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The secret life of Noah’s Ark…

So the Story goes...

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  • in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #303

    Becky woke up in a sweat. Her bedclothes were tangled and what remained of her pillow was on the floor. The room was full of downy feathers.

    Sheesh, said Becky, pushing sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes and reaching for her cigarettes.

    What a dream! Wow, I wonder what that witch did to deserve that! Becky couldn’t quite believe she’d had such a violently aggressive dream. All she could really remember was attacking a witch, and slapping her repeatedly, and punching her, screaming all the while DON’T…EVER….DO THAT AGAIN Wangwangawanga…… DON’T DO IT wangawanga… then the witch had turned into a goose, but still Becky kept punching her, causing the poor gooses feathers to fly everywhere, and all the while Becky kept shouting WANGAWANGAWANGA……

    I can’t believe I did that, even in a dream! Becky hated violence so much that she walked out of the room if a violent scene was showing on the television, and she loved witches and geese.

    That poor goose! Becky decided to go back into the dream, to smooth what was left of the gooses ruffled feathers, and apologize.

    She stubbed out her cigarette, and settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Now the goose was looking at her reproachfully, in between straightening her plumage, and huffing and tutting a bit.

    I’m awfully sorry about that! I don’t know why I did it. Becky hoped it was a forgiving kind of goose, and not a vengeful one.

    It matters not, I suppose, grumbled the goose, I must have created being slapped around by a sweaty madwoman, though gawd knows why.

    Were you a witch in another focus? Becky asked. Because I was angry with a witch initially, not a big white goose and I don’t know how I came to be pummeling you. Come to think of it, I don’t know why I was attacking the witch either. The witch did look unpleasant though, but you look nice enough….

    Well I don’t look very blimmen nice with my feathers in this state, dearie! And don’t remind me of that dratted witch focus, gawd, I was horrid. Not surprised you lashed out at that one!

    Becky started to relax. Things were looking promising. The goose was turning out to be rather sweet.

    But as you can see, continued the goose, I am not a witch, I am a big white goose now, a rather sweet one too, even if I do say so myself, so let’s hear no more about it.

    Becky smiled broadly at the goose. I appreciate that very much! Oh by the way…what’s your name?

    Angela, answered the goose, Angela Wing.

    REALLY? Becky said, rather rudely, and then caught herself and said: Angela! What a lovely name! Angela Wing, would you like to be in our play?

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #419

    Arthur, the bald eagle was flying quite high above the land… he was unnoticed but was here.

    He was following a raft drifting along with the current of Self River… He could see far in the distance… and could hear a tiny goaty voice

    What no bald eagle icon!?

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #602
    AvatarJib
    Participant

      Albert the mosquito was playing with a gigantic creature to the hide and seek game.
      He was quite a daredevil mosquito and had managed to survive for several days in the same space arrangement.

      He was close to the fulfillment of his intent and ready to move to other areas, but still in this reality… maybe he would choose some other species as he was incorporating some Praying Mantis aspects for a few days now.

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1152

      Angela Wing was getting impatient. It had taken the fat white goose many months to reach a state of impatience, being such an accepting sort of creature, but really, she was wondering if she would ever have even so much as a walk in part in the Reality Play. Sure, she was a player behind the scenes, often appearing in the dreams of the players, but heck, a little bit of limelight would be nice occasionally.

      She preened her brilliant white feathers, thinking how well they would show up under the lights, as it were. It was all very well lurking in the shadows of the ill remembered dreams all the time, but Angela felt the time was ripe for more exposure.

      :fleuron:

      Becky yawned. Where on earth did that come from? she wondered, as she tried to rouse herself from her long nap. I wasn’t even dreaming about Angela Wing! All I can remember dreaming about is a book cover, something to do with eights…

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1153

      “Don’t you think time is ripe, Ratirat?” Angela asked, turning to her friend Seth, the brown furred mouse.
      “None of us are ever equipped, for general purposes, to perceive reality in all of its forms.” Seth started in a squeaky voice.

      “That’s interesting” nodded Angela, though she would have been in trouble had anyone asked her to explain what she just heard.

      Seth continued in his unnerving high-pitched voice “The pyramid gestalts can do this, and we help the pyramid gestalts perform this feat.”

      “I second that” said Freako the black and white ferret.
      “Bloody good point!” Weirdy, the damsel weasel managed to say among the growing cacophony.

      “Don’t be zilly… I don’t zink people outzide of this zoo are ready for us” snapped Joppy the baby pygmy hippo.

      “Zwines!” grumbled Angela, innocently mocking Jobby’s strange accent.

      in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1157
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “Companions, we should start an aaadventure!” Angela the White Goose stammered to her friends.

        Freaky the Ferret couldn’t help but notice the stammering which heard like a typing typo. “Speaking of which, it’s been weeks we haven’t got any news from Arky the Aardvark, have we?”

        “Go figure,… my bets are on an aliens’ abduction” said Weirdy the Weasel rather gloomily.

        “Don’t tell that!” Angela’s look of horror on her face was leaving her paler than the white of her pristine white feather —if that would have been possible, of course.

        “You know the aliens… Zey’ve started to move a few days ago… I heard the zoo-keeper tell about it” added Jobby the baby pygmy hippo with his most funny conspiratorial look.

        “And they brought in a big lady anaconda, it came yesterday from nowhere!” Angela chimed in.

        “Perhaps she knows something…”

        in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1158
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Mademoiselle Mongoose was the Director of Public Relations at the Z.O.O. (short for Zoological Organization of Outcasts) which was no easy task. Her job entailed ensuring that the members remained Outcasts whilst endeavouring to foster an attitude of Acceptance from the general public. The dilemma was that oftentimes, once an Outcast was Accepted, he no longer qualified as an Outcast and according to the rules, was no longer eligible to remain at the Z.O.O.

          Mlle Mongoose couldn’t find the new Outcast anywhere. The enormous Anaconda, affectionately nicknamed Nana Croissant, was Absent Presumed Escaped Soft, which was one of Mlle Mongoose’s biggest headaches at the Z.O.O. There seemed to be a disproportionate number of A.P.E.S. at the Z.O.O.


          Mlle Mongoose sighed. If Nana Croissant couldn’t be located, Mlle Mongoose would have to report the disappearance to her superior, Sir Raphael Cabra-Chevre. Thankfully the Z.O.O. also had a disproportionately high population of R.A.B.B.I.T.S. (Rare Intermediate ‘Best Bait In Town’ Stars), to cover for the erratic and unpredictable behaviour of the A.P.E.S., ensuring that there was plenty going on for the General Public at all times. (It may be noted by the S.W.A.N.S. ~ Sumafi Workers Affiliated Normal Society ~ that R.I.B.B.I.T.S. would be more technically accurate, however they were generally accepted as R.A.B.B.I.T.S. to Those In The Show ~ otherwise known as T.I.T.S.)

          Mlle Mongoose decided to enlist the help of the C.A.M.E.L.S. (Central Agency for Missing, Escaped & Lost Softs) before alerting Sir Raphael Cabra-Chevre.

          The Case of The Disappearing Aardvark was another matter, though. Mlle Mongoose decided to call in the M.E.E.R.C.A.T.S. (Missing Entities & Essences Roll Call and Time Share)

          in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1194
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            “Barry the White Bear is the last person having seen Arky the missing Aardvark “ Mlle Mongoose reported back to the team of worried animals.

            “And did he say anything more?” Angela Goose asked, interrupting busy-looking Mlle Mongoose in mid-sentence.

            “Well, if you’d let the Director speak, perhaps we could hear what she knows” said Freaky the Ferret.
            “Don’t be zo mean to Angelipooh” Jobby the Hippo said compassionately “You know poor Angie is zo buzzy with Baba Yolanda coming over”
            “Who?” asked Weirdy the Weasel distractedly
            “Baba Yolanda the Loon !” answered Angela with a hint of exasperation “You’re not paying attention my dear? I told you ages ago she’d be coming this week to the Zoo to spend her winter here… I figure it’s getting too difficult for her in the wild given her age.”
            “Well, I hope it’ll be better this time; last time she came, she left you in a pretty bad shape, it took us months to get you back on your feet. It should be time for her to get over that old ugly-duckling complex…”

            “Ahem”, managed to say Mlle Mongoose who was however following the discussion with great interest
            She continued “As far as Arky is concerned, perhaps you should go see him yourselves. You’ll probably get more from Barry White than I did; He’s bearing the management a grudge since we decided to raise the temperature of his room because everybody around was catching colds after colds.”

            “Oh, great… my time of hitting the spotlight has finally come, and I’m stuck with dear ol’ Baba Yolanda” sighed Angela Goose.

            in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1204
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              “What did you do with Baba Yolanda?” the usual gang asked Angela Goose when they saw her coming alone.

              “Oh bugger Baba the Loon, I’ve put her in an Eiders Nursing Home, she’ll be comfy there and I’ve got enough feather ruffling at home, I had to admit the Eiders Nursing Home are more equipped than I am.”

              “Oh, zheers Angela, good zing for you” Jobby the baby pygmy hippo wanted to applause. “Now we can go see Barry the White Bear!”

              “Hang on a minute,” Angela interrupted “Don’t you think we should enroll Baboona and Obaboon? They are quick-witted and smart like humans those two, could be helpful to worm a bit of information out of Barry…”

              “Oh, that’s it, you don’t think we’re good enough, how rude” Weirdy the Weasel feigned being hurt

              “Oh, stop it Weirdy, we’re all fine, you’re right; let’s go now, we’ll see what comes when it comes…”

              in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1228
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                When the four friends Angela Goose, Jobby the Pygmy Hippo, Weirdy the Weasel and Freaky the Ferret came to the dwelling of Barry the White Bear, they were all greeted by Pawanie the Lady Panda, his lovely partner.

                “Oh,” she told them, “Barry is already gone fishing, but if that’s Arky the Aardvark you are looking for, I can tell you that I saw sweet Arkie Pooh not too long ago. He’s never far away when you need him.”

                “By the way,” Pawanie the Lady Panda said to Angela “There’s a litter of the cutest baby crocodiles that has been placed for adoption, and I immediately thought of you.”

                “What?!” Angela quacked almost frantically.

                “Oh” said Freaky the Ferret “I saw that recently somewhere, they said baby crocos could talk to each other even when still inside the eggs! Could you believe that?”

                “Well, of course,” Weirdy the Weasel answered teasingly, “ everybody knows that .”

                in Reply To: Strings of Nines #2699
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The snail was called Shelly Dwelling, for obvious reasons. :multimedia:

                  in Reply To: Strings of Nines #2700
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    Shelly rolled its eyes, for dubious reasons. :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

                    in Reply To: Strings of Nines #2716
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Shelly Dwelling, horrifed ~ naturally enough ~ at the mention of butter and parsley, was immensely relieved to see Frobisher the frog gliding along in his electric wheelchair. “Hop on, Shelly!” he whispered urgently “My wheelchair is super fast, I’ll get you out of this pickle in a jiffy!”

                      “Frobisher! Oh my godfrogs, it’s good to see you! What timing! But I can’t hop!”

                      “Well neither can I now, without my legs” he replied, “But you can climb up my wheel, can’t you?”

                      “Well ok, but don’t move, I’m on my way, this may take a while…”

                      “Hurry, Shelly! Hurry up! I can smell butter melting, there’s no time to lose!”

                      Unfortunately for Shelly who was a quarter of the way up the left wheel, Frobisher engaged his electric motor and sped off into the long grass. It would have been far too risky to wait.

                      “Hang on, Shelly! This will be the ride of your life!” he called, as Shelly spun round the giant Ferris Wheel.

                      “I suppose this is why your name is Frobisher Ferris” she replied through gritted teeth.

                    Viewing 13 replies - 1 through 13 (of 13 total)