wooden, with a number painted on it, half erased, and a series of symbols which, although she could not place them, raised a distant alarm in her mind.
        “Rainbow magic?…” That was how they renamed the lore of black magic when it was privatized and re-marketed to the masses. She had not seen rainbow magic in ages, and there was no way that door would lead to an actual island without moving her out of this time and space.

        “Bloody buggers. Should have read those cryptic fine prints more carefully.”

        She realized there was a good chance her promised island was in a godforsaken place lost in time. She could count herself lucky if the deserted island was not in the palaeolithic and raided by dangerous dinosaurs…

        There was little choice. Either boldly embrace the great unknown behind the door, and trust her luck, or stay behind, short of the island of her dreams and probably condemned to run from the Management’s evil plans anyway.
        At least, with option one, the lottery could be favourable.
        That was what you got for dabbling in sketchy and questionable shots.

        “Mr R, are you ready?”
        “Always, Madam.”

        She felt lucky and pressed the door.

        #3301

        Without Mirabelle and Lisa around, trying to encourage her all the time but succeeding merely in making her feel harassed, Fanella had relaxed enough to achieve a remarkable degree of success with her teleport and projection practice. Projecting had been easy enough actually, but a full teleport was another matter. But she was encouraged by her successes with the projections, and the few seconds of full body teleporting here and there that she had managed.
        Her attempts to return to her original physical focus timeframe had been futile; there were mental and emotional blocks and too much associated baggage getting in her way, and her lack of a specific intention with other timeframes had led not unsurprisingly to random times and places which had been unsettling ~ at times alarming ~ resulting in her finding herself back where she started in no time at all.
        Fanella decided to pick a date and a location and be firm about it and unwavering.
        She chose a date and a location based on an old battered book she had found on the shelf in Lisa’s house. It was called Circle of Eights and Other Stories. Many a happy hour had she spent reading the book down by the river, a gloriously feast of imaginative tales, with no dull steadfast tiresome normal plot or structure. It had appealed to her greatly, and sparked many fantastic ideas and wonderings. She felt particularly attracted to the tale about the island in 2121, and decided to make that her specific teleport destination.

        #3299
        Jib
        Participant

          It hadn’t been easy to obtain Sadie a pay raise. The management always seemed to look for new ways to cut the costs wanted to give her an extra for the good job. Although this time, LP could put the golden balls and the rebirth of the network in the balance. They could have had enough to give the whole team a decent salary. Indeed, it wasn’t really fair that the young queens were not paid at all. Unless of course you counted props, wigs and fake eyelashes. Eventually, Linda got Sadie the extra and the raise she had asked for, and new contracts for the three young queens. She shall not forget the tears of joy in their eyes when she announced them they were part of the big Queer Network family. It had made her feel good and generous even if it was not her money she was giving.

          Linda Pol wrapped her luscious lips around an authentic straw and sucked up voraciously the glowing rainbow cocktail. Mmmmm, this new Peas’cocktail is divine, she thought. After the buzz created by their last network and that mysterious quest of Saint Germain for Peasland, peas-thingies were everywhere. She put the glass back on the edge of the Jacuzzi and looked at the little magenta umbrella for a moment. She didn’t know what was the most pleasing, the bubbles gently massaging her back in the water, or the gorgeous scenery of the Merry Otter resort in Maui. Linda Pol hadn’t had good vacation in a long long time, and if she had been in vacation this place could totally be one of her first choices destinations.

          Unfortunately, she wasn’t there for vacations or relaxation. She wasn’t there for exercise either. She had been asked to attend a conference and meet with one of those new Random Science scientists specialized in the ambergris tiles. As if it was a joke from the Universe, her name was Amber Graystone. But Linda Pol had long learned that there were no such thing as unusualness, you just hadn’t seen enough of the world.

          A boy came to refill her cocktail. Girl, you spend too much time looking at young bums, she thought, ageing beliefs were everywhere. She was feeling drowsy with the bubbles and the alcohol, almost dreaming of whales and ambergris.

          “… Graystone is taking her job too seriously”, said a man’s voice.

          Linda Pol opened her eye, just enough so that her fake eyelashes could still hide she was awake. When she was young, her curiosity had put her in trouble more times than the number of her pair of shoes. She had developed strategies and an incredible butt recognition skill. It had helped her win many contests in her youth and avoid boring conversations later on.

          The two men wore bath suits. Linda could clearly see that one of the butts was slack and lifeless. Almost avoiding the contact with the fabric. An American butt fed with hamburgers and soda. The rest of the silhouette seemed to naturally spread out from its central component.

          The other one moved like a mustang, the shiny red lycra was only here to help you see more clearly the outline of the flesh, not hide it. The curve of the bottom of the spine indicated a Russian ancestry. She felt a rush of adrenaline. She loved how Russians rolled their Rs. They could do many things with a rolling tongue.

          “You want me to take carrre of herrr ?” asked a voice carrying ice.

          “No, just remind her to whom she owes her subsidies. And her results.”

          #3295

          “Wait, wait!”
          When Jonbert in his crab suit arrived on the spot, most of the life had deserted the place to go for a half-brain peaceful sleep, except a few remaining inebriated whales making some more ambergris gyrating around the fading crystal. At times, the hologram could still be faintly perceived.

          “It’s so unfair, I’ve invested so much in this quest to see it fail now and have other reap the reward! I have a question, answer me!”

          The St Germain hologram seemed roused by the word question, if not by the emotional request.

          “A question… Mmm, sounds tempting, I didn’t really get a good question in ages, not to be rude with the previous ones, but well…” he shrugged.
          “Alright, alright, a few questions but be quick with it, I’m nearly done packing my data to transcend to Peasland.”

          Despite the draw to ask more about Peasland, Jonbert was steadfast in his resolve and asked the question that had been on mind rehearsed many a time, hopeful for a mind-blowing answer.

          “Life everlasting is at hand; all I need is to refine enough gold to go through time…”
          “Oh, or simply a bit of gugleshopping would do”
          “What?”
          “Nevermind, must be a data interference”
          “How do I manage that? Can you teach me transmutation?”
          “Well, sure I can, it probably would help, actually I just did it again right here about half an hour ago.”
          “Where is the gold? Where is it?”
          “It’s in the heart, that’s where true transmutation works. Maybe you should listen to some music, I hear a hit song is on its way.”

          Jonbert had the vague feeling he was being mocked, if not by Saint Germain, by fate or worse, his own attempts at a futile quest.

          “But seriously, endings are not so bad you know” the hologram went on “sometimes some experiences are like being trapped in a crystal. I was trapped in a crystal, in a previous life, a long time ago you know… But I digress… You see, new life sparks new creativity. I suggest you make peace with your life and go on with the rest of it, otherwise you’ll find out you have missed it completely. No amount of fountain of youth is going to make you feel better, not in this state. But the reverse is true, the more you will enjoy and inhabit your present, the longer you will live, without even ageing.”

          It surely wasn’t an answer he was expecting. Nobody would have dared give him such answer.

          “Take it as you are not dead yet, this capacity to be surprised is a great feeling… Now I must bid you farewell my friend. You had indeed some great questions…”

          “Wait!” the unexpected words had stirred him somehow and Jonbert had a sudden idea “Tell me a bit more about this Peasland place,… are they in need of a person in a place of authority? Can I come along?”

          “I don’t see why not. Let me recalibrate that crystal, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

          And with a flash of light, the hologram and the crab-man disappeared to the relief of Belen who was monitoring the scene with interest mixed with concern.

          “That was unexpected. And bloody hell, I’m dead. Those humans know nothing.
          Well, look at the Now, it’s high time I go back to Peter, he and the kids must be worried green sick…”

          #3293

          The whales’ dance on the dark bluish background lit by the tiniest reflection on floating seahorses and other sea creatures, made the scenery look like an eerie night skyline, full of moving stars.
          The added feeling of weightlessness was empowering, and soon, the three queens passed side glances, barely interested by the words of wisdom of the hologram, and catching each other’s mind, almost asked their question at the same time.

          Terry was the quickest this time, “Please, please, can you do a rendition of the Name Game with your disco ball lights, we’re all dying to do a dance! Please?”

          Interestingly, the Hologram didn’t show any hesitation as it started to sing, and the three queens were all glowing as they adjusted their wigs, fins and other appendages.

          The Name Game
          Terry!
          Terry, Terry bo Berry Bonana fanna fo Ferry
          Fee fy mo Merry, Terry!
          Sadie! Sadie, Sadie bo Badie Bonana fanna fo Fadie
          Fee fy mo Madie, Sadie!
          Come on everybody!
          I say now let’s play a game
          I betcha I can make a rhyme
          Out of anybody’s name …

          The lights were on, and the dresses glittered, Terry in the spur of the moment added kelp extensions to her wig to match the sardine tones of her suit, while Sadie’s only concession to fashion was a little glowing golden jellyfish that seemed to match her bob cut, and made for a funny pulsating hat.

          Adamus was on, and unstoppable

          The first letter of the name,
          I treat it like it wasn’t there
          But a B or an F, or an M will appear
          And then I say Bo add a B
          Then I say the name and Bonana fanna and a fo
          And then I say the name again
          With an F very plain and a fee fy and a mo
          And then I say the name again
          With an M this time
          And there isn’t any name that I can’t rhyme.

          A chorus of dolphins tried to join, having Consuela burst hysterically into peals of unstoppable laughter.

          Consuela!
          Consuela, Consuela bo Bonsuela Bonana fanna fo Fonsuela
          Fee fy mo Monsuela, Consuela!
          But if the first two letters are ever the same,
          I drop them both and say the name
          Like Bob, Bob drop the Bs Bo ob
          For Fred, Fred drop the Fs Fo red
          For Mary, Mary drop the Ms Mo ary
          That’s the only rule that is contrary.

          Maurana was shaking her head in seducing moves, pretending not to die of envy of the others, and expecting her turn.
          And the music went on…

          Okay? Now say Bo: Bo
          Now Belen without a B: Elen
          Then Bonana fanna fo: bonana fanna fo
          Then you say the name again with an F very plain: Felen
          Then a fee fy and a mo: fee fy mo !
          Then you say the name again with an M this time: Melen
          And there isn’t any name that you can’t rhyme
          Maurana! Maurana, Maurana bo Baurana Bonana fanna fo Faurana
          Fee fy mo Aurana, Maurana!

          And they continued with all sorts of names for quite a while, even some of the whales’ and dolphins’ who were obviously enjoying the interlude.

          :fleuron:

          “Did you get all that on video?” Maurana asked Sadie.
          “Of course I did, the ezapper got it all. Linda Paul and the network won’t believe their eyes, it’s some heavy material! Even better than gold bars!” Sadie could barely believe what had just happened.

          The whales seemed to have been so thrilled that after a moment of silence, a smaller one broke off the cycle, went to the huge crystal and took a heart shaped shard of it to offer them.

          “I guess that’s their way of burning a DVD, what do you think?” Consuela was blissfully hopeless with technology, but could also have some moments of brilliance.

          “We should go now” Sadie said looking up from the ezapper “it looks like some unidentified giant blue crab is coming at us, and we better let the whales handle it.”

          “Are we going through that awful sewer again?” Maurana was starting to get green at the idea.

          “I don’t think so, I had Sanso pick us up at the underwater cave thanks to Consuela surprise reconnaissance mission. He just arrived and he just texted me his location. It’s not far from here. He seems to have managed to herd a few octopi to carry us across. Always surprisingly resourceful this one, I might start to like him…”
          Snapping from her emotions, she continued
          “Time to say your adieus to 2222 ladies. Tonight, everyone’s a winner. We’re going to be famous.”

          #3291

          Jonbert’s arms nearly fell, when his pet robot blurted out the news.
          WHAT?!”
          It could only mean one thing, someone was purposely sabotaging his efforts to gain life everlasting. How else could the keys have been activated in the presence of the crystal. He had specifically designed it to be activated by his own DNA.
          Good thing at least it had sent a signal to the central computer of the submarine, otherwise he would have been in the dark before the questions were exhausted.

          “Bloody buggers will ruin all my chances with their silly questions” There was no time to think, only for action. He buttoned his kilt, buckled his heavy studded leather belt, and flushed the toilet where he was sitting and shouted “Bring my exosuit! No! Not the one with the tentacles! No, not the clam-like one, dammit! Are you deaf or what, the one with the pincers!”

          #3286
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            (a totally random one)

            San Diego
            – a mystery
            by Ewrick

            The cosy, Cornish town of San Diego holds a secret.

            Gregory Khan has the perfect life working as a shopkeeper in the city and gyrating with his lovable girlfriend, Ruth Donaldson.

            However, when he finds a tattered torch in his cellar, he begins to realise that things are not quite as they seem in the Khan family.

            A Christening leaves Gregory with some startling questions about his past, and he sets off to deserted San Diego to find some answers.

            At first the people of San Diego are courageous and helpful. He is intrigued by the curiously hilarious gardener, Una Grey. However, after she introduces him to hard sugar, Gregory slowly finds himself drawn into a web of decadence, sloth and perhaps, even mutilation.

            Can Gregory resist the charms of Una Grey and uncover the secret of the tattered torch before it’s too late, or will his demise become yet another San Diego legend?

            Praise for San Diego

            “Who wouldn’t give up a life of gyrating with their lovable girlfriend to spend a little time with a curiously hilarious gardener?”
            – The Daily Tale

            “About as mysterious as finding a poo in a public toilet. However, San Diego does offer a valuable lesson about not getting into hard sugar.”
            – Enid Kibbler

            “The only mystery, is why did I keep reading after page one?”
            – Hit the Spoof

            “I could do better.”
            – Zob Gloop

            #3285

            Secretly, Sadie had a beautifully laid out plan in her head, like a vacation plan with stop-overs at luxury hotels, and activities to entertain the children.
            That made her slightly miffed about the succession of sidetrack adventures and the lack of focus of her protégés.

            The plan was simple enough, they had to take the magical crystal from under the whale’s noses, and get back to the closest Time sewer, where they could funnel up (her fancy verb for “complete”) the special reboot edition of the Time Draggler’s show.

            Surprisingly, Linda Paul’s interest and instructions seemed to have weakened and her usually generous and unwarranted input have been inordinately limited. Maybe the summer heat wave had mollified her, or her projects had shifted since the pilot of the Time Draggler’s show had failed to grab the network’s attention and fulfil its promises.
            She couldn’t say. But something in what the techromancer told her had stuck, and she couldn’t quite shake it out. “A train will come for you, and you will have to catch it, this Time is your train.”
            The hell if she knew what Time that was anyway.
            But one thing was sure, this one-time gig was growing on her, and she didn’t want to get back to dog food tasting. So one way or another, she’d have to make it work, and move the drag’s lazy butts to make a heck of an entertaining show.

            “Look! I vink vey’re over vere!” Maurana was getting the gist of the telepathic conversation.

            It was lucky the interior of the cave was lit, as outside the night had fallen like a cold black carpet on a pack of dust bunnies, dropping the water’s temperature. Luckily, the suits seemed to have their own warming as well as glowing mechanism.

            Terry was over Consuela, who seemed unconscious and in a REM sleep.
            “Hey! Consuela learnt your eye rolling technique!” Maurana gleefully tuned towards Sadie.
            “Don’t be silly, I think he’s in shock, pass me that electric eel, to wake that bitch up.” Terry was always for a bit of drama. It seemed to do the trick.

            “Woah, you can’t believe the stuff I’ve seen…” Consuela’s pupils were dilated so much it was hard to see the whites of her eyes.

            “Classic case of red algae intoxication, no need to consult the ezapper for that” Sadie said. “It is known that dolphins use it as a shamanic tool to astral. The concentration in these waters is surprinsingly high. Nothing than some fresh water can’t cure.” Too much time under water, she started to babble like a fish.

            The Time window wouldn’t stay indefinitely open. She needed to get them move, and take back her authority. With children like them, one thing that worked was to shake some shiny stuff in front of them and let them follow it.
            “Anyone interested in a Whale Queen’s Race?”

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