The Story That Ends & Begins Again (no word limit)

[Boyd, Hunk of hunky burning passion]

Unbeknownst to Jacob and Wilhelm at that very moment their editor called and left a voice mail saying Pullman hired to do next book of Fairy Tales. Penguin Books fed up that you guys never have in fairies in your tales.

[Roger]

Can you imagine the stamping of tiny, gnarled feet this brought about? The shock, the horror, the sheer unabated anger. Both brothers stamped their feet so hard they broke the the Earth's crust and fell headlong into that rift the Pied Piper opened up earlier, and which O.G.R.E. papered over. Their black-hearted curses at Pullman faded into the abyss. So, they certainly didn't live happily ever after. What a grim tale.

[Preston, Moderator]

[Preston, Moderator]

The moral of the preceding story is that Philip Pullman is a magnificent writer and his three books in the His Dark Materials series are highly recommended to readers of all ages.

[Preston, Moderator]

[Preston, Moderator]

There was a

[Rich]

man alone.
With his fear and doubts.
Only his recollection of debts as yet unpaid and revenge not taken motivated him forward.
That and the death,horrible beyond belief of his precious Jewel.

[Jennifer]

Jewel, a bright star shining in the firmament, unduly snuffed out. On that fateful day, all the joy ran out of the world. Birdsong was no longer sweet, now it was a raucous screech thrumming thru his brain. Flowers no longer gave off their scented perfume, instead filling the very ether with decay and pestilence. Jewel. Why my Jewel, he cried.
He would have justice.

[Rich]

And justice in this place was quick and deadly.
No jury or court to face only a sharp edge against your throat or a sudden thrust in your back.
No appeals were heard or offered. You knew if the deed was done yet not completed your own life was at risk.

[Jennifer]

Was it worth it, he wondered? That was like asking if breathing was worth it. Jewel was worth it. He would take the risk, his own life be damned. It was anyways. He was damned.

[Rich]

So he headed South.
On foot towards the Renquist Authority.
Where any deed was for sale and those who dealt in thievery and death could be found, would be found and one by one Core Radome would have his bloodshed.

[Rich]

The landscape was as dark as his mood.
Here at the end of a fading summer every tree and bush and vine and leaf were oh so green. Not bright green no much more dismal, dark, almost black.
The path was lost.
He moved by instinct.
To pause was to die.
Evil itself pursued him.

[Jennifer]

Real Evil. The capital E kind of Evil. Not hocus pocus evil or boo it's a ghost evil or hellhound evil. Real Evil. The kind that only your fellow man can do.
And the further south he moved, the more he felt it breathing on his neck. Some people sweat Evil out of their pores and shed it like old skin. He had known those kind of people.
He was that kind of people. Until his Jewel. It all changed with Jewel. His thoughts kept circling back to a happier time. It was dangerous to remember.

[Rich]

The impulse to turn to seek a warning of some pursuing
Threat wore greatly upon him.
There was danger in that as the trees grew heavier and roots seemed to grab at his ankles , vines entangle ,thorns rip and tear at clothes and exposed flesh.
Glad he was for the campaign boots and camo pants he wore. His heavy blue tunic with shoulder patch denoting his old rank all covered by his Wayfarer cape.

[Jennifer]

How easily he slid back into his old life, his old ways.He remembered what that old campaigner, Raines, had always said.
" We are going to wash everything clean and begin anew."
And that was exactly what he would do. He would wash it all clean in rivers of blood. Let someone else worry about starting anew. There was no fresh beginnings left for him.

[Rich]

To accomplish anything he had to remain alive.
Move ahead and make haste.
Hard travel was positive yet he needed to eat.
He grabbed berries of known quality as he ran. Look to the left at manga trees and snatch at the fruit.
Stop quick a burrowers nest therein two young and two eggs. Eat.
Moving downhill he crosses small streams and stops long enough for water.
Would it be, could it possible be advantageous to slow and move with caution and use his nature craft to reduce his trail?
Could he slow pursuit.
No those who followed had his scent and more the taste of his blood.

[Jennifer]

then let it start here, he thought. He would choose his killing ground. And they would get the same chances, the same mercy that they had showed Jewel.

[Rich]

Stopping midstream he pauses and drinks then reaches for branches to pull himself up onto the bank.
And froze.
He smelled and felt the presence of Dalmari. The huge armored herd animal. platted outer skin made them nearly unkillable and protecting their young made the sharp horned beasts deadly.
They, being keen of smell had scented him, he by stopping movement defied poor eyesight.
Could he escape this situation himself and perhaps lead his enemies into the deadly Dalmari herd.

[Jennifer]

He paused, thinking Dalamari. It sounded so like calamari, so delicious. And then he realized ewel was gone and he no longer had to share calamari with her. That cat had always been greedy. It was time to go home

The end.

[Rich]

While on safari on the continent I became an intimate of the cannibal tribe Dalmari.
One day a circus was passing through the jungle so we grabbed a couple of performers.
Soon one was prepared and ready to be consumed, the clown.
While dining on him the chief asked me, "does this taste funny to you"?

[Roger]

"After digesting the Bothers Grimm," I replied, "the clown tastes delicious. It's the scattering of rosemary and thyme does it." The Dalmari chief nodded sagely, as he chewed on his braised brassica—for, extraordinary as it may sound, the chief was the only vegetarian in the tribe.

[Rich]

Odd it was that the chief was a vegetarian.
Years earlier in a tragic accident his brother was injured by a low flying 747 jetliner (go figure) and ended up brain dead. The expression that he was a vegetable was apt, but the villages nicknaming him Turnip seems impolite at least.

[Preston, Moderator]

We gathered round and sang Hail to The Chief as the cannibal chief took off to his vacation home in Sausalito and we heard a new song in the distance. "Hallelujah I'm a bum, Hallelujah bum again, Hallelujah give us a handout to revive us again."

"Hey bum. What are you doing here in Dalmari" said I as he drew closer. I'm not a bum. I'm Woodrow Wilson Guthrie but you can call me Woody cuz that's my nickname though I can't imagine how I got it. I'm no bum. I'm on a cultural exchange project with the Smithsonian to promote the songs of the Depression and my own Dustbowl Ballads to make that way of life popular again. Anyway with the default it's not like people got much choice except Hobson's Choice. Now I wrote a fine song about that right nice feller Hobson. Yup, a right fine feller he was. Like I was telling old razzy Putin over in the Kremlin on my Olympic tour, Vlad buddy you ought to change your name to Hobson because it suits your style of politics."

More than a little surprised I asked the bum. "You talked talked to Putin?"

"Oh yeah my Uncle Sam sent me over there to sing This Land is Your Land, It sure ain't my Land at the Oilympics. Old Putin premier cum president he said you can pay your share of my triumphant world's first Homo Free Olympics by sending me his bollocks since I know he has nothing else of value."

Old Woody just smiled and said, '"Well he could send you a bra for those man-boobs of yours. Shirtless fishing, hunting, horseback riding might give you nice legs but they do nothing for your top. Putin looked interested and I so I had make it clear it wasn't that kind of top I was talking about but rather his upper body fitness. He seemed a little disappointed (I could tell cuz his man-boobs drooped lower) that the President wouldn't send him a nice all-American hot and hung top but I suppose he wasn't too disappointed since he could get lots of Russian tops from his prisons where he keeps his hunkiest gay guys."

Waving his guitar with the word's "This machine kills facists" painted on Woody sang his "So Long It's Been Good to Know Ya" as he disappeared down the road wishing it really had killed Putin.


[Uncle Sam sneaks by on the way to Sochi, Russia holding a bloody baggy with Boehner and Barack's Bollix in it on the way to use them to pay Putin to bail American gay athletes out of jail at the Nyet-Homo Olympics.]

[Preston, Moderator]

Cronus mother looked down and saw his plate. "You didn't eat your forest." He replied, "Greens, greens, greens. Why is it always greens." She raised an eyebrow and sighed. "Is that anyway for the god of agriculture to talk? Have some figs then." Cronus rolled his eyes and ate the figs even though he knew he'd have the runs later. '

"Aw Ma it's boring on Mt. Olympus." A stern "But it's your home." was her reply. "I want to get down off Olympus and go to the Olympics" the earthy God complained. Not waiting for an answer he took off for Sochi, Russia.

There were big stadiums and enclosed tracks and more new facilities than in all of Russia. "Wow, this must have cost a billion dollars." Just then the figs kicked in and the god of agriculture fertilized the whole place.

[Rich]

Then in a sudden turn of events the guards are imprisoned and the gay athletes are guards.
Uniforms and batons and everything.
A true reversal of fortunes

[Preston, Moderator]

His job finished in Sochi Cronus returned to Mount Olympus and tended his garden until the day Zeus permanently retired him to the underworld—which isn't much to look at but has a lot of top grade fertilizer.

[Roger]

When he woke next morning – though not easy to tell when all is always dark – Cronus recognised that he was no Chthonic and dreamed awesome visions of conquering the upper world again and becoming an Air God. He called on the god of flight and wingéd Boeing came to his side to whisper… "Remember Icarus…"

[Preston, Moderator]

"Remember him? The dude is sitting right next to me!"

[Roger]

Is he still wearing his feather boa, or are the tips a bit singed?

[Preston, Moderator]

He's wearing his Air Force uniform.

[Roger]

Which means he has his wings and is ready to fly, as high as the sun in the sky.

[Boyd, Hunk of hunky burning passion]

No it mean's Cmbwey loaned him some clothes because the clothes Icarus had worn looked like leftover s'mores.

[Preston, Moderator]

He might take a train, he might take a plane but he's going to Kansas City and he get there all the same.

[Roger]

So high in the sky, he'll fly right over the rainbow, pretty much in Toto

[Preston, Moderator]

pretty much in toto but somewhat in parts

[Roger]

But his mom came and put hime together, and took young icarus by his slightly singed elbow to visit the zoo, so they could feed the Minotaur, probably the last dinosaur in captivity. The creature was actually difficult to feed, since he was accustomed to dining on virgin Athenian youth, and there hadn't been a whole lot of those left after Stonewall.

[Rich]

My great grandfather heard this and said "dining on virgin Athenian youth", hmmm.

[Roger]

That's Minotaurs for you, forever chasing Athenian youth and munching the bone marrow.

[Boyd, Hunk of hunky burning passion]

Minotaurs are bullies.

[Rich]

Bullies are #@%$&*.

[Roger]

But Minotaurs represent a primordial power, it's not that they want to be bullies, they simply have no control over their natural lusts. In fact - unless, of course, you happen to be an Athenian youth – we should all feel sympathy for the Minotaur, stuck in that damned maze engineered by Daedalus and Icarus (and we know what happened to that particular young man), fed the odd Athenian boy and girl by Minos. Minoses are bullies. And then along comes strutting Theseus with his silly bit of knitting wool…

[Preston, Moderator]

It wasn't just wool. It was his whole sheepskin. His diploma. Thesesus' Thesis was on Minos Molesting Maidens which was a triumph for Theseus but back home he has to fight Pallas for the Palace.

[Roger]

Was it the chalice with the palace or the flagon with the dragon which contained the brew that was true? No, clever Theseus knew it was the vessel with the pestle that had the pellet of poison and the brew that was true was in the chalice with the palace, so Pallas must drink from the vessel with the pestle and wily Theseus "accidentally" broke the flagon with the dragon and handed Pallas the chalice with the palace.

He dropped dead as a Persian with a phalanx in his back and Theseus entered the palace with his chalice.

[Boyd, Hunk of hunky burning passion]

It all Greek to me and that's no bull said Pegasus as he flew into town.

[Roger]

Pegasus was so fleet and light of hoof that he made no noise on the ground, so the town authorities (the boule) issued a by-law which meant a man had to precede Pegasus and make clip-clopping noises with two halves of coconut husk to warn citizens of his approach.

[Boyd, Hunk of hunky burning passion]

And that man was Eric the Idol because the town recycling rules require that we re-use a character we have leftover from another story. All of this was filmed by Terry and Gil Ham., the famed Ham brothers from Brazil.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvBF3L...

[Roger]

Terry and Gil Ham began his career by using lots of leftover characters and recycling them in a BBC TV series which flopped big time with the Suits, but the viewers lapped it up. And Terry was a master airbrushist who took some time out once upon a time to show a fledgling and budding artist how to wave the magic painting tool… and that young sapling artist was none other than Oliver the Fey.

[Preston, Moderator]

Astonishing. Almost as astonishing as the Time Bandits who stole the Adventures of Baron Von Munchausen They're a bad lot those Time Bandits.

[Roger]

But a lot busier than Eric the Idol, who sat at his pee-aano fortay and poured forth a load of spam. And Eric was unapologetic as, smiling, he agreed that he did indeed spamalot.

[Boyd, Hunk of hunky burning passion]

Pegasus was a lucky horse because his name was well respected not like that Fish Called Wanda.