"Fire, dammit! Why aren't you firing?!"
Justin gesticulated wildly, yet ineffectively, at the approaching horde of brass-bound Ticky-Tocks, the clockwork killers of the dreaded Doctor Bronze. The whirring and clanking of their gear-driven march was growing louder as they advanced, unstoppable, across the marble floor of the Grand Ballroom. Not even the rich velvet curtains covering the windows could muffle the cacophony of their grinding advance.
When no decimating volley of gunfire was forthcoming despite Justin's high-pitched exhortations and wild, yet, as mentioned, ineffective gesticulations, he turned to see what Professor Happenstance was doing.
The professor was hunched over, sweating profusely and working the gears on his hand-held arm-length gatling-style firearm, while the lovely Miss Norrup blew frantically on the embers held in the lower cage of the fire-pack the professor bore on his back. "The flame's gone out!" the professor cried. "There's no pressure for the gun!"
Justin had just enough time to mutter "Bloody steam-driven guns" before his life was snuffed out by a metallic spring-driven hand propelling itself through his skull with terrific force.
marks MM's post for "inspiration".
"Inspiration" is a good name for a dirigible.
Cass, e me your postal addy, and I shall send you a literate simian.
Insent. Because I'll listen.
Zen, my phone didn't ring, and I have no missed calls. Must have been wihout signal. Glad you got some things done, and I'd love to play the productivity game tomorrow via email, chat, phone, or board post.
I've been through it before, with other friends, so I may be overreacting. But I think it's better to care too much.
My rule is to take any mention seriously. And yes, asking about plans is key. Or, what everyone else said.
I just watched Sherlock Holmes for the first time. Bloody brilliant. Although I'm afraid it did nothing to shift my opinion of Rachel McAdams to the positive. Oh well.
And Miracleman, I read your whole passage aloud to amyth's guffaws. I then inquired of the heavens why you were not yet rich beyond imagining. Sadly, I received no reply.
I then inquired of the heavens why you were not yet rich beyond imagining.
A question I ask constantly. I also receive no reply.
Also, since I haven't said it recently, I love my Frankie boy. He's my sweet angelpuppy from heaven. Even when he pees in the living room or jumps up on my bed with "snacks" from the litter box. Oh, how I wish the adage "One man's trash is another man's treasure" did not so aptly apply.
Ergh. The snack box is a pooch problem...well...not a problem for them so much.
Yesterday's doggy lama client was an 8 week old Labradoodle (killer cute and home just 3 hours) who has moved in with two cats. We spent some time devising aversion and segregation strategies.
It's a tough one.
Coincidentally, I sent a message to a friend this evening about how wonderful Bartleby has been lately. He always has been, but even 8.5 years into it, I love him more every day.
When we saw -t today we gave her hugs and love from everyone
