I knew a funny ghoul. She died quite frequently on stage...
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I knew a funny ghoul. She died quite frequently on stage...
That's the spirit!!
Dude, you're killing me...
I normally go out about now, but think I'll spend the night in. My coffin awaits.
G'night, and see you in the morning [[UK time, of course!) :)
Peace out, amigo mio. I have to hit the pillow myself; we're working overtime again and I have to get up early.
Hey you two are pretty good with the ideas and all...[of course i hold all patents and potions]well keep up the good work.
Well, arr&bee, you may think you hold all patents and potions....but there was a knock at my door the other evening, and there stood a leprechaun.....
Was he holding a subpoena? Nasty little suckers...
Well no, he said he had information which might prove to be of great interest to me, and could he step inside?
I wondered how he would, in fact, negotiate the step to reach the inside....but in he came.
It seems he's been up to some espionage, and it appears he is far from alone. A horde of them have been conducting a surveillance operation on arr&bee's activities.
They have cunningly traced arr&bee to this site [[see, I told you to lock the door, and bolt all the windows). They have noted that he refers to them as 'leps', and are very affronted.
He said that, as a direct consequence, he was visiting me to ask if I was interested [[at all, at all) in information which would be to my financial advantage.......
This has all the trappings of an international best seller... Can you wait while I get a pencil and paper and start all over again at the point that he knocked on your door?
Let me know when you are ready.....
I'm having trouble spelling "leprechaun". Can we change it to "munchkins"?
They're different people. They may threaten to take legal advice. And they're real touchy when comments are made about their height [[or lack thereof...). But translate how you like.
And there's nothing wrong with your spelling......
That's because I typed it, silly man. I'm writing my book in long hand.
You might as well copy my own typed edition, but in long hand....
Perhaps. I'm really no good with typewriters. Wite-Out costs too much and I'm always inclined to snort it when I get writer's block.
You'd be better off reading other people's efforts, and marking the margins.
I almost got a deal once when I read other people's efforts and changed the names of the characters and places in the story. Turns out that's illegal.
They make stoopid laws against everything nowadays. Government is just too darned big...
Someone could show up, copying our posts.
What the copyright laws would be on that, I don't know...
Oh, I did that myself about eight pages ago. But I took the same concept and rewrote Stephen King's "The Dark Tower" series as my own "Black Castle" series and somebody who bought it had the nerve to tell him... Curiously, the judge didn't believe me when I said that he was the one who ripped me off.
A travesty of justice. You're a far more frightening read than Stephen King.
I agree. If only I could get the hang of that punctuation thing,
Hey west,don't you know it's bad luck to let a leprechaun into your home[they'll never find the origin and they're desperate].
The leprechaun could be thinking it was bad luck for him to enter my home, so I am trying to be a congenial host.
Host?! Host, shmost... They don't enter 'Mercan homes because we all have guns and Castle Doctrine means we get to use them.
We English are into whimsy, as are those leprechauns.....
Leprechauns can't enter your home unless they've been invited...or is that vampires?
I thought it was in-laws. Or are they really just the same as vampires?
On a dark night they can be easily mistaken.
You can recognize when they have visited by the tooth marks they leave in your refrigerator and bank account.
Yes. Given the chance, they will suck you dry.
Indeed. And I think that even Dracula would be decent enough that he would not complain about a free meal before finding no reason to stick around once it's gone...
Dracula doesn't have the same sense of humour as the leprechauns, and his style of dress is rather formal.
That's right. His cape and walking stick are absolutely to die for.
[[Okay, how awkwardly constructed is the phrase "to die for", really? After the above comment, I was ready to hit "send" but my anal retentive nature wouldn't let it go. Seeing it in writing made my skin crawl [[figuratively speaking). Anyway, back to the thread...)
Yes, agreed. Technically, the construction is not correct...but language is [[as we're always being told) constantly evolving.
The phrase "to die for", and its variations, has become a cliche, but it does have a certain expressiveness to it.
So, it's OK with me..and all the people [[or was it only women?) who were dying to meet Dracula...
He's a swell guy but it takes a while to figure him out. For example, when most people ask if it's okay to smoke, they don't turn into it.
Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow
It was the year 2387. The world was covered in a blanket of snow, for global warming had long ago given way to a new Ice Age.
The last humans on Earth were gathering now in the Old City at the end of their annual pilgrimage. It had been a hard year, and the survivors numbered fewer than five hundred.
It had begun to snow again as the High Priest came out onto the balcony of the one remaining church and addressed the throng below.
"My children," he began, "we are gathered here today, as is our custom, to mark the passing of another year, to give thanks for our continued survival, and to pray for a better future. The sun does not give us enough heat as in times gone by , but the Holy Scriptures promise us that one day it will shine once more with its former glory. In the light of that promise, let us therefore give thanks unto the Great Goddess, Diana."
"That's Diane", shouted a lone voice at the back of the crowd.
As if they were one person, the rest of the congregation turned and pelted the heretic to death with a hail of snowballs and ice.
The High Priest raised his hand and the violence ceased. "Clear the path!", one of his acolytes commanded and they obediently separated to let the priest through. He walked to the lifeless form and found her clinging to something. It was a book. He locked eyes with a parishioner and nodded toward it. The parishioner bent beside the corpse and took the book from her hands.
Without looking at it, he handed it to the High Priest with both hands, reverently bowing so as not to catch the old man's eyes with his own. The priest took the book and looked at it. His countenance changed and he suddenly had an ashen look to his skin.
"It is as I thought," he said. "They have found us! Plans must be made to counter this threat to Goddess Diana's authority." He wheeled and gave the book to a young woman standing nearby. "This must be destroyed," he stated firmly. "Nobody must ever lay eyes upon the evil within it and be corrupted."
"As you wish, my Lord," she acknowledged. She took the text and went to the furnace. It would never be warm enough and by fueling the fire, she would give this abomination purpose. However, before she threw it into the fire, she carelessly permitted her eyes to glance at the cover of the tome. Dreamgirl: My Life as a Supreme, was printed on it. She paused, suddenly confused as to what to do. She noticed that there were photos and that was of interest to her.
She looked over her shoulder, hoping to see someone there to compel her to follow the High Priest's orders. Finding nobody, her trembling fingers opened the book. She took a deep breath and feeling compelled by a force stronger than herself, she allowed herself to begin reading. "Berry help me," she silently prayed because she knew that there was no turning back.
Some very evocative phrases there, in both posts. I bet the soundtrack is a killer. It seems to be on mute at the moment.
Also, yet another interesting example of how accounts are interpreted in different ways, by different people.
When I read 144man's post, I immediately assumed the lone voice, at the back of the crowd, to be male.....
And I immediately took it to be a female. Something Freudian would explain both assumptions, I'd suppose.