Epic Mutant Storytelling, One by One

games
41

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nighjtgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nighjtgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed

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42

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nighjtgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nighjtgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed
[/quote]

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nighjtgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nighjtgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink

8 Likes
43

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nighjtgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nighjtgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night.

8 Likes
44

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nighjtgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief

5 Likes
45

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nighjtgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat

6 Likes
46

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nighjtgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead

4 Likes
47

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nighjtgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) would get power

5 Likes
48

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs

6 Likes
49

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her veins

7 Likes
50

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was

5 Likes
51

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

5 Likes
52

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon

4 Likes
53

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse,

5 Likes
54

[quote=“edgore, post:53, topic:220072, full:true”]
Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, like her – solitary and worn

5 Likes
55

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, like her – solitary and worn down revealing decades of trauma

5 Likes
56

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, like her – solitary and worn down revealing decades of trauma.

So it was murder! Most foul!!

6 Likes
57

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, like her – solitary and worn down revealing decades of trauma.

So it was murder! Most foul!!

Turns out, Wikipedia was correct

5 Likes
58

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, like her – solitary and worn down revealing decades of trauma.

So it was murder! Most foul!!

Turns out, Wikipedia was correct in at least one respect

5 Likes
59

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, like her – solitary and worn down revealing decades of trauma.

So it was murder! Most foul!!

Turns out, Wikipedia was correct in at least one respect: a banana is a berry.

5 Likes
60

Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.

And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.

After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.

A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”

The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”

“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”

While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.

Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, like her – solitary and worn down revealing decades of trauma.

So it was murder! Most foul!!

Turns out, Wikipedia was correct in at least one respect: a banana is a berry. And that proved instrumental in

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