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Milk and Cookies??
Dec. 3rd, 2005 11:58 pmJustin and Michael told a fore-ordained perfect-for-HRSFA one-word-alternating story...the results were...interesting...help with words would be appreciated:
(Francis the duck wanted to write an obituary about himself...don't know the exact words here.)
a terrible horde of djinns were approaching the castle where he lived with his wife and mistress and their three uncles. Francis was puzzling to finish his obituary because he knew that djinns are notorious and evil and furious awful warriors. But he couldn't think of a good ending. "Hmm," said Francis. "I wonder if I should die gloriously or foolishly. Indeed, both are quite interesting. I'm thinking I ought to put the question to my uncles." So he took a pen-and-paper ballot to his uncles and ordered his uncles to vote on the manner in which he would die. "I think that you should decide for me," he exclaimed. His uncles thought for many seconds before scribbling an answer: his uncles had decided upon an appropriately foolish manner to die. So he went to the tallest wizard in the kingdom who was often called "No-man's-footstool [Justin's word here]". And he declared, "You, my faithful wizard, make me a glacier! For I am resolved to be a dead fool." So the wizard made him an exceedingly slippery glacier and named it Steve. Steve was somewhat on the dull side, but when he got going he really did his job. "Hello," said Steve, "I'm a glacier." "Greetings," said Lord Count Francis Bacon the First, also known as the (?). "The manner in which I am to die will be a glorious tale to warn others of the dangers of death. "Interesting," said the glacier. And so he set out to meet the djinns in full armor and riding a glacier. {clippity} Horse/glacier as they rode wildly and recklessly forward, for they had little fear of the terrible swords of the vicious djinn. They came upon the encampment after much slow travel. The djinn were even waiting for the lord count and his glacier Steve as they approached their spirit's quell and they drew their swords lustily. "Ahoy there!" called the leader of the djinns. "What manner of formality do I call you?" "I am Lord Count Sir Francis the First, also known as Tiddly-Poo." Tiddly-Poo was a name of great renown amongst the djinn, so they welcomed him with admiration. "Come, join us and we will regale you with a tale, but only if you promise not to take our most sacred and fiery and combusting and warm invisible unpredictable treader, which is the awesome powerful invisible carpet of flying and (?coordination?)." "But I must provoke their anger and thereby cause my vainglorious demise, so I will surely steal their carpet," plotted Francis. So he went into the camp and crept sneakily through the camp until he came upon the nothing. He surmised that this nothing signified the magic invisible flying carpet and therefore he reached down at it and grabbed at the thin air and yelled loudly, "I have stolen the magic invisible flying carpet! Aha!" But unfortunately he had only grabbed a patch of grass. So he was foolishly unable to earn his death. Steve commented wryly, "You fool! You bungled the foolish endeavor, and now I must finish the deed! Never would I allow a rider to perish without (fail?) or foolishness. So Steve glaciered into the campfire at them, confusedly melting himself and crying salty tears of pain. "To day will I go forth into the underworld and take the famous invisible flying carpet with me!" The djinn all laughed and then drowned in a great debacle of epic proportions. One djinn survived for he was the craftiest djinn ever to drive his motorcycle, and he told Francis the Indomitable, "To day was an amazing one, so I will therefore relay my tale to HRSFA." And so he passed the tale to a young science concentrator which went down in history as a hopeless terrible teller of one man's quest to meet his own demise. The moral lord makes for a great story. The end. The moral of the story is: Don't kill your self in a one time frenzy. Instead, you should summon all your life and live happily and ever after.
(Francis the duck wanted to write an obituary about himself...don't know the exact words here.)
a terrible horde of djinns were approaching the castle where he lived with his wife and mistress and their three uncles. Francis was puzzling to finish his obituary because he knew that djinns are notorious and evil and furious awful warriors. But he couldn't think of a good ending. "Hmm," said Francis. "I wonder if I should die gloriously or foolishly. Indeed, both are quite interesting. I'm thinking I ought to put the question to my uncles." So he took a pen-and-paper ballot to his uncles and ordered his uncles to vote on the manner in which he would die. "I think that you should decide for me," he exclaimed. His uncles thought for many seconds before scribbling an answer: his uncles had decided upon an appropriately foolish manner to die. So he went to the tallest wizard in the kingdom who was often called "No-man's-footstool [Justin's word here]". And he declared, "You, my faithful wizard, make me a glacier! For I am resolved to be a dead fool." So the wizard made him an exceedingly slippery glacier and named it Steve. Steve was somewhat on the dull side, but when he got going he really did his job. "Hello," said Steve, "I'm a glacier." "Greetings," said Lord Count Francis Bacon the First, also known as the (?). "The manner in which I am to die will be a glorious tale to warn others of the dangers of death. "Interesting," said the glacier. And so he set out to meet the djinns in full armor and riding a glacier. {clippity} Horse/glacier as they rode wildly and recklessly forward, for they had little fear of the terrible swords of the vicious djinn. They came upon the encampment after much slow travel. The djinn were even waiting for the lord count and his glacier Steve as they approached their spirit's quell and they drew their swords lustily. "Ahoy there!" called the leader of the djinns. "What manner of formality do I call you?" "I am Lord Count Sir Francis the First, also known as Tiddly-Poo." Tiddly-Poo was a name of great renown amongst the djinn, so they welcomed him with admiration. "Come, join us and we will regale you with a tale, but only if you promise not to take our most sacred and fiery and combusting and warm invisible unpredictable treader, which is the awesome powerful invisible carpet of flying and (?coordination?)." "But I must provoke their anger and thereby cause my vainglorious demise, so I will surely steal their carpet," plotted Francis. So he went into the camp and crept sneakily through the camp until he came upon the nothing. He surmised that this nothing signified the magic invisible flying carpet and therefore he reached down at it and grabbed at the thin air and yelled loudly, "I have stolen the magic invisible flying carpet! Aha!" But unfortunately he had only grabbed a patch of grass. So he was foolishly unable to earn his death. Steve commented wryly, "You fool! You bungled the foolish endeavor, and now I must finish the deed! Never would I allow a rider to perish without (fail?) or foolishness. So Steve glaciered into the campfire at them, confusedly melting himself and crying salty tears of pain. "To day will I go forth into the underworld and take the famous invisible flying carpet with me!" The djinn all laughed and then drowned in a great debacle of epic proportions. One djinn survived for he was the craftiest djinn ever to drive his motorcycle, and he told Francis the Indomitable, "To day was an amazing one, so I will therefore relay my tale to HRSFA." And so he passed the tale to a young science concentrator which went down in history as a hopeless terrible teller of one man's quest to meet his own demise. The moral lord makes for a great story. The end. The moral of the story is: Don't kill your self in a one time frenzy. Instead, you should summon all your life and live happily and ever after.
