Unutterably Silly Convenient Lies

[ShortNCuddlyAm]

Originally Posted by mvisconte

KK - AM, did you know that you can wear black high heels with that, and the guys go STUPID.

Deb - There was a guy that hid away and watched me dressing once. HE went blind.

AM - Wow! You must be hella sexy!

Deb - No, I blinded him. Not permanently, you know... this is still pretty PG-13, but none-the-less. Blind. And deaf. 'Cuz I hit him in the ear.

Geoff - Ok, I feel better now. Listen, I made some dessert. Molton Death by Dark Delux Chocolate. With chocolate jimmies on it.

Captain Ryker - THERE ARE THREE LIGHTS (sob)!!! NO! FIVE!

Me - You're not in the series. Please return.

Phew! I thought I'd walked onto the wrong set. Although for the chocolate dessert, I'd've stayed.

[GeoffC]

coughs ....

splutters ....


who put THAT there....

cough cough, bbrrreerrrrr ..... bbbbbrrrrrpppppp ......

doesn't anyone tidy up around here.................................my gatling's full of chocolate, I need something to aim at to clear out the barrels .....

[mvisconte]

What!? You let your gat get filled with choco!? That's... that's... BLASPHEMOUS! Or maybe it's just a waste of good chocolate. Was that an early batch that didn't turn out just right?

Well, I'm not one to shoot my mouth off (especially when filled with yummy chocolate), but I will have to comment... you want to SHOOT something!? You're quite the hero, but... we are stuck in the ground in Podunk, Virginia (around the corner from East Jabyp).

We can't just go shootin' up the neighborhood (not that there's much else to do out here...). We have so much to do and we haven't even (made it to South America, made it to Chile, made it to Mexico, made it to jail!). We've such a long way to go. Be patient my fren', or we'll wind up in jail before we're ready. (Can you REALLY be ready to go to jail?)

And, just for props, let me quote Al Pacino for AM and your gat:

"Say 'hello' to my leetle fren!"



Shall I cut a little to the chase? Or chase a little to a short cut? Or something a little something for the something?

I don't get much time to write like I write, and I'm too poorly disciplined to simply write a short episode. Can I do it? Can I? I doubt it. Let me try...








Tall, Dark, and Ugly sat in our little meeting, looking back and forth and fifth and around. He had quit paying attention to what was being said, but I noticed he kept casting shy, sideways glances at Deb. He noticed KK and AM watching him and giggling to each other and he turned several shades of deeper and deeper red. He sat back in his chair, and proceeded to slide as low as he could in embarrassment. This didn't have much of an effect (other than comedic) as even when he scrunched down as far as he could, he was still taller than DS Vick standing at attention. Not the "ten-hut!" attention (get your minds out of the gutters), but at "TEN-SHUN!" attention. Vick was nursing a scotch and grinning at TD&U's discomfiture, happy to have the girls giggling at someone else for the nonce.

Pshrynk was keeping everybody well lubricated, pouring expensive booze as fast as it was drunk. Speaking of which, we soon would be.

Needing to turn attention back to our predicament, I "ting-ed" on my glass with our little dessert fork until everyone quieted down and slowly focused their attention back to me. Slowly and focused were related, due to the librication their brains were functioning under. I find that it quickens MY thought processes... or at least *I* think that I think faster. The internal eye is always vigilant. Or something. Dang, how much had *I* had? I wondered and noticed that my martini had mysteriously re-filled itself. Wow! What a magnificent invention... the bottomless martini glass. It was right up there with topless car washes an-

Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Off in the distance, a train whistle blew. A long, slow, mornful wail in the night. We were stuck, and stuck good. For all I knew, the radio was broken. Damned if *I* wanted to live the rest of my life before I was born. Or something. Is it warm in here? What leather certainly looks. Warm. I'm sorry. What did I say?

Stuckers. Yes, we're stuckers. Did you just hear a train? Whistle? Yes! I heard it too!

HEY! TD&U, what's up with you?

Tall, Dark, and Uglier had forgotten his embarrassment and was sitting with his elbows on the table, his face in his hards... a small puddle was forming in front of him. A subtle sobbing was heard coming from behind his hands.

"Dang, he sounds like a fire alarm! You! What's wrong!?"

Like I said, soft, subtle sobbing.

KK walked over behind his chair and reached up and put a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong, honey? You ok?"

At this, the sobbing grew louder and turned from soft into whimpering wails. The girls looked like they had come across a lost puppy. The guys looked a little uncomfortable, looking back and forth from one to another, not quite sure whether to be concerned or disgusted.

"Awww! What's wrong?", said AM. She couldn't reach his shoulder until he put his head on the table, his sobs subsiding. AM pulled him to her and craddled his head in her chest. I looked at Vick and noticed tears in HIS eyes.

"WAIT A MINUTE!" I yelled... "This isn't how the story goes!"

"Sometimes they kind of get away from you, don't they?" Pshrynk offered sage wisdom and began polishing the bar again.

Our gargantuan friend pulled himself together and noticed his position. He pulled back in horror, standing to his full height... not a good thing, as AM panicked and tightened her hold on his head. She was pulled off the ground to a height from which the floor looked quite far away. She shreiked and wrapped her legs around the giant's chest -- or would have, if they had fit. The man-beast was in full panic also at this point and started pistoning his legs as if he were trying to peddle backwards. KK, still behind him, was unfortunately only an obstacle and he was going to burst right through her as this speed. Deb jumped up and launched herself across the tables, intent on protecting AM or whatever happened to need protecting at the moment. Fine thing! Leaving ME unprotected.

KK twisted left in an attempt to get from under the juggernaut, and promptly fell, causing a bigger obstacle. As the giant continued in his retreat, the back of his knee met the new obstacle and he started over backwards, his center of gravity thrown off by a short and cuddly package wrapped desperately around him. At just that second, a flying Deb collided with the giant's midrift. KK wriggled out and jumped to her feet, turning to face what seemed like a mass of writhing arms, legs, and leather. Seeing the impending collapse, SHE grabbed ahold of the column as it went teetering by. A crash, a collapse, and a pile of women a-stradle a mound of man on top of a chair reduced to kindling.

Looking on and watching in disbelief (and from the expression, somewhat of envy), DS Vick shook his head and slowly dropped his face into his hands, sobbing gently.

A flash of fur and a joyeous barking joined the mound, and just for good measure, Geoff waded in, kicking legs and laughing, evidently enjoying himself greatly.

Pshrync, behind the bar, looked up at me and said, "Shall we"?

"No, when I wrestle and there are ladies involved, I prefer the odds to be slightly more in my favor."

"Aw heck, with everybody on top, even that giant can't escape."

"That's not what I meant. My preference would be less giant, less dog, less cook/gunner, and even less voyeurs." I smile wryly, hoping that Pshrynk wouldn't make me explain it.

"What do you mean?" asked Pshrynk.

"Oh bother!" I turned and launched myself into the fray to prevent any further elucidation. I heard a whoop from behind me and Pshrynk did a cannon-ball off the bar into the mass.

Between the leather, subcutaneous padding, hair, perfume (and a litte sweat), and peeks at intermammary sulcus, I didn't even notice the punches, several kicks to the shins (thanks, Geoff), a head butt (DS Vick - ouch), an elbow to the eye, and at least one pinch. That last one was kind of gentle and nice, and I'm hoping it was one of the lovely ladies instead of The Giant. I can hope, at least.

After several minutes of wrestling and grunts, the fighting turn from urgent to laughter and giggles, and we slowly pried ourselves apart.

Climbing to our feet, I noticed even the giant was smiling, having lost some of his fear of the women. Nothing like being up close and personal with your fears to get over them.

"So, Andre, what was with the copious flow of lacrimal fluids?"

"Whut?"

"heh... I meant 'Why were you crying?'"

"Ah KNOW thet, I watch cartoons. Whut didju call me?"

"Ah... Andre. From a wrestler in my day. Andre the Giant. Before your time, I guess."

"Aw. You can just call me

[mvisconte]

Nope, I couldn't do it. I can't just write a quick riff and be done. It's never a "give me a minute, I just was to dash off a quick note." It's always "this is gonna take a while. Siddown, Relax, put yer feet up."


Looking at the birth, death, and prison records for Virginia in the early decades, I notice the number of birth certs where the child's name is given as "Not Named (boy)", etc. Not suprising, I guess...

The birth records list the ages of the parents, which I find a little interesting at times. I see 40 (man), 21 (woman), and even one 56 (man), 23 (woman). Gives me hope for my middle ages, maybe.

Our friend was born in Dungannon, although his parents lived outside Dwina. His father was raised in Crab Orchard, and had lived there pretty much all his life. Don't get the idea that he was a "rube", tho', because he was a MAN of the world. He had been overseas in the horrific World War, and had done his best to show the mighty Hun that America would not stand idly by while her allies were trifled with. So many boys went over and some men came back. The father, tho', went over a man in the first place. Used to subsistence living, being raised on land, used to hardships and caring for himself, he was a natural. He was a natural born sharpshooter, although the new-fangled guns were a puzzle to him. Still, men used tools, and that was a tool. He was a hunter, and that's what he did. He was an excellent sniper, although that carried it's own stigma in the day. "Real men" hunkered in a bunker, and lobbed cannon fire. And were drowned in the mud, over-run by masses, bayonetted, gassed, starved, and died of very minor injuries through infection, from exposure, dysintery, and friendly fire. Our friend's father lived off the fat of the land, not being above poaching eggs, chicken, fish, and even dogs and cats if necessary. It was no big deal to sleep under the sky, and years of living the outlaw life had made him quite a light sleeper. He would show up at camp (carefully -- NO fire is friendly) and resupply. Ammo, guns, clothing, food on occasion. The brass let him go, as they learned early on that he wasn't going to do what they want and after seeing his results, they decided that having a roving disaster on their side was not such a bad thing.

He was fond of fighting, and in the beginning, he was fond of killing, but the novelty wore off quickly. Whether it was the repetition or the fact that it was legal, the thrill left, and he was just a very good army man. He knew the job, and that he was saving lives. He didn't think of it as heroic, just as an important job. One that, once completed, would let him go back home and get back to the fun stuff.

He was a driver, and he enjoyed that. The thrill never went away. Driving is suds-o-fun, mainly because of the power, the skill it required, and the pay, but especially because it was illegal.

It was on a shine run that his dad met his mother. Her folks were from Frog Level, 70 or even 80 miles away, depending upon the roads, whether, and who was pursung him. He had just outrun his third patrol that night and he was figuring that maybe laying low would be a good thing... He was a little tired and he's rather sleep outside, although the jails had improved greatly over the years. He had taken what passed for roads for hours, sometimes frighteningly fast, sometimes stealthily slow, sometimes pulling off the road and camouflaging the car. He had made his way north and then east, based on what roads looked passable, and what fields were plowed and how close the trees were to the roads.

He arrived outside of Frog Level about dusk -- just about the time he had started driving, the night before. He hadn't had much to eat. A couple dry sandwiches and some warm beer. During one of the breaks, he had broken out a jar and drank enough to worry himself about how good his driving skills would be, but after several hours, it had worn off.

He noticed a gathering in a farmer's field, not to far down a dry, dirt path, and he swerved off road and down the path far enough to hide his car behind some bushes and saplings. He got out and dusted himself off, and ambled over to the shindig, figuring on grabbing a couple handfuls of chicken or beef or whatever he would get, and getting back on the road.

Then he saw the farmer's daughter.

They raise women differently in the country. I don't know if it's the clean air, the fresh food, the quantity, the physical work, or what, but their women? VA-VA-VA-VOOM!


(sorry, I tried to make it short, and type faster, but it's ust not working... I'll add some more, tomorrow...)

[dsvick]

I wasn't crying - it still occasionally tears up for no good reason, I think it from when Am hit me.

[badgoodDeb]

Oh -- it's ANDRE!! Or a relation of his. Andre is a sweetie pie. Maybe our giant is too, underneath it all.

(just re-watched Princess Bride a few days ago, while recovering from surgery. Big kudos to Andre!)

[FlorenceArt]

Originally Posted by badgoodDeb

Oh -- it's ANDRE!! Or a relation of his. Andre is a sweetie pie. Maybe our giant is too, underneath it all.

(just re-watched Princess Bride a few days ago, while recovering from surgery. Big kudos to Andre!)

[ShortNCuddlyAm]

Originally Posted by dsvick

I wasn't crying - it still occasionally tears up for no good reason, I think it from when Am hit me.

I didn't hit you that hard! I can't have done, I've got no bruises...

[dsvick]

Originally Posted by ShortNCuddlyAm

I didn't hit you that hard! I can't have done, I've got no bruises...

I can't remember, everything is a bit fuzzy around that time, I think it was from when Am hit me.

[GeoffC]

Originally Posted by ShortNCuddlyAm

I didn't hit you that hard! I can't have done, I've got no bruises...

that could be because you used the cricket bat ....

[poohbear_nc]

Originally Posted by GeoffC

that could be because you used the cricket bat ....

Wouldn't the bat have to be quite tiny for a cricket to use it?

[dsvick]

Originally Posted by poohbear_nc

Wouldn't the bat have to be quite tiny for a cricket to use it?

Or to be used on them?

[GeoffC]

Originally Posted by poohbear_nc

Wouldn't the bat have to be quite tiny for a cricket to use it?

Originally Posted by dsvick

Or to be used on them?

oh yes wise grasshoppers ....

[FlorenceArt]

Well, if the bat is large enough you could get several crickets at a time.

[GeoffC]

Originally Posted by FlorenceArt

Well, if the bat is large enough you could get several crickets at a time.

do bats eat crickets ?



(whoops wrong thread ... )