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The Story That Ends & Begins Again (no word limit)
Alejandro and Elliot went to the local hop, where Danny and the Juniors were gigging**, and spent the whole nite hopping happily, but with each other. Only one handsome prince turned up and he already had a prince-consort in tow."I thought you said they tend to hang together," Elliot said sadly.
"The operative word, my dear green friend is 'tend.' Like the man next door is 'tending' his garden, which is why you're with me."
And then the group struck up again:
Bah-bah-bah-bah, bah-bah-bah-bah
Bah-bah-bah-bah, bah-bah-bah-bah, at the hop!
** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6EeO...
Bah Bah Black sheep have you and wool?Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
One for my master, one for my dame,
One for the little boy who lives down the lane.
We are here in Merino County to find out how the little boy who lives down the lane really feels about a sheep holding a bag full of wool for him.
Excuse me sir? Sir? Aren't you the little boy who lives down the lane?
Why yes I am.
How do you feel about a sheep holding a bag of wool for you?
A sheep? A sheep? That's the most famous sheep in all nursery rhymes and she happens to be my girlfriend.
Your girlfriend. Really, girlfriend?
Yep. Look I'm farmer boy and as a farmer boy I fulfill my role as one who takes advantage of his opportunity with sheep or who would believe the imbecilic idea that a good looking guy like me would make it with a sheep? Nobody right? So in order to preserve the order of things in the universe I'm the one that does it. No one else would do it so I got stuck with the job. Now if you excuse me I have a hot date.
With your sheep girlfriend?
No I just took this date and put it in the microwave to soften it up a bit but I got distracted talking to you and I left it too long. So it is very, very hot. It's burning me in fact so I gotta go.
And there you have it folks. The little boy that lives down the lane. And now back to the frogs and it looks like they have a visitor.
Candide how nice of you to join us. I tell you man it was like that scene in Avatar when the evil humans destroy the holy lands of the indigenous Na'vis from the planet Pandora.
Yes I found many people who have burdens which are hard to bear during my journeys.
Candide you're a smart guy. Tell me what I should do about the former garden next door?
Well frogs all I can say is we must tend to our garden. Take care fellows I got to go. I've got a hot date.
Oh can we have a taste? Dates are the perfect frog food.
Taste? I'm talking about this comely young lad I met on my travels. A princely fellow and very handsome. So long frogs.
Candide exits stage right.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.
With Candide exited stage right (and alarum off when he tipped his Fascinator at a guardsman on duty in his sentry box) the frogs went back to sit on lily leaves on the pond to ponder. Elliot and Alejandro pondered long. A row of pretty maids could be envisioned, but what were they to make of cockle shells, and where were the silver bells? And then there was the question of the Black Sheep, eating all the vegetation in the former garden at 57A.
"Sheep," said Alejandro in a pondering sort of voice.
"Peep," Elliot suddenly said, and snapped his long green grasping fingers.
"Peep?"
"Yes, yes. Peep…
Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,
And doesn't know where to find them;
Leave them alone, And they'll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them."
Alejandro looked downright puzzled. "But all the sheep I know don't have any tails."
"Ah," Ellitot replied with a knowing look.
"Then up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them;
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they'd left their tails behind them.
It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray
Into a meadow hard by,
There she espied their tails side by side,
All hung on a tree to dry.
She heaved a sigh and wiped her eye,
And over the hillocks went rambling,
And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should,
To tack each again to its lambkin."
"Now they're lambs," Alejandro complained.
"Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb."
"Pass me one of those toasted dates, please."
Twins by Robert GravesSiamese twins: one maddened by
The other's moral bigotry,
Resolved at length to misbehave
And drink them both into the grave.
"Sure" Alejandro replied as he tossed a date with perfect aim.
[Candid exits stage left. Voltaire exits stage right.]
"So hanged I'll be you say. And for a sheep?"
"I'm afraid so Eliot. T.S." said a truly sad Alejandro.
"What's the T.S. for?"
Alejandro look impassively at Eliot and replied, "Tough Shit."
"I should say. T.S. indeed" said Eliot.
Their two hammocks had been swinging in perfect harmony, never touching as they rocked back and forth, forth and back.
"Another date please Alejandro?"
"Silly boy Elliot, we haven't finished this date yet."
"List to this." said T.S. Eliot "It's a love song I've written"
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
"No Eliot you shall hang not drown." was all that Alejandro could say.
"Sshhh!" Elliot hissed."What is it?" Alejandro wanted to know, alarm written all over his little green face.
"It's the French! I can hear them singing the Marseillaise… Listen!"
[Strumpets and voices off]
Arise children of the fatherland
The day of glory has arrived
Against us tyranny's
Bloody standard is raised
Listen to the sound in the fields
The howling of these fearsome soldiers
They are coming into our midst
To cut the throats of your sons and consorts
To arms citizens Form your battalions
March, march
Let impure blood
Water our furrows
"Whose throats are they cutting?" Alejandro was right frighted.
"Ours you, idiot. They're French, we're frogs. What do the French enjoy eating the most?"
"Snails?"
"After snails."
"Penis-shaped asparagus?"
"After penis-shaped asparagus."
"Oh…" Alejandro's little green face paled to a sick yellow. "You mean?"
"Yes. I mean… FROGS' LEGS!!"
Time to hoppit.
But it was too late. The French managed to grab one leg off Alejandro and one off Eliot. It took them three hours to be seen at the Luglow Emergency Room. It was five weeks before they got their crutches and the prosthetic legs will be ready before the end of the decade if they put a rush on it but there's no guarantee of that. Alejando and Eliot spent 3 months in a rehabilitation facility learning to walk upright because the government didn't have and crutches that fit frog's leg motion.
Finally there were able to leaving using their upright crutches. Both went back to tend to their own lily pad waiting for the possibility of a rush being put on the prosthetic legs.
It happened that a traveling salesman named Smiling Jack Fast parked his 1988 Toyota Corolla Hatchback right by Alejandro and Eliot's swamp. Noticing their problem he sold them 100 percent government health care equivalent prosthetic frog legs and threw in some magic beans for free, gratis, no charge.
Al and El each proudly wore his new prosthesis as they walked Smiling Jack Fast back to his car. They heartily waved goodbye to Jack as the 1988 Toyota Corolla Hatchback took off from
Just as promised the magic beans grew into a plant so big it reached to the sky. Unfortunately there was no way a frog with one prosthetic leg and one arm could get up the big bean stalk. So Al and El went back to their lily pads and basked in the fog and occasionally thwwwwping their tongues to catch a nice ripe insect.
"Do you know," Elliot asked Alejandro. "We sound like the flag-carrier airline of Israel. El AL.""So we do. Do Israelis like eating frog's legs, because I think I'd really miss the one I've got left."
"I'm sure they don't. But if we think hard enough and wave one of the magic prosthetic legs correctly, I bet we could become El Al and fly outta here to a better pond. Besides, I read somewhere that Israeli scientists have developed a method for getting frogs to regrow their lost legs. And that would really be one in the kisser for those French cannibals."
So they each waved their prosthetic legs in the air, said Abramacabra loudly, and… whoosh
There they were in the best French Restaurant in all of Jerusalem.
"Uh Oh," said Elliot, always the most percipient of the pair. "I have a bad feeling about this.""Oh dear," Alejandro looked around. "And we don't even have a Millennium Falcon to escape in."
"A falcon is more likely to gobble us up than let us escape," Elliot pointed out forlornly. He looked a wee bit green about the gills.
At that moment the best and handsomest waiter in the best French Restaurant in all of Jerusalem came to their table and bowed. "Bonjour et Shalom," he said."Que voulez-vous manger, mes jolies petites grenouilles. Les escargots à l'ail sont particulièrement bien à cette époque de l'année. Ou si les escargots ne sont pas à votre goût, que diriez-vous d'une paire de cuisses de grenouilles dodues?"
Alejandro and Elliot screamed at the same instant.
The waiter, thinking they were Hebrew-speaking froggies, repeated the question: "או אם חלזונות הם לא הטעם שלך, מה דעתך על זוג הרגליים של הצפרדע שמנמונת?"
"No, maybe Hausa then, Ko kuma idan da katantanwa ba ka iyawa, ta yaya game da biyu na rana gudu plump? No? Oh dear. I know, Yoruba. Tabi ti o ba ti ni igbin ko ba rẹ rẹ, bi o nipa bata ti Ọpọlọ ti ese plump?"
But by this time the poor Franco-Jewish waiter was talking to himself.
Where had the poor one-legged frogs gone to?
Too bad they did not stay for the special today. We're giving out free leftover froggy parts to anyone who orders snails tails au gratin. El and Al hopped back on the plane, headed for a distant rain that comforts the soul and eases the pain to fair England's shores we return again.
Settled happily back on their lily pad in the good old pond (everything had grown back again since the wicked owner of the garden had it all tidied up), Elliot and Alejandro wandered what to do next."What do you want to do?" Elliot asked.
Al hummed a bit. "Dunno. What do you want to do?"
El shrugged. "Dunno. I can't think of anything that cuts the mustard."
Al brightened. "I can. Colman's. That'll cut the mustard. It's the original grain mustard, you know, and goes a snip with a genuine Melton Mowbray pork pie."
And with that, the two froggy friends set off, hop along cassidy and all, off they went to Norwich**, singing that snappy old refrain:
"Knickers Off Ready When I Come Home…"
** http://www.mustardshopnorwich.co.uk
They saw a sign for the Mustard Museum at Colemans it saidMustard for over 2,000 yearsEl and Al quickened their pace in the excitement of seeing art deco crocks and silver mustard pots.
a favorite of Pharaoh and
the Three Musketeers
And there they were, d'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis."But that makes four musketeers," Al objected.
"All for one, and one for all," the four rapier-wielding idiots declaimed, as they showered each other in sunflower-golden yellow Colman's English mustard. "Not for us Mousquetaires zat feelthy Dijon mustard."
"M'sieu d'Artagnan isn't actually one of the musketeers," Elliot whispered in Alejandro's green shell-like ear.
"Tous pour un, un pour tous" cried Porthos, all excited at the thought of a tasty frog's leg with mustard for his breakfast.
It might all have been up for poor El and Al, but at that very moment, Tutankhamun wobbled out from a cave and grabbed the Musketeer, shouting dustily, "He's not a Mouseketeer, he's just a very naughty boy. And I am his Mummy."
Then Willie Wanker and the Chocolate Factory Oompa Loompas came waddling along in those silly waddle pants they wear and poured a layer of fluffy whipped chocolate on Athos, Porthos, and Aramis followed by a layer of milk chocolate. 
"45 percent less fat than what?" Porrthos asked gagging on whipped chocolate.
"Than before we removed all the padding you were carrying around over your gluteus maximuses." said the Mars Corp. spokesperson.
Athos sighed, "You had to ask."
Aramis had visions of being reincarnated as the Three Stooges.
"Better that than Laurel & Hardy," Porthos opined."Bozo," Aramis retorted.
"Now, now, lads," d'Artagnan admonished, who was determined to use more dialog tags than the others.
"You're not really even one of us," Athos complained, "So what do you know. You ever been smothered in fluffy whipped chocolate before?"
"I know!" Aramis cried out. "Why can't we be the Marks & Spencer Brothers. There were four of them if you count the one who wasn't ever a bit funny."
According to a company spokesman Mr. Three Musketeers, "We at Marks and Sparks are proud to bring a liquerfied version of brussle sprouts this festive season and combine it with vodka to and a whisper of vermouth to create a non-sweet yet festive smoothie to combat the Christmas jitters and frazzled nerves.Our brand new management team at Marks and Sparks is set to bring you incredible new edibles this holidays season with its new creations landing in stores next week. Our slogan this Christmas is
The sprout juiced smoothie will join a sprout based bread, an edible cheeseboard made from crackers and Christmas Cake liqueur all created as part of Marks and Sparks new Christmas creations.
Marks & Sparks creations set to hit the food aisles next week will be the Christmas Dinner in a Pie, complete with pastry shells stuffed with mashed peas along with a side order of pigs in blankets with green and red candy sprinkles. M&S trusts the Christmas Cake liqueur will complete the creations created for Christmas creations.
Other new Christmas dinner products this year will be inventively named supersized version called Christmas Dinner on a Stick. To start a red striped candy confection of peppermint schnapps with sweet stuff in an candy cane shape along with turkey flavored soft baked
Mr. Musketeers recommends a red wine aperitif. With dinner a red wine is also recommended and as a dessert wine, Mr. Musketeer again suggests red. Is it just me or was that three of them?
"May I help you" said the helpful sales associate? "Yes" said Charles de Batz-Castelmore d'Artagnan. "Could you please point to the poufy dress and swords departments?"
"Ooooh, yes, sir, tights will suit you… down to the ground," crowed the poufy dress and swords department associate salesperson to the incredibly and rampantly handsome Charles de Batz-Castelmore d'Artagnan. "And we've just had in the most darling cod-pieces I've ever seen which will be a perfect fit.""Don't handle the goods," d'Artagnan snapped. "Besides, I don't see a single one with enough cubic capacity."
The poufy dress and swords department associate salesperson circled d'Artagnan admiringly. "I see sir has taken full advantage of our Christmas Dinner on a Stick with its proprietary dietary properties. Soooo slim and dandy."
"Don't handle the goods," d'Artagnan snapped. "Do you happen to have a bendy sword?"
"All our swords are straight, sir. We don't approve of bent swords here at Marks & Sparks. You never know where they may have been."
Charles de Batz-Castelmore d'Artagnan gave the poufy dress and swords department associate salesperson a suspicious glance. "Is that a primed matchlock pistol I see in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"
Reaching in the salespouf's pocket he grabbed pistol and shot purposefully only grazing the salespouf's leg yet the victim cried out as if he had a gaping wound in the chest, d'Artagnan had to hurry if he was to save Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.Dashingly dashing off to the Creations Created for Christmas Creations Department d'Artagnan flew up the escalator stopping only to smell one perfect rose he was wearing d'Artangnon arrived at the Creations Created for Christmas Creations Department.
Grabbing Mr. Three Musketeers he bent the CCCC (you didn't think I was going to type that again did you?) salesman over and passionately kissed him giving tongue and slopping saliva all over the salesman. The more he kissed and licked the delicious milk chocolate outter layer the more he freed up the scrumptious fluffy, whipped chocolate inner layer until he was so lost in the throes of M/M romance type love that he had to bite his lover. In so doing he ate his way to freeing Athos, Porthos, and Aramis who had been trapped inside.
Standing valiantly together the three raised their swords and said in unison, "Swords is a very funny word, swords, sawa ords swa swa ords you see how odd that is?"
d'Artangnon licked the rest of the fluffy, whipped layer off them and grabbed Athos who grabbed Porthos who grabbed Cyrano de Bergerac gave him a wet, sloppy kiss on the nose and yelled come on Aramis stop smelling that Aramis perfume salesman and follow us!
Slashing and hacking their way through the vicious army of shoppers attacking them as the bargain hunters tried to get to the sale on the Creations Created for Christmas Creations the intrepid and beautiful four musketeers made their way out of Marks and Sparks.
Tragically Cyrano was killed in the crush of shoppers but next season's CCCC Department creations were all nose shaped in a poignant and tearjerking dedication to Cyrano who shall live on forever in the hearts and stomachs of the customers of Marks and Sparks Creations Created for Christmas Creations.
The perfunctory but perfectly perfumed Aramis purveyor of perfume shot up the down escalator in an attempt to outwit the Three Musketeers and their wet sloppy kisses designed to reach his soft center. But what he hadn't expected—indeed, who had—was finding himself slap bang in the middle of Creations Created for Christmas Creations Department. It wasn't so much Christmas, it was the damned Elves he couldn't stand.
No he could not stand the elves. Aramis Man tried and he tried but they kept falling over. Stand one elf up. Got get the next. First elf falls over. They were all drunk from drinking Aramis. Elves have strange tastes when it comes to alcohol.Aramis man did indeed have a soft center and he was sweet too. In fact he was used as the MC in many M/M novels. Many men tried to lick his soft center but it was locked away in his heart and d'Artagnon held the key.
Aaaahh… the key to the Heart of Aramis (Hearts On Fire #26) is to be found on page 34, if you are reading the print version or approximately 14% on Kindle (other eBook format readers are available). It is there, on line 18 of page 34 the discerning reader will discover the soft center to which d'Artagnan holds the key, a tiny silver spoon on a chain given him by Madame Pomp-a-Door. Now with this little spoon-key d'Artagnan regularly scoops a teeny weeny bit of the soft center and savors its delicate flavors.It is this secret ingredient that makes Aramis such a wonderful elixir to the elves who imbibe it. Meanwhile, by removing some of the soft center, d'Artagnan actually causes it to increase in size with each tiny removal. And so Aramis keeps on churning out M/M Romance HEA stories to the delight of millions of ladies who enjoy them.
And the men adore his stories too especially Aramis Man with the Soft Center #5 in the series which sets mens hearts a flutter so much they brought it up to number one in Amazon gay fiction for twelve weeks in a row in Amazon.co.uk. For it is in the UK that a soft center is appreciated. Many men try but few are chosen to get an ARC of the next book in the Aramis Man with the Soft Center Series. Oh d'Artagnan you write even better than Rod Bellamy.
Rod Bellamy pricked up his ears at the mention of his name being taken in vain, for fane, he might be vain, but not so much as to keep turning like a weather vane. Rodders (as he was known to his friend) was quite aware of the quality of d'Artagnan's M/M Romance writing, of his sob-inducing HEA endings, of his rightly famous Chicks on Sticks heroes adopting a hundred lost boys with his enduring partner, who he called Hubble because he loved his telescope and the stars in the firmament above. "It's just like looking at MGM," Hubble would say with a shiver of awe in his voice. "See that constellation over there. That's E.T.""What, that cutesy Spielberg whimsey about a cuddly alien?"
"No, no, you foolish d'Artagnan. Elizabeth Taylor. Ahhh, so young, so talented."
Hubble was given to adoring gay camp icons of the silver screen.
"Mmmmm, d'Arty, what's that gorgeous smell you're wearing?"
"Oh, that'll be the Heart of Aramis perfume for men who boldly go."
"Go where?"
That stumped d'Artagnan, so he reached for a nice soft center.
and grabbed the Aramis Man's perfumed heart. Which was too bad for the Aramis Man because he was using it to pump oxygenated blood. d'Artagnan finally found the love of his life only to rip out his heart. It was a heartrending scene of tragedy as d'Artagnan listened to his true love's dying last words, "Aramis, the odor of love only £89.95 at fine stores everywhere."And now I ask you is this a perfect love story to win Lamda Book Awards Novel of the Year? There wasn't any sex in the story and while BDSM is genre that gets some small amount of notice the sub-sub-genre of Medical BDSM sub-sub-sub genre heart removal is pretty high on the list of tropes especially a lover stealing his mates heart and not giving it back so that it could go lump, thump, lump, thump, lump, thump when laying a head on a chest in a bedroom scene, postcoital subtype 8 in the M/M handbook of clichés.
D'Artagnman was getting a little board so he painted a sign "Porthos, Athos, and Aramis need you for M/M/M Romance novel". D'Artagnan was getting a little bored so he read a M/M/M Romance novel which essentially was one big, strong guy and two chicks with dicks who fulfilled the MC's sexual fantasies. It was a written originally as heterosexual sex story and the author just changed the pronouns. It was highly rated and selling so fast Amazon couldn't crank them out fast enough. It's good to know gay fiction is alive and well.
"Eye of toad, heart of newt, willy of salamander, liver of a black cock, spleen of were-bat, sweetbreads of shape-shifting golden ass, fingernail scrapings of a minotaur, seed of a virgin lad, mix well over a medium heat until nicely simmering. Add two bay leaves, a crushed clove of garlic, some peppercorns, and a teaspoon of coarse sea salt (better still, use Navajo rock salt) and a tied bundle of parsley stalks, a dash of oregano, and cook until all the ingredients are tender."Oliver! Supper's ready!"
"Can't you see. I'm reading this fantastic M/M/M Romance story. I haven't got time for one of your concoctions now."
"Ah. Okay. Well… I can always freeze it."
Oh the cupboards are full I see you have all the ingredients necessary for preparing any English food except for mashed peas.
D'Artagnan grew weary of the boring musketeers and took an exciting job as a fencing master in a posh public school outskirts of London. The out skirts kept all the girls out plus a few Scots that insisted on kilts.
Besides the boys could out dress them all in jackets with insignia patches and short pants ands of course white shirt and school ties. Each boy was tied to the next so they wouldn't be any different from the rest. It also stopped most of the wanking according to the laundress and the janitor.
Except they were not so fancifully dressed when they were fencing when they put on a white unitard and a black mask so nobody knew who did anybody in. D'Artagnan was a terrible with an épée so children when home in a coffin with some regularity which of course increased admissions because the high tone society type didn't want children anyway.
That is, they didn't want their offspring underfoot, which is why—until being dispatched to the pos public school on the outskirts of London—nannies looked after the. So it never really came as a surprise that some never came home, having been speared on the end of d'Artagnan's fearsome épée (with just far too many of those speary things above the "e"s). Most parents contented themselves with a sigh of resignation because it meant having to go back to work on another heir. Or maybe a pair of heirs.
That's only for the upper crust. The upper upper crust have heir insurance so that if a child disappears for any reason or simply proves inconvenient, a replacement is instantly put in the former heirs place.This industry came from Mr. Montague Binghampton who after reading Roger Kean's book A Life Apart got the idea if the Colonel and his wife could just adopt to have a heir and a spare what about people who had no one to adopt as a spare. So the Binghampton Spare Heirs Assurance Company was formed with boys at the ready and barristers too in an instant adoptions could be put through at the moment a spare heir was needed.
Without a spare hair on his head, Mr. Montague Binghampton of the Binghampton Spare Heirs Assurance Company owned an host of minions who scoured the country in search of spare heirs for the upper crust nabobs whose original heirs they had carelessly lost—and not always to the fearsome épée (with just far too many of those speary things above the "e"s) of infamous d'Artagnan, fencing instructor at a well know North London posh public school. There were also those of somewhat naughtier disposition who, once Matron untied them from their fellow pupils, would wonder off to Old Pond Square where gentlemen of dubious morals accosted them with inducements of money in return for certain favors. But, alas! some of these poor children were never seen again, but at least you could say they went with a smile on their little faces, not like those who fell to the agony of a misplaced thrust from d'Artagnan's spritely sword.I feel we should entirely discount the scurrilous newspaper slurs which have linked d'Artagnan and Mr. Montague Binghampton in a scam to remove previous heirs by nefarious practices in order to sell more spare heirs to the upper crust.
Certainly true. There's not enough supply at the well known posh North London school for children of the filthy rich and a few on scholarship that were just filthy. No they'd need a very large factory to produce wrongful heirs. And a larger supply of rightful heirs.A factory? You mean they are playing Dr. Frankenstein Junior producing tween and teen little monsters? Why that Montague Binghampton is a genius. And that's why people say rich kids are such terrors these days. Of course that explains their rude behavior and hooliganism and street gangs that wear short pants, blazers with insignia and properly tied ties.
It was in fact Mr. Monatgue Binghampton who made forehead piercing all the rage. There's not a single boy at the well known posh North London school for children of the filthy rich and a few on scholarship that were just filthy that doesn't boast a bolt sticking out from the side of his head. I'm told they are very useful for hanging onto when enjoining in intercourse with a boy. They are well trained in the art of conversation you see, but to catch one's attention, the bolt is useful.Rich kids may be filthy and little terrors, but you must admit that they make perfect spare heirs, and if they survive long enough to receive a life peerage, they turn the House of Lords into a fantastic playground.
Oh dear. Here come the townspeople with pitchforks other deadly farm instruments that people who live in towns have in their apartments at the ready in case some being make them angry. You don't want to be around when the townsfolk are angry. The get crazy like and get all riled up and cause a ruckus like you've never seen.They are attacking the well known posh North London school for children of the filthy rich and a few on scholarship that were just filthy to get the little monsters who are an effrontery to God and quite possibly even the Queen.
Although it has to be noted that not a few of the filthy rich are actually queens in their own right, so not likely to be an afront as much as aback.Isn't it strange how whenever the common townspeople with their pitchforks and other deadly farm instruments come rampaging over the brow of the hill, they're always in black and white. And a bit jerky.
Never mind, color prejudice is not something you can ever accuse a single boy at the well known posh North London school for children of the filthy rich of harboring. And when the common townspeople with their pitchforks and other deadly farm instruments come rampaging over the brow of the hill, at least the little boys can bang the sides of their foreheads, rip out their bolts, and like avenging Zeuses, hurl them at their foes.
But what is this!? (shparp pwap! whirigig pwap – Victor Borges)
Good Heavens, the rampaging common townspeople with their pitchforks and other deadly farm instruments are being led by none other than Ganymede, and one of those dastardly little filthy rich boys playing Zeus has swooped down and caught Ganymede up in his claws.
What on earth or in heaven will happen now???
Little Miss Moppet was popping to town one hot summer's day, hopping gaily along listening to the pretty birdsong and humming a little Led Zeppelin tune. Hummy-di-dummydy-do… she hummed happily.Everything in this bucolic little picture seems so cozy, right down to the busy ants pausing in their eternal work to gaze lovingly up as Little Miss Moppet hops right over them; to the chirruping starlings swooping in the etherially blue sky.
So what's wrong…?
By failing to step on ant hills and thus make ant kills, Little Miss Moppet caused such a deficit in the ant population that the few ants gorged themselves on all the food meant for all the ants so they grew very, very big until had no more food. This was the beginning of the Great Big Hungry Ant Hordes invading everywhere throughout Luglow. They took over Tesco and even ate the unsliced bread. Next the moved on to...
…Luglow railway station, so when all the kids headed for the posh schools and sixth-form colleges in Hennford came running down the stairs to catch the 7:15 to Cardiff and Rymney, there was this great black writhing army of giant ants waiting to gobble them up as a between-meal snack."This is all because of that stupid kid Little Miss Moppet," the terrified children shrieked. A lot of the boys were prepubescent, so their shrill screams, so loud and piercing, went right through the ants' heads and wiped most of them out. The others fled back through Tesco, pincering a few of the staff on the way, down to cross the river and off into Welsh Wales, where they set up a colony and raided the holiday coast.
The poor children suffered from advanced cases of PAAADS (Post Ant Attack Antacid Distress Syndrome) which drove most of them mad, so…
…their doctor ("physician, heal thyself") injected them with non-lethal does of formic acid, some alkaloids and some piperidines and from the survivors determined that the ants Miss Moppet had so thoughtlessly stepped over so as not to crush them were a particularly vicious sub-species of fire ants. Their only saving grace was their love of pausing in their eternal work to gaze lovingly up as Little Miss Moppet hopped right over them humming that chirruping little Led Zeppelin tune, Hummy-di-dummydy-do, while staring up at the ethereally (spelled it wrong last time…) blue sky.So diagnosed, the poor children dashed to their local Tesco One-Stop convenience store to by tubes of Anti-PAAADS cream, which restored them completely to their former happy bounciness. In this delirious state of mutual warmth and lovingness, they were only too happy to dance along to the tune a a Pied Piper, who just happened along and led the children on a merry dance to…
Hereford which should be pronounced here ford but instead is pronounced hera ferd. The Pied Piper proclaimed that he would keep all the children hostage until everyone agree to pronounce Hereford as here ford the way it's spelled.The residents of Worcester were very upset that if any town was going to be singled out for mispronunciation it should be Worcester because even the MP for Worcester couldn't pronounce it.
This created a stalemate with much shouting on both sides and neither side willing to give in. The Pied Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers then used his pipe to lead the children back to Luglow as a reward for pronouncing its name properly.
Then he need a drink so a bank holiday was declared so all the men could go to the pub with the Pied Piper who after quite a goodly number of pints was called the Peed Pooper which embarrassed him so he faded away in shame never to be seen or heard again until Wednesday.
On Wednesday the Peed Pooper as he was now called asked if there were and good route for tourists since he had never been in these parts. The Luglow Tourism Bureau provided him with visitor information which they assured him was the very latest brouchure for a fine tourist tour.
The Peed Pooper thanked them and left. Then he took a look at the brochure thinking he would use it to plan his way. It read:
Should the tourist wish, he can the high road from Leominster to jedt Orleton, 5 ol. from Ludlow. This was the birthplace of Adam de Orleton, Bishop of Hereford 1317-27, one of the most active agents of the baions in their EardI. whose chasms are filled by large Ludlow isoin a with curious stall wood-work insie. proceed to the Hopton Heath Stat, ofl Wales Rly., passing through Leintwardinc, and 2 m. to the N. of Wi";more Oastle, and the remains of Wigmore Abbey and wars againstdw I When ap-plication was made to him by the governors of Berkeley in reference to the murder of the king, he is said to have retumed this oracular reply: " the Centra Grange, the latter having been the EvHidem ooddere noUte timere bonum.
And so off he went.
This, as all the good burgers of Luglow said, was a travestie of justice to so describe a venerable Norman new town in this waye. There was a general riot because the mayor had forbidden the good burgers of Luglow a Macdonald's (though he had consented to Baron Rottenchild de Tesco a license to build a super buttery at the foot of ye olde Corve Streete on the site of the former McCartneys' cattle market and beef auctions. The goode mayor had also twinned Luglow with ye olde Albanie in the country discovered by Amerigo Vespucci. †But due to Lord Mortimer's timely intervention (he builded a castle and laide downe the lawe), the good burgers of Ludlow got their Macdonald's and grew fat on the juicy 100% beef burgers/
† Interesting to note that if old Chris hadn't bumped into a bit of land in the Caribbean and thought he'd reached the Indies, there would have been no Red Indians in Columbia, that large landmass situated between Mexico in the south and Canada in the north.
So all the Columbians got together and sang (in English not their native Spanish)O Columbia! the gem of the ocean,
The home of the brave and the free,
The shrine of each patriot's devotion,
A world offers homage to thee;
Thy mandates make heroes assemble,
When Liberty's form stands in view;
Thy banners make tyranny tremble,
When borne by the red, white, and blue.
Historians have tried for centuries to figure out what was meant by the red, white, and blue to no avail. If their was a vail it tipped it's hat and left.
The Indians played the Reds in an exhibition game in Yankee Stadium and decided to forget the game and scalp Yankee tickets instead. When all the overpriced tickets had been sold they went back to their casinos and raked in the money. There was so much of it they had to use a garden rake.
I had an uncle who was a rake,
He used to pitch woo in the garden.
But it was no use pitching without a catcher.
But look yonder! Is that not a Catcher in the Rye? Do you think your uncle could pitch that far?
Comin thro' the rye, poor body,Comin thro' the rye,
He will catch his death I fear,
Comin thro' the rye!
Gan a body meet a body
Comin thro' the rye,
Gan a body kiss a body,
Need a laddie cry?
When a body meet a body
Comin thro' the glen
Can a body kiss a body,
When the twa are men?
Uncle goes to the poor boy and tells the him there's no dead man catching boys in the rye field but the boy will only cry. He knows because he's been there and he's seen death there coming through the rye. You'll go to Hell you know he was told so death is in the rye. That is where he had lain one day when the sun was fine. Among the grain with his best bud the laid in the soft rye. The more he prays the more he hears him saying he must die. If only he could see his buddy alive and coming nigh.
Ilka lassie has her laddie,
Nane, they say, ha’e I
The lads do thrash on me,
When comin' thro' the rye.
The boys sing she's wet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry:
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!
Comin thro' the rye, poor body,
Comin thro' the rye,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!
O Jenny's she's a cold poor body
Comin thro' the rye,
No one cares about a sassy
even if she die.
So come now lads
and ye be jolly
Comin thro' the rye,
We'll take another body laddies,
and wait til she don't cry.
Can a body meet a body
Comin thro' the glen
Can a body kiss a body,
When the twain are men?
Never laddies he's a sassy,
and we will watch him die
The we go and take a lassy
and bring her to the rye.
Wait. Look there's Holden Caulfield. Now he's a cheery fellow who can put a smile on your face.
The secretive British spy agency GCHQ has developed covert tools to seed the internet with false information. The above posting has been identified as the work of the GCHQ.
The Greedy Corporate Hospitality Quango's spokesperson would neither confirm nor deny that his quasi-autonomous non -governmental organization was responsible for the development of covert tools for the dissemination of misinformation. He was, however, able to tell reporters that in his opinion, the blame for such abominable tools must be placed firmly at the doors of MI6… or maybe it was MI5. He was pretty certain that if it were one of the other organizations, they'd certainly be in cahoots with the CIA.At that point, as the press clamoured for more detail, to the surprise of everyone present the spokesperson broke into song:
A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died
So bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey in Rye
Singin’, "This’ll be the day that I die
"This’ll be the day that I die."
The secretive British spy agency GCHQ has developed covert tools to seed the internet with false information. The above posting has been identified as the work of the GCHQ.
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Books mentioned in this topic
Lassie Come-Home (other topics)A Life Apart (other topics)
Wrath of Seth (other topics)
Wife to Mr. Milton (other topics)
The White Goddess: A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Zack (other topics)Roger Kean (other topics)
Oliver Frey (other topics)
James George Frazer (other topics)
Italo Calvino (other topics)
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runhop like the dickens to the next yard because heavy equipment with blades and chains were not on the list of approved frog habitat apparatus.The little frog whose name was Elliot just made into the neighboring yard when he opened his eyes and saw two frog eyes looking back at him.
Both frogs jumped backwards in surprise.
"Uh, um, er… hello?"
The frog who lived on the neighboring land replied, "Hello."
"Bit of an apocalypse next door where I lived" said Elliot.
"So I hear" replied neighbor frog whose name was Alejandro.
"Mind if I stay here until the hubbub dies down?" asked Elliot.
"No I don't mind I was just going off in search of a prince to kiss me and turn me into his handsome prince consort ."
"Really? I always wanted to do that. May I go with you?"
Alejandro was the generous sort. ""Of course. I'm sure if there is one handsome prince there has got to be another. They tend to hang together. We can both become royal prince consorts."