And Scott's full of crap. I adored that, Cindy.
Whatever happened to the still beating heart of a virgin? No one has any standards anymore.
Giles ,'Lies My Parents Told Me'
The Great Write Way
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
deborah grabien - Dec 22, 2004 9:45:22 am PST #8855 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Topic!Cindy - Dec 22, 2004 9:48:32 am PST #8856 of 10001
What is even happening?
Scott wanted to use the PC for "work" or whatever.
Back off my toy, buster.
(Thanks Beverly and deb)
Atropa - Dec 22, 2004 10:20:43 am PST #8857 of 10001
The artist formerly associated with cupcakes.
I think I'd need to go look at wherever section the stores use for horror these days.
That would be the general fiction section, IF they stock any horror at all.
deborah grabien - Dec 22, 2004 10:20:46 am PST #8858 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
(blowing raspberries at Scott)
(in a kind way, of course)
erikaj - Dec 22, 2004 11:02:48 am PST #8859 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
I liked it too, Cindy. I was just writing, not posting, though.
Topic!Cindy - Dec 22, 2004 11:24:41 am PST #8860 of 10001
What is even happening?
erika, yours had me crying.
erikaj - Dec 22, 2004 11:28:44 am PST #8861 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
I'm sorry. Now I'll have to write nothing but wiseassed carnage for weeks to get my rep back!
Amy - Dec 22, 2004 11:38:41 am PST #8862 of 10001
Because books.
erika and Cindy, those were both wonderful. Cindy, I know that urge so well. And erika...well, there aren't really words.
Damn allergies.
JoeCrow - Dec 23, 2004 1:32:36 am PST #8863 of 10001
"what's left when you take biology and sociology out of the picture?" "An autistic hermaphodite." -Allyson
Dang, now mine seems all mean and bitter.
Drabblement: Talisman
The last thing she feels, after the hands pulling her into the alley, the teeth gnawing at her neck, and her limbs going cold, is the cross clutched in her hand. "Father, help me..." she prays, more to the one who'd given it to her than the one crucified on it.
The first thing it feels as it wakes, before the raging thirst or the drive to hunt, is the burning thing clutched in its hand. It hisses in pain as it flings the tiny object away.
Zenkitty - Dec 23, 2004 3:47:18 am PST #8864 of 10001
Every now and then, I think I might actually be a little odd.
Cindy, erika, I thought yours were lovely.
Joe - wish I'd written that!