Silliness Convenient Lies - Page 4

poohbear_nc · 03-10-2010, 03:04 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Wetdogeared

Pass it to Kevin2960. He's been looking for something to do with his right hand.

"Ask and ye shall receive."

dsvick · 03-10-2010, 03:05 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Wetdogeared

Pass it to Kevin2960. He's been looking for something to do with his right hand.

Good point, I'll just drop it out the window here.... he must be down there somewhere, right?

poohbear_nc · 03-10-2010, 03:09 PM

On second thought give it to vivaldirules - I need to stuff a feather pillow.

badgoodDeb · 03-10-2010, 03:32 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by poohbear_nc

On second thought give it to vivaldirules - I need to stuff a feather pillow.

Your going to stuff a feather pillow with dog hair? Wow, I don't think I want to test that pillow.

GeoffC, I hope you are using *different* candles to cook the broccoli in that 3 pint pan? Oh, and the double effective property of broccoli is that it is known to cause gas. (Can't put it in a casserole for a nursing mother, for instance). We can either use it as a double-barrelled weapon, while you are dropping it ..... or use it to keep us afloat (a-air, I mean) should that be necessary.

If we can put the hot tub in a highly WINDOWED room, I and KK might be able to cause that distraction you were looking for, while we get out of town.

poohbear_nc · 03-10-2010, 03:33 PM

Quote:

Your going to stuff a feather pillow with dog hair? Wow, I don't think I want to test that pillow.

You need to check out his avatar - he's having an identity crisis!

badgoodDeb · 03-10-2010, 07:21 PM

Oh dear. Is VR having identity issues this week? I'll go look for him.....

kindlekitten · 03-10-2010, 07:55 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by dsvick

See this is where a trained weapons technician comes in - you have to ensure that it does the dropping part before the exploding part.

sheeesh, amatuers....

you can work on internal security and keep the unintiated from buttons, doors, hatches and pretty much anything else shiny

Quote:

Originally Posted by badgoodDeb

Oh dear. Is VR having identity issues this week? I'll go look for him.....

you missed the morph

badgoodDeb · 03-10-2010, 08:35 PM

Drat! A body tries to do a little real world stuff, just once in a blue moon, mind you, and I wind up missing everything that's happened! I wish avatars could stay put with the note they were written with. Oh well...... Makes life interesting!

He seems to have changed several times. He is a pencil drawn Yeates (maybe) right now.

mvisconte · 03-10-2010, 10:54 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by ShortNCuddlyAm

Possession isn't illegal in most countries, but use without licence is covered under the geneva convention. Even countries/regimes/individuals who don't observe the geneva convention observe that bit.

WOW! They're tough on orchestrals! Does that mean that the guy that pipes in during hockey games has to be licensed? Just what did you think I was talking about.

Quote:

Originally Posted by ShortNCuddlyAm

Meanwhile, all the chocolate appears to be genuine chocolate, but I need to do some more taste tests first. Same with the whisky. There is rather a lot to get through, erm, taste, so if anyone wants to help me... Geoff?

Chocolate whisky? I thought THAT was illegal. Like bacon-flavored vodka... take two fine ideas and come up with a devil-bastard-child result.

mvisconte · 03-10-2010, 11:00 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by GeoffC

sheesh - has anybody really tried steaming tonnes of broccolli in a 3 pint saucepan, over a candle ..... this had better work Boss or you I and your bodyguard are going to have words of more than one sylabable .....

I do not KNOW any words with more than one syl a ble. Oh wait, may be I do

You don't have to use the candle, you purist. Look in the kitchen. There a microwave.

:-D

OK, can the brocolli. We'll go with taffy. Hot taffy is, well, hot, and then it's sticky. NOBODY is going to want to fight when they're hot AND sticky.

You don't have to call me Boss, "Yer Highness" is fine. No actually, I'm pretty egalitarian, despite my looks. I will accept "sir" on the ends of sentences, but that about all the formality I can take (remember, it's not spelled "c - u - r"). It's not like I'm a slave driver, always bossing people around. "Boss" just feels... ooky. Several steps below "massa", but still. Ooky. Oh well, enough prattle, now BACK TO WORK!

Aren't there some barges to tote, or bales you can lift?

:-D

mvisconte · 03-10-2010, 11:15 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by dsvick

In the Marine Corps we receive extensive hand to hand and unarmed combat techniques.

Woohoo! Actually, I decided to go a softer route. My extensive training in defensive ballet, and offensive square dance will certainly tide me through. Plus, I've got a body guard! Makes me want to go in to WalMart and pick a fight with an old guy. No, an OLD guy. Older. Older. OK, that's about right. Yeah, the guy with the walker. Limits his mobility, his balance is such that he'd have a hard time using as a club, and he's not in the motorized thingy, so he can't run over me. "Hey! You! FOUR EYES! You got a problem!?" Oh, sorry. Ok, turn up the hearing aid. "HEY YOU! YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME!?" What? No, I didn't want Metamucil. No. Oh? Orange flavor. Yes, that's good. OK, we're going to have to leave now, me and this hot looking leather clad, extremely-sharp-throwy-thing holding, could-drop-kick-a-cow woman. Nope, appreciate it, but she doesn't need a baby sitter.

This never works the way I think it will.

Quote:

Originally Posted by dsvick

Other sorts of weapons, like pointy things that go bang, or tubey things that go whoosh boom, and long stick thingys that go rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat are another story ...

Well, tell me a story daddy! I love those kinds of things, although you can't really be a lovable rogue if you actually hurt people, so I never get to play. I DO, however, have a collection of Fezzes (if KK is through getting port hockey supplies), and I've got a pin-stripe suite, and a martini. That should be good for something. Ah, I can't drink and drive (a dirigible)... there's a table in the pilot house that I can set my drink on in between spinning the wheel.

Quote:

Originally Posted by dsvick

I could help KK if needed, or shortncuddly her job sounds interesting as well - or better yet I could do both - that sounds like a good combination!

A good combination, yes, but I cannot encourage fraternization between the troops. No telling when I'll get attacked by zombie pirates, or pirate zombies, or ninja-monkey-pirates with zombies. I need both of my two fiercest warriors on call. KK and Deb come as a pair, and as either one of them could beat the tar out of me (hard, I can attest), I wouldn't do anything to antagonize them. I have to be able to sleep at night without looking over my shoulder.

Actually, I happen to know that they are both loyal and patient, so when I screw up, I don't have to worry about winding up in a Fez being shipped to Algiers.

Whew. I gotta get this show on the road. OK, everybody, if you didn't go before take off, it's too late now. Oh wait, we have luxury lavatories. Never mind, at ease, relax, you won't even notice we're moving. If I can get this rope untied. Wait, we may not be moving. Anybody brave enough to shiney up the scaffolding inside to the for'd hatch and cut us loose? Anybody? Anybody? Bueller?

mvisconte · 03-10-2010, 11:16 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by pshrynk

You mean this red one here? <<click>> Uh oh.

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

That's OK, that guy was a health inspector. It'll be weeks before he's missed -- we'll be long gone.

mvisconte · 03-11-2010, 12:37 AM

OK, I have over-extended, and I am getting further behind in my plotting... I'm going to have to give some general outlines and come back and fill in details and dialogue later (maybe). I hope it's at least a little fun.

We wait until late dusk for our liberation...

Geoff has kindly volunteered to cut us loose (well, WD(E) helped by growling and snapping when he tried to get out of it). Up the interiour, between the gas compartments, up the scaffolding, over the cat-walk (I'm too sexy for my shirt), unlocked the hatch, and discovered that it is an electric latch, controlled from the wheel-house. Much merriment resulted.

It seems we've taken on additional passengers... two, to be exact. Speaking in bad english with broken (or at least sprained) accents, they claim to be "inspectors, customs, securities, you know, official stuff". No badges, and no real knowledge of what they're supposed to be inspecting, but hinting heavily that it will take very long, with many forms, beeg troble (for moose and squoril?) before we can leave. Mebbe they can speed up many forms, but ees beeg risk for them. Beeg risk. Wasn't ANYBODY watching the entrance?

Hinting heavily at the risk, the time it will take, the number of forms, and how much trouble we will be in if they have to do an "official" inspection, "you know, there are probably many, many theeng that are note write on thees sheep". They must "mek a coll." What is this? Chicago in the 20's? We're up against a syndicate? Sheesh. OK, first, eet's -- sorry, it's, it's not a sheep, it's a dirigible. Didn't these guys read the handout? Second, they have no patience. I'm playing dumb, something I am especially experienced at. They give up and tell me outright that they will need a payoff -- sizable, or sometheen bad might happen.

Catching Deb's eye, I ask her if she can escort our guests to the interiour lounge while I find some gold boullion for our visitors. Gee, suddenly they understand me very well. Just get them to an interiour room for a little while. These ships are extremely stable and you don't notice they're moving unless you're at a window (or we're doing evasive manuvers -- loop-de-loop?).

Deb and KK smile a very beeg smile. Yes, indeed, can we get you something? Coffee? Tea? I know that look... that's the look that the female praying mantis gives the male when she decides his insurance money will put the kids through college quite well. Uh-oh, I also know THAT look. Buddy, inspite of having women on the staff, this is not a 50's secretarial pool. If you try that, I'm thinking you might wind up missing limbs.

Listen, guys, I could save you trouble and just shoot you outright, but then we'd be short a plot point, and a lot of fun.

Deb and KK giggle, girlishly, and take our friends by the arm and lead them to one of the lounges. Drinks for everyone, pshrynk is serving, so I know they'll be heavy. dvsick is hovering, but just to provide less privacy lest our friends get too frisky too soon. Pshrynk is serving the better booze, against my better judgement, but hey, I trust him to know how hard to hit. You want attractive bait before the hook is set.

Hanger door is open, and we're easing out just over the water. The wash from the fans making a nice froth on the surface of the water. Makes me want espresso.

We're at the edge of the harbor, still well within comfortable distance to land, but far enough that we're more grey than visible. In the lounge, a light flashes. Deb stands up and says "well gentlemen, its time to go." Not understanding, the big guy smiles and reaches a hand out for her wrist. He moves a fraction of an inch forward and stops. Well, kind of. There is a sharp pain in his throat, an inch above his sternum. A sharp pain that he can't quite get away from. Deb has one hand on his tie, reeling him in, and one hand on a very sharp stilletto, the tip pressed just against his neck. He notices that there's warm liquid pooling in his belly button. KK has done a dosey-do on her friend and has his arm twisted so far up behind his back that he can scratch his head. A bit melodramatic, yes?

Sputtering, torn between wounded ego and not wanting to get wounded further, he resorts to implied theats, "you don't know who you are deeling weeth".

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was your name?" He didn't think it was funny, but I did. I watch on the monitor as the women frog-walk the goons from the lounge down the corridor into the wheel house. Released to glare as us, they men are sizing up the situation. One guy reaches up to his shoulder, and looks puzzled. Deb tosses a couple of cheap pot-metal semis on the chart table. KK notes "You boys don't have a very big budget, these are crap".

"Gentlemen, would you step out on the patio for a second?" Nobody's got guns, be these guys are not really comfortable with the thought of not being the main muscle. They're eyeing the hatch to the corridor, the chart table, the hatch, Deb, the door to the open patio, me, each other. They turn, slowly, facing the patio. You can see their shoulders tense as they get ready to spring...

And a deep growl comes from the hatchway. You know, a dog sounds a LOT larger when you can't see it. Their shoulders drop and they move toward the patio. Deb follows them out. They look back inside the wheel house and WD(E), KK, and I head out, closing the hatchway.

They go from puzzled to sly. They step apart and forward, moving so that Deb is more in line betwen them. They've ganged up on victims before. They look like the fox, for a little bit.

It's not a good feeling when your target knows they're a target, and they're smiling.

Deb faces one, and takes a step forward, and in a quick sweep, grabs lapels, pulls him close, and pushes hard, out and up, as she continues forward. I wish I had been there in person... I've never seen someone jetisoned so cleanly.

The man shot backward off balance, caught his legs on the top of the railing, and tumbled over, disappearing in the gloom. A spash followed quickly -- the wheel-house observation deck was just a couple dozens of feet above the water.

The second man panicked and rushed forward, whether to avenge his friend or try to safe him, I don't know. Deb turned half-way right, pushed off with her left foot, and dropped her right knee, and then stood up suddenly. And caught the man about two feet from the railing, and executed and perfect shoulder throw. The man followed his friend into the surf, and soon joined him yelling at the tops of their lungs.

KK ask "why don't I ever have any fun?" Patience, I'm sure you'll get to shoot something, hit something, or blow something up.
"Soon?" I promise.
Molified, she stepped to the chart table, scooped the guns up and joined Deb on the patio, where she tried to bean one of the men with the guns.
"He said I'd get to hit something soon... he promised. I'm just practicing."

It's a quiet, moonless night... take a little altitude, set the auto-pilot, and step out to the mess for a light dinner.

Geoff has several pounds of steamed broccoli, and no main course. The crew is sullen, except for Shortncuddly, who has chocolate. I decide to step to the lounge and drink my dinner. Tomorrow is another day. In about 9 hours.

----

So, anybody up for pirates? Energy weapons? Deeds of daring-do?

Any ideas?

mvisconte · 03-11-2010, 01:16 AM

Dang it. No, we didn't kill anybody. We're w/in swimming distance of land. And besides, you missed the part where Deb and KK try to frisbee two circular life preservers out to the two men. Bonked 'em pretty good, too.

GraceKrispy · 03-11-2010, 01:33 AM

First I thought it was a dark chocolate piece of candy.

Then I thought it was a cake with a small piece cut out. Chocolate cake, of course.

Then I looked closer and realized it had a tail. How odd, a tail in a chocolate cake.

Then it finally dawned... itʻs a fez, isnʻt it?

Or an otterly bizarre stepstool with a small horse hiding inside?

03-11-2010, 12:37 AM	#58
mvisconte pHilosopher kIng Posts: 208 Karma: 429751 Join Date: Jul 2009 Location: An imperfect world Device: Laptop, laptop, desktop, phone (HTC, HTC, Asus, Asus, LG rah!)	Sacred Blue! OK, I have over-extended, and I am getting further behind in my plotting... I'm going to have to give some general outlines and come back and fill in details and dialogue later (maybe). I hope it's at least a little fun. We wait until late dusk for our liberation... Geoff has kindly volunteered to cut us loose (well, WD(E) helped by growling and snapping when he tried to get out of it). Up the interiour, between the gas compartments, up the scaffolding, over the cat-walk (I'm too sexy for my shirt), unlocked the hatch, and discovered that it is an electric latch, controlled from the wheel-house. Much merriment resulted. It seems we've taken on additional passengers... two, to be exact. Speaking in bad english with broken (or at least sprained) accents, they claim to be "inspectors, customs, securities, you know, official stuff". No badges, and no real knowledge of what they're supposed to be inspecting, but hinting heavily that it will take very long, with many forms, beeg troble (for moose and squoril?) before we can leave. Mebbe they can speed up many forms, but ees beeg risk for them. Beeg risk. Wasn't ANYBODY watching the entrance? Hinting heavily at the risk, the time it will take, the number of forms, and how much trouble we will be in if they have to do an "official" inspection, "you know, there are probably many, many theeng that are note write on thees sheep". They must "mek a coll." What is this? Chicago in the 20's? We're up against a syndicate? Sheesh. OK, first, eet's -- sorry, it's, it's not a sheep, it's a dirigible. Didn't these guys read the handout? Second, they have no patience. I'm playing dumb, something I am especially experienced at. They give up and tell me outright that they will need a payoff -- sizable, or sometheen bad might happen. Catching Deb's eye, I ask her if she can escort our guests to the interiour lounge while I find some gold boullion for our visitors. Gee, suddenly they understand me very well. Just get them to an interiour room for a little while. These ships are extremely stable and you don't notice they're moving unless you're at a window (or we're doing evasive manuvers -- loop-de-loop?). Deb and KK smile a very beeg smile. Yes, indeed, can we get you something? Coffee? Tea? I know that look... that's the look that the female praying mantis gives the male when she decides his insurance money will put the kids through college quite well. Uh-oh, I also know THAT look. Buddy, inspite of having women on the staff, this is not a 50's secretarial pool. If you try that, I'm thinking you might wind up missing limbs. Listen, guys, I could save you trouble and just shoot you outright, but then we'd be short a plot point, and a lot of fun. Deb and KK giggle, girlishly, and take our friends by the arm and lead them to one of the lounges. Drinks for everyone, pshrynk is serving, so I know they'll be heavy. dvsick is hovering, but just to provide less privacy lest our friends get too frisky too soon. Pshrynk is serving the better booze, against my better judgement, but hey, I trust him to know how hard to hit. You want attractive bait before the hook is set. Hanger door is open, and we're easing out just over the water. The wash from the fans making a nice froth on the surface of the water. Makes me want espresso. We're at the edge of the harbor, still well within comfortable distance to land, but far enough that we're more grey than visible. In the lounge, a light flashes. Deb stands up and says "well gentlemen, its time to go." Not understanding, the big guy smiles and reaches a hand out for her wrist. He moves a fraction of an inch forward and stops. Well, kind of. There is a sharp pain in his throat, an inch above his sternum. A sharp pain that he can't quite get away from. Deb has one hand on his tie, reeling him in, and one hand on a very sharp stilletto, the tip pressed just against his neck. He notices that there's warm liquid pooling in his belly button. KK has done a dosey-do on her friend and has his arm twisted so far up behind his back that he can scratch his head. A bit melodramatic, yes? Sputtering, torn between wounded ego and not wanting to get wounded further, he resorts to implied theats, "you don't know who you are deeling weeth". "Oh, I'm sorry, what was your name?" He didn't think it was funny, but I did. I watch on the monitor as the women frog-walk the goons from the lounge down the corridor into the wheel house. Released to glare as us, they men are sizing up the situation. One guy reaches up to his shoulder, and looks puzzled. Deb tosses a couple of cheap pot-metal semis on the chart table. KK notes "You boys don't have a very big budget, these are crap". "Gentlemen, would you step out on the patio for a second?" Nobody's got guns, be these guys are not really comfortable with the thought of not being the main muscle. They're eyeing the hatch to the corridor, the chart table, the hatch, Deb, the door to the open patio, me, each other. They turn, slowly, facing the patio. You can see their shoulders tense as they get ready to spring... And a deep growl comes from the hatchway. You know, a dog sounds a LOT larger when you can't see it. Their shoulders drop and they move toward the patio. Deb follows them out. They look back inside the wheel house and WD(E), KK, and I head out, closing the hatchway. They go from puzzled to sly. They step apart and forward, moving so that Deb is more in line betwen them. They've ganged up on victims before. They look like the fox, for a little bit. It's not a good feeling when your target knows they're a target, and they're smiling. Deb faces one, and takes a step forward, and in a quick sweep, grabs lapels, pulls him close, and pushes hard, out and up, as she continues forward. I wish I had been there in person... I've never seen someone jetisoned so cleanly. The man shot backward off balance, caught his legs on the top of the railing, and tumbled over, disappearing in the gloom. A spash followed quickly -- the wheel-house observation deck was just a couple dozens of feet above the water. The second man panicked and rushed forward, whether to avenge his friend or try to safe him, I don't know. Deb turned half-way right, pushed off with her left foot, and dropped her right knee, and then stood up suddenly. And caught the man about two feet from the railing, and executed and perfect shoulder throw. The man followed his friend into the surf, and soon joined him yelling at the tops of their lungs. KK ask "why don't I ever have any fun?" Patience, I'm sure you'll get to shoot something, hit something, or blow something up. "Soon?" I promise. Molified, she stepped to the chart table, scooped the guns up and joined Deb on the patio, where she tried to bean one of the men with the guns. "He said I'd get to hit something soon... he promised. I'm just practicing." It's a quiet, moonless night... take a little altitude, set the auto-pilot, and step out to the mess for a light dinner. Geoff has several pounds of steamed broccoli, and no main course. The crew is sullen, except for Shortncuddly, who has chocolate. I decide to step to the lounge and drink my dinner. Tomorrow is another day. In about 9 hours. ---- So, anybody up for pirates? Energy weapons? Deeds of daring-do? Any ideas?

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03-10-2010, 03:09 PM	#48
poohbear_nc Bah! Humbug! Posts: 63,398 Karma: 135239851 Join Date: Feb 2009 Location: Durham, NC Device: Every Kindle Ever Made & To Be Made!	On second thought give it to vivaldirules - I need to stuff a feather pillow.

03-10-2010, 07:21 PM	#51
badgoodDeb Grand Sorcerer Posts: 8,549 Karma: 64462893 Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: Harrisburg outskirts Device: Palms, K1-4s, iPads, iPhones, KV, KO1	Oh dear. Is VR having identity issues this week? I'll go look for him.....

03-10-2010, 08:35 PM	#53
badgoodDeb Grand Sorcerer Posts: 8,549 Karma: 64462893 Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: Harrisburg outskirts Device: Palms, K1-4s, iPads, iPhones, KV, KO1	Drat! A body tries to do a little real world stuff, just once in a blue moon, mind you, and I wind up missing everything that's happened! I wish avatars could stay put with the note they were written with. Oh well...... Makes life interesting! He seems to have changed several times. He is a pencil drawn Yeates (maybe) right now.

03-11-2010, 01:16 AM	#59
mvisconte pHilosopher kIng Posts: 208 Karma: 429751 Join Date: Jul 2009 Location: An imperfect world Device: Laptop, laptop, desktop, phone (HTC, HTC, Asus, Asus, LG rah!)	Dang it. No, we didn't kill anybody. We're w/in swimming distance of land. And besides, you missed the part where Deb and KK try to frisbee two circular life preservers out to the two men. Bonked 'em pretty good, too.

03-11-2010, 01:33 AM	#60
GraceKrispy It's Dr. Penguin now! Posts: 3,909 Karma: 4705733 Join Date: Jan 2009 Location: (USA) Device: iPad mini, Samsung Note 3, Sony PRS-650 (rarely used now)	First I thought it was a dark chocolate piece of candy. Then I thought it was a cake with a small piece cut out. Chocolate cake, of course. Then I looked closer and realized it had a tail. How odd, a tail in a chocolate cake. Then it finally dawned... itʻs a fez, isnʻt it? Or an otterly bizarre stepstool with a small horse hiding inside?