Silliness Convenient Lies - Page 8

kindlekitten · 03-16-2010, 01:34 PM

ohhhh! cooked goose!

FlorenceArt · 03-16-2010, 01:38 PM

Will you all stop talking about food? Gee, is that all you can think about? Have a care for us hungry working classes!

pshrynk · 03-16-2010, 04:39 PM

We could start talking about cannibalism, instead.

But that would be redundant, I guess.

vivaldirules · 03-16-2010, 05:17 PM

I like cheese.

ShortNCuddlyAm · 03-16-2010, 05:31 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by FlorenceArt

Will you all stop talking about food? Gee, is that all you can think about? Have a care for us hungry working classes!

D'you want some chocolate? Maybe some brioche?

FlorenceArt · 03-16-2010, 05:37 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by ShortNCuddlyAm

D'you want some chocolate? Maybe some brioche?

Thanks, I'm feeling better now that I've had dinner

mvisconte · 03-17-2010, 01:51 AM

I.
Am.
SO.
Sorry.

I have left us stranded (or, at least wandering aimlessly [PULL!]). I got swamped in the Real World(tm) and haven't had time, energy, or brainz power to pen more electrons into the void.

But please, help yourselves... we've a fully stocked larder (hey, anybody works w/ me will at least be well fed -- in case we crash in the Andes, I want plump wreck-mates). Geese does sound like Good Eats, but my arms aren't that long... whose arms are those? I know KK is primed for 10 guage, and dvsick probably has the air-equivalent to fishing with dynamite.

No, not enemies here yet, but they're on the way...

While I've let us drift at the tender mercies of wind and gravity, they've both turn into fickle companions... or maybe just opportunistic. Look, there, on the horizon. No, no. There. There-er. More to the left. See it?

Why, if my heavily improvised script is any indication, we are about to be set upon by Pie-rates. Hey, it was just Pie Day, I'd think we'd rate a Pie-rate. Maybe even zombies, but I'll have to see how I feel in the brainz power department. If *I* were a zombie, I wouldn't want to eat MY brainz right now. All icky and siltified.

Anyway, the setup would have been... slow flabber leak, and while I'm STILL futzing with the manuals (Swahili is going good, but why did they switch to Pungostani in the mittle?), I haven't figured out "the OTHER red button" releases the twin gods of flabber-latulance, and and fan propultion. Really.

Geez, you can't make this stuff up.

So, we're drifting slowly lower, gently, gently... (get longer arms, there's another string of 400 geese at high altitude)... the fans have stopped turning (possibly out of gas), and we're drawiing flies, vultures, and sight-seeers.

Boats. Dozens. Big boats, ships even. Small boats, just big enough for a small boarding party. With party hats and noise-makers, and everything. And beeg sheeps! Someone copped a tanker, I think. All converging. With hamonicas. It's a harmonican convergence. All heading towards US.

At first, I thought it was a retired school marms' flotilla, 'tilla I saw that they're armed.

They're eyein' our booty(s). They think we're plunder. They think we're power-less (more or less), and help-less (and I get an amen?), and all sorts of other-lesses.

And right now, we are.

Ah, good button! Evidently, the former owners had just such an eventuality in mind. THAT button (the one marked "oh my! Pie-rates!") unlocks some additional passage ways.

Dang it, we're feelin' purty low here. We're maybe 100 feet of the surface of the water and the waves are makin' 1/2 of that.

Those dastardly dudes are planning a pillage. And we're the guest of honor.

Strange how the wind carries sound. Even now I here the faint "vip, vip, vip" of bees buzzing somewhere off shore. And if that shore didn't cause concern, I'm hearing the "ding, ding, ding" -- possibly an old timey gas station, with ye olde air bell to announce patrons.

No. Nope. Doesn't sounds quite like that. More like a "vzzz, vzzz, tink, tink..." And here am I, on the observation deck, puzzling, mystifying, and reading my tech manuals, and watching the waves stretch a little higher every hour. Those bees are getting close... I can see some dropping into the water. They should know better than to be this far from dry land. I should know better than to be this far from a dry gin martini. I'll have to remedy that.

Son of a gun, there's a lot of ships now... the closer they get, the bigger those somsa-birtches are. And that ain't no school marm convention, lesson those marms are celebrating summer break. Them's a bunch a guys, and they're waving broomstick around. Nope, my bad. Boom sticks. They're wavning booms stick around. Ah, it all becomes clear.

ALARM! ALARM! WARNING! End of post is imminent!

Prepare to be boarded! Paddle stations! (we gotta increase the speed somehow).

Geoff, not waiting to cook my goose, has shimmied up the scaffolding, and found the lost passageways.

While Deb and KK are gleefully anticipating causing human mayhem, pshrynk is busy battening down hatches, and tossing down shots. At least he's had all his shots.

WD(E) is running up and down the corridor "aroo!-ing" and scrambing back and forth yelling "dam the torpedos! Full speed ahead!!"

dvsick is wishing he'd signed on a real adventure thread and not this garbage scow, but looking forward to fun at the expense of others.

Oh, I don't mind telling you, things are looking pretty grim for our heros (that's us, for those of you playing along at home).

A strange electricity is in the air, we're ALL tense and excited! All the fair hair on the back of my neck is standing on end -- and doing deep kimchi bends to stay in shape. This'll be MUCH better than drinking our way across the Atlantic, dining on fillet mignon, goose, peasant under glass (teach HIM to stow away!), and chocolate meese. And, if any of us survive, this of the tails we're tell, next time we're drunk and in port. Or maybe drunk ON port. In a storm.

Oh oh... LOUD noises... Hey, that ain't fair, these buggers got heavy weapons... at, from the sound, some cannon, some cow bell, at least one bass, and one AA gun. Keep coming back, it works when you work it!

Our outer hull can take the tick-tack of small arms, but heavy arms is gonna put a dent in MY plans.

OK, BATTLE STATIONS PEOPLE, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. This is, and this is a screw-driver, 'cuz is things don't work out, we're screwed.

My lips and nose are getting fuzzy-wuzzy numbsy. Maybe I should go inside now.

Wow... that's some atmospheric we're suffering through out there. And look at that glow. Hey! What's going on up there!? OK, we're getting too close for comfort to the waves... between the ships bearing down on us, the loss of attitude, and general malaise I'm hinting at, we're in a fix. Once the waves hit us, we'll lose any for'd momentum and it'll be all drag from then on. If we take a couple of direct hits in the fusilage, we're goin' down, and not in a good way. Maybe I should be guarding the booze and chocolate w/ Am.

Deb has found a cutlass somewhere (did you have that ON you this whole time? Dang, that's good!) and is buckling her swashes. KK is grinning devilishly. I don't like that light in her eye. Or the other one, either. I'm glad it's not ME gonna be trying to take this place by force.

I'm hearing water sizzling now, we must be close. Ladies, I must insist on stereo types. Sansui, Technica, Sony. I know it's useless, but I have to act gallant. Please get everyone to as high a ground as possible, even tho' we're in an airship. Take as much food, or at least booze as you can, and I'll stay down there, picking and poking buttons, and hoping that I find a good one. Save one shot for yourselves, but be kind and shoot your crew members first, if it is totally hopeless. Well, YEAH, shoot the PIRATES first... but I mean, save shots for yourselved IF it's HOPELESS. Sheesh. I get tongue-tied at time like this. Look, a granny knot. Eewww.

A crackle. A hiss. Mean while, on the top deck, just above the hot tub just above the bar, Geoff has found a bubblicious cove with a gimble-mounted form-fitting strapped seat, and a neato video game. I don't know who makes it, but it's an FPS, and he's playing as if his life depended on it. More importantly, he's playing as if his crewmates lives depended on it. Ah, what I wouldn't give for heavy artillary at a time like this. Or a little light AA gun. Or a light gun.

Geoff, following the glow-in-the-dark arrows stuck in the flooring, came to a door that said "Do not enter, private." Since we don't hold ranks, per se, he's not a private, and he entered.

"Ah, a Mark Vee Eye Eye phased plasma cannon. Crikey! I haven't seen one of these since, well, since I learned I could do a fitting Steve Irwin imitation! Flanners in place, Feet in pedals, these are the crank-things. Heads-up display. Snorkle. Aiming handle. Pickle button. Button that goes "BUZZ". All's in order. Power (click)(Hummm). Cameras on. Spin. 127 degrees, sou'sou'west. Tip the cap on the pickle. Hm... auto gyros. We'll have sandwiches before tis done! Sight, sight, sight. [At this point, I'd like to say, "You've only got ONE SHOT! MAKE IT GOOD!" -- but I wasn't there, I was down one the lower deck being uselessly gallant. Besides, this thing had a hellacious battery... it's good for 1/2 an hour, at least]. He presses the button that goes "BUZZ" and a bright shaft of light flicks on against the distance.

Wowser... one of those ships just fell down. Well, kind of... fell apart's more like it. Just opened up like an over-ripe melon. Melons. Stay on task here, boy. "Click, BUZZ, pop." WHOA - another ship -- lots of flames... they must have had a tanker.

A series of clicks and pops and buzzes can be felt through the ships. A swath of steam rows up from the waves. Several of the closest distant boats founder and slowly roll to their sides, crew splashing into the water as they hike over the sides.

Buzzes and pops and that fuzzy feeling in my scalp again. Several pilot houses burst into flame, one after another. Crews are jumping, life-boats are being cut loose. Some of the pirates are turning on their own... Crew on deck shooting crews boarding lifeboats. First mates and captains shooting fleeing pirates in the back, others shooting those getting ready to launch lifeboats, to take their places. Eventually, first mates and captains turning on each other trying to get to safety.

The neat thing about a panick is, those who suffer thought them are strengthened. Those who succumb often take those around them along. A few front ships are in pieces, sinking, some further out are aflame, crews in disorder. Ten times that number, of all shapes and sizes are suddenly milling about like confused ants, crissing and crossing, some running into others. If I were monitoring the radio waves, I would hear a melange of mayhem, a patois of panick. Warnings shouted out, pleadng, crying, swearing. Anger. Fear. Panick. I love a happy ending. Fear takes the place of anger. Panick the place of fear. Suddenly, instead of predators, they are mice.

The larger ships drift at speed now, captains eyeing the horizon, look at a shiney zeppelin and smoke on the water. and fire in the sky. The radios are all but useless, all possible channels filled with unintelligible noise of voices. Smaller ships slow quickly to bob unhappily on the 50 foot waves. Attention on tension everywhere... and nobody watching the store. a heavy cargo carrier, screws idling, doesn't stop for the smaller ship that is stopped before it, captains both scanning the waves for a clue to situation. No clews, no shout-outs, no phone-a-friends (seriously, what Pirate has friends?), no hope of figuring it out in the next ten minutes. Boats crossing to and fro, and to again. Ships coasting for miles, crushing and crunching the careless. One tanker captain makes a command decision -- the calls out ALL ENGINES, REVERSE -- in a panicked attempt to put some control on the vessel. The water at the stern froths into a live creature. Cargo tumbles from stacks, crushing whatever, whoever is under on deck. The ship lurches to starboard. Smaller ships and boats near the stern are now caught in a maelstrom of wind, water, and heavy metal, and the sea evidently disappears from under them -- heavy, murderous spinning blades taking its place. The sound of grinding, tearing metel.

The din of war slowly recedes, leaving the sounds of survivors shooting those trying to get into the remaining lifeboats, screams, and curses.

It's peaceful now... all we hear is the hiss of the wind, the wash of the waves, so close to the undercarriage. It won't be long now, maybe only a few hours, maybe not.

Well, we're safe for the time being, and a sober reflection on life and how precious it is, is certainly in order. To bad we won't be sober. You think you're gonna die, you deserve a drink. On me -- I stole it all anyway.

Ah, the "oh my! Pie-rates!" button is priceless. I can hardly wait to press the "Aieee! Aliens!" button.

Geoff joins us, looking a little sheepish. WD(E) kids him about hiding during the furious fighting we experienced on the main decks. I can't help it, and I ask, "Geoff... I thought you were a vegetarian!?" "Aye. but Ah'm no' a &^$$!! Ah'm no' abou'o stand by idly while me mates are in danger. I tol' em, "ya attack one o' us, I'll have yer knacker hangin' from me rearview mirror! Now, who wants broccoli? I've a nice cheese sauce!"

Where did he get THA' accent!?

"I was once a royal marine!"

Really? Royal! I never would have guessed... with the skirt and everything?

"It's a KILT, which is wha' Yuull be if you don't let it lie, laddie!"

Well, never let it be said that I don't know when to quit.

So much for a quick outline of what was going to happen. Sigh... another 3 hours of sleep tonight, and another 12 hour day tomorrow. Luckily, that still leaves me 9 hours for travel, eating, personal ablutions, and total mental collapse.

mvisconte · 03-17-2010, 01:52 AM

PS... any misspellings were either intentional, or artistic, or some other excuse that makes me look not so dumb.

kindlekitten · 03-17-2010, 02:05 AM

not to worry! as long as I have my trusty Sharps rifle, I am good up to a mile!

and if anyone actually manages to board the ship, well they call me the Lady Mantis in some circles for a reason

dsvick · 03-17-2010, 08:56 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by mvisconte

They're eyein' our booty(s).

See that is the problem, there we are floating around happily in the air when some of the crew, having been confined to quarters for unauthorized button pushing, decide it would be a good idea to hang their posteriors out of the port holes and moon those nice young people in their boats.

What we need is a decorum teacher.

Quote:

Originally Posted by kindlekitten

... and if anyone actually manages to board the ship, well they call me the Lady Mantis in some circles for a reason

"Lady Mantis"!? Don't mantis' eat their... weren't you ....

I don't think you get to be the decorum councilor.

kindlekitten · 03-17-2010, 10:57 AM

I have learned to limit it to the bad guys! ;o)

FlorenceArt · 03-17-2010, 11:00 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by kindlekitten

I have learned to limit it to the bad guys! ;o)

And how many tries did that take?

kindlekitten · 03-17-2010, 11:05 AM

that's classified

dsvick · 03-17-2010, 11:28 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by kindlekitten

I have learned to limit it to the bad guys! ;o)

I'm glad I'm a good guy then. Well, I'm glad we're on the same team at any rate.

kindlekitten · 03-17-2010, 11:49 AM

very good and let's keep it that way! ;o)

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03-16-2010, 01:34 PM	#106
kindlekitten Professional Adventuress Posts: 13,368 Karma: 50260224 Join Date: Sep 2009 Location: The Olympic Peninsula on the OTHER Washington! (the big green clean one on the west coast!) Device: Kindle, the original! Times Two! and gifting an International Kindle	ohhhh! cooked goose!

03-16-2010, 01:38 PM	#107
FlorenceArt High Priestess Posts: 5,761 Karma: 5042529 Join Date: Jul 2008 Location: Montreuil sous bois, France Device: iPad Pro 9.7, iPhone 6 Plus	Will you all stop talking about food? Gee, is that all you can think about? Have a care for us hungry working classes!

03-16-2010, 04:39 PM	#108
pshrynk Beepbeep n beebeep, yeah! Posts: 11,726 Karma: 8255450 Join Date: Apr 2008 Location: La Crosse, Wisconsin, aka America's IceBox Device: iThingie, KmkII, I miss Zelda!	We could start talking about cannibalism, instead. But that would be redundant, I guess.

03-16-2010, 05:17 PM	#109
vivaldirules When's Doughnut Day? Posts: 10,059 Karma: 13675475 Join Date: Jul 2007 Location: Houston, TX, US Device: Sony PRS-505, iPad	I like cheese.

03-17-2010, 01:51 AM	#112
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!)	I. Am. SO. Sorry. I have left us stranded (or, at least wandering aimlessly [PULL!]). I got swamped in the Real World(tm) and haven't had time, energy, or brainz power to pen more electrons into the void. But please, help yourselves... we've a fully stocked larder (hey, anybody works w/ me will at least be well fed -- in case we crash in the Andes, I want plump wreck-mates). Geese does sound like Good Eats, but my arms aren't that long... whose arms are those? I know KK is primed for 10 guage, and dvsick probably has the air-equivalent to fishing with dynamite. No, not enemies here yet, but they're on the way... While I've let us drift at the tender mercies of wind and gravity, they've both turn into fickle companions... or maybe just opportunistic. Look, there, on the horizon. No, no. There. There-er. More to the left. See it? Why, if my heavily improvised script is any indication, we are about to be set upon by Pie-rates. Hey, it was just Pie Day, I'd think we'd rate a Pie-rate. Maybe even zombies, but I'll have to see how I feel in the brainz power department. If I were a zombie, I wouldn't want to eat MY brainz right now. All icky and siltified. Anyway, the setup would have been... slow flabber leak, and while I'm STILL futzing with the manuals (Swahili is going good, but why did they switch to Pungostani in the mittle?), I haven't figured out "the OTHER red button" releases the twin gods of flabber-latulance, and and fan propultion. Really. Geez, you can't make this stuff up. So, we're drifting slowly lower, gently, gently... (get longer arms, there's another string of 400 geese at high altitude)... the fans have stopped turning (possibly out of gas), and we're drawiing flies, vultures, and sight-seeers. Boats. Dozens. Big boats, ships even. Small boats, just big enough for a small boarding party. With party hats and noise-makers, and everything. And beeg sheeps! Someone copped a tanker, I think. All converging. With hamonicas. It's a harmonican convergence. All heading towards US. At first, I thought it was a retired school marms' flotilla, 'tilla I saw that they're armed. They're eyein' our booty(s). They think we're plunder. They think we're power-less (more or less), and help-less (and I get an amen?), and all sorts of other-lesses. And right now, we are. Ah, good button! Evidently, the former owners had just such an eventuality in mind. THAT button (the one marked "oh my! Pie-rates!") unlocks some additional passage ways. Dang it, we're feelin' purty low here. We're maybe 100 feet of the surface of the water and the waves are makin' 1/2 of that. Those dastardly dudes are planning a pillage. And we're the guest of honor. Strange how the wind carries sound. Even now I here the faint "vip, vip, vip" of bees buzzing somewhere off shore. And if that shore didn't cause concern, I'm hearing the "ding, ding, ding" -- possibly an old timey gas station, with ye olde air bell to announce patrons. No. Nope. Doesn't sounds quite like that. More like a "vzzz, vzzz, tink, tink..." And here am I, on the observation deck, puzzling, mystifying, and reading my tech manuals, and watching the waves stretch a little higher every hour. Those bees are getting close... I can see some dropping into the water. They should know better than to be this far from dry land. I should know better than to be this far from a dry gin martini. I'll have to remedy that. Son of a gun, there's a lot of ships now... the closer they get, the bigger those somsa-birtches are. And that ain't no school marm convention, lesson those marms are celebrating summer break. Them's a bunch a guys, and they're waving broomstick around. Nope, my bad. Boom sticks. They're wavning booms stick around. Ah, it all becomes clear. ALARM! ALARM! WARNING! End of post is imminent! Prepare to be boarded! Paddle stations! (we gotta increase the speed somehow). Geoff, not waiting to cook my goose, has shimmied up the scaffolding, and found the lost passageways. While Deb and KK are gleefully anticipating causing human mayhem, pshrynk is busy battening down hatches, and tossing down shots. At least he's had all his shots. WD(E) is running up and down the corridor "aroo!-ing" and scrambing back and forth yelling "dam the torpedos! Full speed ahead!!" dvsick is wishing he'd signed on a real adventure thread and not this garbage scow, but looking forward to fun at the expense of others. Oh, I don't mind telling you, things are looking pretty grim for our heros (that's us, for those of you playing along at home). A strange electricity is in the air, we're ALL tense and excited! All the fair hair on the back of my neck is standing on end -- and doing deep kimchi bends to stay in shape. This'll be MUCH better than drinking our way across the Atlantic, dining on fillet mignon, goose, peasant under glass (teach HIM to stow away!), and chocolate meese. And, if any of us survive, this of the tails we're tell, next time we're drunk and in port. Or maybe drunk ON port. In a storm. Oh oh... LOUD noises... Hey, that ain't fair, these buggers got heavy weapons... at, from the sound, some cannon, some cow bell, at least one bass, and one AA gun. Keep coming back, it works when you work it! Our outer hull can take the tick-tack of small arms, but heavy arms is gonna put a dent in MY plans. OK, BATTLE STATIONS PEOPLE, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. This is, and this is a screw-driver, 'cuz is things don't work out, we're screwed. My lips and nose are getting fuzzy-wuzzy numbsy. Maybe I should go inside now. Wow... that's some atmospheric we're suffering through out there. And look at that glow. Hey! What's going on up there!? OK, we're getting too close for comfort to the waves... between the ships bearing down on us, the loss of attitude, and general malaise I'm hinting at, we're in a fix. Once the waves hit us, we'll lose any for'd momentum and it'll be all drag from then on. If we take a couple of direct hits in the fusilage, we're goin' down, and not in a good way. Maybe I should be guarding the booze and chocolate w/ Am. Deb has found a cutlass somewhere (did you have that ON you this whole time? Dang, that's good!) and is buckling her swashes. KK is grinning devilishly. I don't like that light in her eye. Or the other one, either. I'm glad it's not ME gonna be trying to take this place by force. I'm hearing water sizzling now, we must be close. Ladies, I must insist on stereo types. Sansui, Technica, Sony. I know it's useless, but I have to act gallant. Please get everyone to as high a ground as possible, even tho' we're in an airship. Take as much food, or at least booze as you can, and I'll stay down there, picking and poking buttons, and hoping that I find a good one. Save one shot for yourselves, but be kind and shoot your crew members first, if it is totally hopeless. Well, YEAH, shoot the PIRATES first... but I mean, save shots for yourselved IF it's HOPELESS. Sheesh. I get tongue-tied at time like this. Look, a granny knot. Eewww. A crackle. A hiss. Mean while, on the top deck, just above the hot tub just above the bar, Geoff has found a bubblicious cove with a gimble-mounted form-fitting strapped seat, and a neato video game. I don't know who makes it, but it's an FPS, and he's playing as if his life depended on it. More importantly, he's playing as if his crewmates lives depended on it. Ah, what I wouldn't give for heavy artillary at a time like this. Or a little light AA gun. Or a light gun. Geoff, following the glow-in-the-dark arrows stuck in the flooring, came to a door that said "Do not enter, private." Since we don't hold ranks, per se, he's not a private, and he entered. "Ah, a Mark Vee Eye Eye phased plasma cannon. Crikey! I haven't seen one of these since, well, since I learned I could do a fitting Steve Irwin imitation! Flanners in place, Feet in pedals, these are the crank-things. Heads-up display. Snorkle. Aiming handle. Pickle button. Button that goes "BUZZ". All's in order. Power (click)(Hummm). Cameras on. Spin. 127 degrees, sou'sou'west. Tip the cap on the pickle. Hm... auto gyros. We'll have sandwiches before tis done! Sight, sight, sight. [At this point, I'd like to say, "You've only got ONE SHOT! MAKE IT GOOD!" -- but I wasn't there, I was down one the lower deck being uselessly gallant. Besides, this thing had a hellacious battery... it's good for 1/2 an hour, at least]. He presses the button that goes "BUZZ" and a bright shaft of light flicks on against the distance. Wowser... one of those ships just fell down. Well, kind of... fell apart's more like it. Just opened up like an over-ripe melon. Melons. Stay on task here, boy. "Click, BUZZ, pop." WHOA - another ship -- lots of flames... they must have had a tanker. A series of clicks and pops and buzzes can be felt through the ships. A swath of steam rows up from the waves. Several of the closest distant boats founder and slowly roll to their sides, crew splashing into the water as they hike over the sides. Buzzes and pops and that fuzzy feeling in my scalp again. Several pilot houses burst into flame, one after another. Crews are jumping, life-boats are being cut loose. Some of the pirates are turning on their own... Crew on deck shooting crews boarding lifeboats. First mates and captains shooting fleeing pirates in the back, others shooting those getting ready to launch lifeboats, to take their places. Eventually, first mates and captains turning on each other trying to get to safety. The neat thing about a panick is, those who suffer thought them are strengthened. Those who succumb often take those around them along. A few front ships are in pieces, sinking, some further out are aflame, crews in disorder. Ten times that number, of all shapes and sizes are suddenly milling about like confused ants, crissing and crossing, some running into others. If I were monitoring the radio waves, I would hear a melange of mayhem, a patois of panick. Warnings shouted out, pleadng, crying, swearing. Anger. Fear. Panick. I love a happy ending. Fear takes the place of anger. Panick the place of fear. Suddenly, instead of predators, they are mice. The larger ships drift at speed now, captains eyeing the horizon, look at a shiney zeppelin and smoke on the water. and fire in the sky. The radios are all but useless, all possible channels filled with unintelligible noise of voices. Smaller ships slow quickly to bob unhappily on the 50 foot waves. Attention on tension everywhere... and nobody watching the store. a heavy cargo carrier, screws idling, doesn't stop for the smaller ship that is stopped before it, captains both scanning the waves for a clue to situation. No clews, no shout-outs, no phone-a-friends (seriously, what Pirate has friends?), no hope of figuring it out in the next ten minutes. Boats crossing to and fro, and to again. Ships coasting for miles, crushing and crunching the careless. One tanker captain makes a command decision -- the calls out ALL ENGINES, REVERSE -- in a panicked attempt to put some control on the vessel. The water at the stern froths into a live creature. Cargo tumbles from stacks, crushing whatever, whoever is under on deck. The ship lurches to starboard. Smaller ships and boats near the stern are now caught in a maelstrom of wind, water, and heavy metal, and the sea evidently disappears from under them -- heavy, murderous spinning blades taking its place. The sound of grinding, tearing metel. The din of war slowly recedes, leaving the sounds of survivors shooting those trying to get into the remaining lifeboats, screams, and curses. It's peaceful now... all we hear is the hiss of the wind, the wash of the waves, so close to the undercarriage. It won't be long now, maybe only a few hours, maybe not. Well, we're safe for the time being, and a sober reflection on life and how precious it is, is certainly in order. To bad we won't be sober. You think you're gonna die, you deserve a drink. On me -- I stole it all anyway. Ah, the "oh my! Pie-rates!" button is priceless. I can hardly wait to press the "Aieee! Aliens!" button. Geoff joins us, looking a little sheepish. WD(E) kids him about hiding during the furious fighting we experienced on the main decks. I can't help it, and I ask, "Geoff... I thought you were a vegetarian!?" "Aye. but Ah'm no' a &^$$!! Ah'm no' abou'o stand by idly while me mates are in danger. I tol' em, "ya attack one o' us, I'll have yer knacker hangin' from me rearview mirror! Now, who wants broccoli? I've a nice cheese sauce!" Where did he get THA' accent!? "I was once a royal marine!" Really? Royal! I never would have guessed... with the skirt and everything? "It's a KILT, which is wha' Yuull be if you don't let it lie, laddie!" Well, never let it be said that I don't know when to quit. So much for a quick outline of what was going to happen. Sigh... another 3 hours of sleep tonight, and another 12 hour day tomorrow. Luckily, that still leaves me 9 hours for travel, eating, personal ablutions, and total mental collapse.

03-17-2010, 01:52 AM	#113
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!)	PS... any misspellings were either intentional, or artistic, or some other excuse that makes me look not so dumb.

03-17-2010, 02:05 AM	#114
kindlekitten Professional Adventuress Posts: 13,368 Karma: 50260224 Join Date: Sep 2009 Location: The Olympic Peninsula on the OTHER Washington! (the big green clean one on the west coast!) Device: Kindle, the original! Times Two! and gifting an International Kindle	not to worry! as long as I have my trusty Sharps rifle, I am good up to a mile! and if anyone actually manages to board the ship, well they call me the Lady Mantis in some circles for a reason

03-17-2010, 10:57 AM	#116
kindlekitten Professional Adventuress Posts: 13,368 Karma: 50260224 Join Date: Sep 2009 Location: The Olympic Peninsula on the OTHER Washington! (the big green clean one on the west coast!) Device: Kindle, the original! Times Two! and gifting an International Kindle	I have learned to limit it to the bad guys! ;o)

03-17-2010, 11:05 AM	#118
kindlekitten Professional Adventuress Posts: 13,368 Karma: 50260224 Join Date: Sep 2009 Location: The Olympic Peninsula on the OTHER Washington! (the big green clean one on the west coast!) Device: Kindle, the original! Times Two! and gifting an International Kindle	that's classified

03-17-2010, 11:49 AM	#120
kindlekitten Professional Adventuress Posts: 13,368 Karma: 50260224 Join Date: Sep 2009 Location: The Olympic Peninsula on the OTHER Washington! (the big green clean one on the west coast!) Device: Kindle, the original! Times Two! and gifting an International Kindle	very good and let's keep it that way! ;o)