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biggie528
biggie528
Lucky Stiff

Aug-23-2006 22:01

I have created a sleuth miracle!

IT IS THE UNHIJACKABLE THREAD!

Go ahead and try, but this thread is about anything and nothing, all at the the same time!

This is the place where Al can talk about world domination, Crunch can worship David Hasselhoff, SS can try and find even more complicated questions for his pub quizzes, Nikkie can advertise for Tim Tams, cfm can troll for more Sharpie victims, JR can beg for the chance to win Bobo back, and bedazzling can be a way of life!

So go off, rant and rave, talk about anything, i don't care, I just wanted to see my avatar on the page (when its actually me anyways)

So go ahead, I dare you all to try and hijack me :)

Replies

jstkdn
jstkdn
Well-Connected

Dec-15-2009 07:37

Hey Breit.....so did Secret hold you at gun point to pawn that one off? Or did he send a mob of shady characters around. :)

Anais Nin
Anais Nin
Thespian

Dec-17-2009 10:06

A Story of Floating Weeds (1934) is a pretty good movie. :D

Elizabeth Christie
Elizabeth Christie
Tireless Tiger

Dec-17-2009 16:40

You know, it really annoys me when the client give me WE against the guilty person. If you saw him leaving the crime scene at the time of the murder, don't you think that would have been a pertinent detail to convey when you hired me for the case!

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Dec-20-2009 05:58

having seen the new sepia tones for mods, admins, etc, I can't help but think that it's not just biggie's cigarette clouding up her av.

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Dec-22-2009 03:11

entry for Christmas Story Comp that is way too long:

oh and my apologies in advance :D

......

Santa sat up and scratched his mop of tangled, snowy locks, wondering absently where his hat was. He winced. It was like someone was letting off fire firecrackers inside his poor old Christmas noggin. Santa quickly realsied he was feeling far from jolly.

He didn't really remember much about the evening before... well, that wasn't quite right. He remembered the presents, and of course the children - it had been a glorious evening of dashing through the snow and coursing across the midnight sky. Even when the new toy distribution software had crashed over Denmark and he'd had to resort to the back up database printout, it hadn't been the end of the world. Even Microsoft couldn't stop Christmas - and the evil Mr Gates had tried, oh how he had tried... but that was another story.

So yes, Christmas had been its usual joy and blessing to one and all. It was what happened after that Santa was a little hazy on.

He remembered that he'd joined the Christmas Eve Poker Party sometime after delivering his last parcel in Australia. Jack Frost had poured him a large glass of something he'd called 'Good for What 'Ale's Ya', and Santa had settled back into his chair and cashed himself in. Jack had decided to be a little festive this year for everyone's amusement, but Santa wasn't so sure a snowman with a tomato for a nose was all that festive. It just made him want a Bloody Mary.

Elvis greeted Santa was his usual 'Santa has entered the building', and Santa was obliged to answer with the perennial 'Thank you Very Much'. It was an old joke - not a good one - just an old one. Elvis was of course resplendent in sequinned white. This year he'd had a string of twinkling lights sewn into his jump suit, the words 'Have Mercy' blinking brightly across his back.

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Dec-22-2009 03:15

Santa had looked at the pile of money in front of Jesus and thought perhaps that playing poker with the omnipotent Son of God wasn't the best idea, but the rules were quite clear, no cheating; no use of mystical, magical or supernatural powers, (oh and no wives, life partners, or significant others, of course). If they hadn't had that rule in place Jesus and the Dalai Lama would have spent all night winning money off each other. Sure, the Dalai Lama didn't have any old world god-power, but boy could that monk cheat. The 'Smiling Assassin', that's what they called him at the Poker Table.

So the night had gone on, and on, and Santa supposed, on... maybe a little too long.

He vaguley remembered singing a medley of Broadway tunes with Blitzen. Now there was an animal who knew how to drink. Though Santa was pretty sure that Blitzen wasn't the only drunken reindeer that night. He was almost certain that some time throughout the evening Rudolph had tried to go south for Winter with a passing flock of honking geese, and it had taken Dancer and Prancer to force him down out of the air, whereupon he had passed out whispering the words to the theme from Watership Downs.

Santa twitched a little thinking about Dancer and Prancer, but no, he knew he was just being an old fuddy duddy, no better than those blue haired grannies that shook their canes at youngsters on skate boards, and complained about the music being too loud. What two consenting adults err reindeers did in the privacy of their stables was up to them. Those boys had been with him for centuries. They were family, Santa reminded himself. Family!

But that was about where the Christmas lights when out.

Vainly trying to extricate himself from the tangle of arms and legs, and err.. hooves, he found himslef enmeshed in, Santa looked around the Worshop and realised he had a few questions he would have liked answered, and some perhaps he didn't.

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Dec-22-2009 03:17

Did Santa want to know where the troupe of dancers from the Moulin Rouge had come from... no... well OK he did 'kind of', but not right now. 'Ho, Ho, Ho' Santa said, absently glancing down at an anonymous derriere. Flashback 1. and he allowed himself a guilty little smile.

Did Santa want to know why he was wearing nothing but a pair of clown shoes and why he was holding a rubber chicken... no... well... no, definitely, he did not. He did want to know where his Santa Suit was though.

A cat meowed behind him. 'Funny', Santa thought, putting down the rubber chicken, 'I don't own a...' Flashback 2. 'Comet!'

Sure enough, when Santa turned there was a cat, a cat with antlers. He shook his head and picked up Comet, 'Well you were warned old boy. The joke about Jesus being nailed to that inflatable palm tree was funny the first time... but you had to keep at it didn't you.' Comet just meowed again forlornly. Santa chuckled thinking about Comet wobbling back and forth shouting, 'Who am I? Who am I...? Jesus on a rubber cross!!' The Son of God was a good friend, but he'd inherited his Father's Old Testament sense of humour, that is, he didn't have one.

'It'll wear off', he told Comet as he put him back down. 'I hope', he whispered to himself.

A throat cleared itself from the workshop doorway and Santa froze. Turning slowly he came eye to eye with Mrs Claus. He tried to smile and stumble out a greeting, but he'd only just caught sight of himself in the workshop mirror and noticed the words (albeit in reverse to him) 'Guess who's coming for Christmas' emblazoned across the broad expanse of his belly in what appeared to be red lipstick A pleasant seasonal message no doubt, but quite distracting nevertheless.

The implaccable Mary Christmas, the calmly serene Mary Christmas, the dangerously quiet Mary Christmas, looked Santa up and down for only a few moments, then hefted Santa's Suit towards him, turned, and walked out.

3/4


Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Dec-22-2009 03:18

[cant count 4/5 actually]

Santa stumbled towards the door as he hastily tried to pull his Santa Suit on over the clown shoes he still wore. Kicking the offending footwear across the workshop he spied his Santa Boots in the corner. Comet meowed behind him loudly, almost urgently, but Santa was in a hurry. SQUELCH. Santa pulled his foot out of his Santa Boot very tentatively. Flashback 3. The pile of unpeeled turnips that Jack had supplied the reindeer, the 'special' purple potato pancakes the Dalai Lama had tossed them all night, the alchohol, the flying... RUDOLPH!

Santa looked down at whatever it was that covered his foot and felt himself turn green.

Tossing the boot across the room he ran out into the courtyard, and tried to clean his foot as best he could by dragging it in the snow as he made his way to the Cottage - a Christmas Quasimodo, if you like.

He slowed as he reached the back door to the kitchen, taking a few moments to fumble with his buttons; to try and compose himself, his head whirring like a spinning top trying to come up with a reasonable scenario that he could pass off to his wife.

'Mary...', he said gently, opening the door just a crack. No answer. Santa pushed the door fully open and stepped inside to the blessed warmth of the kitchen. The empty kitchen.

'Mary?' he said - not bravely - just a little more loudly. Silence. He spied his Santa hat hanging limply from the old rusted candelabra on the mantelpiece and hopped over to fetch it - knowing the wet squishy feeling between his toes meant his foot wasn't free of the evil mess of reindeer vomit.

There was a note inside the hat.

Secret_Squirrel
Secret_Squirrel
Safety Officer

Dec-22-2009 03:21

Santa made his way over to the kitchen table and slumped into a chair. He reached for a slice of rye toast by habit, but then thought better of eating anything and set it back. He realised, guiltily, that Mary had laid out quite a banquet ready for his return. She'd even brought out the year old Christmas cake that Brittany had sent Santa last year. Mary had said that just like that 'poor, poor, girl' the cake had needed time to dry out. Santa smiled at his wife's little joke.

His smile didn't last as he read the note. It was from Mary.

Mrs Claus had gone to stay with her sister for a few days. There was no need to make contact. Santa, she stated plainly, had a LOT of cleaning up to do, some young ladies to escort home, a reindeer or three to tend to, and at least half a dozen polar bears to apologise to. Santa winced again, wondering what he'd done to the local polar bear population last night.

Mary went on to explain, that she had harnessed Rebecca, Sarah, Jacob and Amos to the B-Sled, and would bring them back in due course.

'Typical', Santa thought, ruefully, catching a glimpse through a frosty window, of a dozen or more elves dragging a snoring Rudolph by the tail across the courtyard towards the stables.

If he'd used the Amish reindeer none of this would have happened in the first place.

END

Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Dec-22-2009 04:11

Hilarious!! Love your entry. Too bad it was way past the limit, but thank you for posting it so that we can all enjoy the wonderful tale (^^)

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