People like to hear their names
I'm no exception
Call my name
No new tale to tell
No new tale to tell
When you're up
No new tale to tell
*Chirp*
MOUSEBENDER: Good Morning.
WENSLEYDALE: Good morning, sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium.
Holy snappin' duck sh!t...
taig you are almost as screwed up as Moorluck! ;)
I try. I really do.
Say, did you ever hear back from KQ about your article?
And now the rest of the sketch all at once:
MOUSEBENDER: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmond Street just now, skimming through Rogue Herries by Hugh Walpole, and I suddenly came over all peckish.
WENSLEYDALE: Peckish, sir?
MOUSEBENDER: Esurient.
WENSLEYDALE: Eh?
MOUSEBENDER: (In a broad Yorkshire accent) Eee I were all hungry, like.
WENSLEYDALE: Ah, hungry.
MOUSEBENDER: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, 'a little fermented curd will do the trick'. So I curtailed my Walpoling activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles.
WENSLEYDALE: Come again?
MOUSEBENDER: I want to buy some cheese.
WENSLEYDALE: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bouzouki player.
MOUSEBENDER: Oh, heaven forbid. I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse.
WENSLEYDALE: Sorry?
MOUSEBENDER: (In a broad Yorkshire accent) Ooo, I like a nice tune - you're forced to.
WENSLEYDALE: So he can go on playing, can he?
MOUSEBENDER: Most certainly. Now then, some cheese please, my good man.
WENSLEYDALE: Certainly, sir. What would you like?
MOUSEBENDER: Well, eh, how about a little Red Leicester?
WENSLEYDALE: I'm afraid we're fresh out of Red Leicester, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: Oh never mind, how are you on Tilsit?
WENSLEYDALE: I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir. We get it fresh on Monday.
MOUSEBENDER: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly, if you please.
WENSLEYDALE: Ah. It's been on order, sir, for two weeks. I was expecting it this morning.
MOUSEBENDER: It's not my lucky day, is it? Er, Bel Paese?
WENSLEYDALE: Sorry, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: Red Windsor?
WENSLEYDALE: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
MOUSEBENDER: Ah. Stilton?
WENSLEYDALE: Sorry.
MOUSEBENDER: Emmental? Gruyère?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Any Norwegian Jarlsberger, per chance?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Liptauer?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Lancashire?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: White Stilton?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Danish Blue?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Double Gloucester?
WENSLEYDALE: ..... No.
MOUSEBENDER: Cheshire?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Dorset Blue Vinney?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Brie, Roquefort, Pont-l'Évêque, Port Salut, Savoyard, Saint-Paulin, Carre-de-L'Est, Bresse-Bleu, Boursin?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Camembert, perhaps?
WENSLEYDALE: Ah! We have Camembert, yes sir.
MOUSEBENDER: You do! Excellent.
WENSLEYDALE: Yes, sir. It's, ah ..... it's a bit runny.
MOUSEBENDER: Oh, I like it runny.
WENSLEYDALE: Well, it's very runny, actually, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: No matter. Fetch hither le fromage de la Belle France! M-mmm!
WENSLEYDALE: I think it's a bit runnier than you'll like it, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: I don't care how f#@&ing runny it is. Hand it over with all speed.
WENSLEYDALE: Oh .....
MOUSEBENDER: What now?
WENSLEYDALE: The cat's eaten it.
MOUSEBENDER: Has he?
WENSLEYDALE: She, sir.
(pause)
MOUSEBENDER: Gouda?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Edam?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Caithness?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Smoked Austrian?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Japanese Sage Darby?
WENSLEYDALE: No, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: You do have some cheese, do you?
WENSLEYDALE: Of course, sir. It's a cheese shop, sir. We've got .....
MOUSEBENDER: No, no, don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
WENSLEYDALE: Fair enough.
MOUSEBENDER: Er, Wensleydale?
WENSLEYDALE: Yes?
MOUSEBENDER: Ah, well, I'll have some of that.
WENSLEYDALE: Oh, I thought you were talking to me, sir. Mr Wensleydale, that's my name.
(pause)
MOUSEBENDER: Greek Feta?
WENSLEYDALE: Ah, not as such.
MOUSEBENDER: Er, Gorgonzola?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Parmesan?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Mozzarella?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Pippo Crème?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Danish Fimboe?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Czech sheep's milk?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?
WENSLEYDALE: Not today, sir, no.
(pause)
MOUSEBENDER: Ah, how about Cheddar?
WENSLEYDALE: Well, we don't get much call for it around here, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: Not much ca- It's the single most popular cheese in the world!
WENSLEYDALE: Not round here, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: And what is the most popular cheese round here?
WENSLEYDALE: Ilchester, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: Is it.
WENSLEYDALE: Oh yes, sir. It's staggeringly popular in this manor, squire.
MOUSEBENDER: Is it.
WENSLEYDALE: It's our number-one best seller, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: I see. Ah, Ilchester, eh?
WENSLEYDALE: Right, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: All right. Okay. Have you got any, he asked expecting the answer no?
WENSLEYDALE: I'll have a look, sir ..... nnnnnnooooooooo.
MOUSEBENDER: It's not much of a cheese shop, is it?
WENSLEYDALE: Finest in the district, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please.
WENSLEYDALE: Well, it's so clean, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: It's certainly uncontaminated by cheese.
WENSLEYDALE: You haven't asked me about Limberger, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: Is it worth it?
WENSLEYDALE: Could be.
MOUSEBENDER: Have you- SHUT THAT BLOODY BOUZOUKI UP!
WENSLEYDALE: (To dancers) Told you so.
MOUSEBENDER: Have you got any Limburger?
WENSLEYDALE: No.
MOUSEBENDER: That figures. Predictable really, I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place. Tell me:
WENSLEYDALE: Yes, sir?
MOUSEBENDER: Have you in fact got any cheese here at all?
WENSLEYDALE: Yes, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: Really?
(pause)
WENSLEYDALE: No. Not really, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: You haven't.
WENSLEYDALE: No, sir, not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: Well, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you.
WENSLEYDALE: Right-O, sir.
MOUSEBENDER: (Shoots him) What a senseless waste of human life.
*Chirp*
The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
Contributor, RPG Superstar 2012
|
Say, did you ever hear back from KQ about your article?Yeah wasn't accepted. :(
Oh well. If at first...How did yours go?
I haven't heard about my first article. I'm not quite sure what that means. I also submitted a monster, but I haven't even heard whether it's been received. I'll follow up after GenCon.
Sorry to hear yours wasn't accepted.
And to finish the song:
The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear.
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.
Thanks, Flash, for popping in and giving me respite from talking to myself.
You do not talk about the new page.
Thread destruct in T-minus 49.
No more out of you, Mr. Doom and Gloom!
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
Happy to have, not to have not
Big business is very wise
I'm crossing over into
E-enter-prize
I'm going over to the other side
I'm happy to have not to have not
Big business is very wise
I'm inside free enterprise
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
This is not a love song
Now are you ready to grab the candle
That tunnel vision - not television
Behind the curtain - out of the cupboard
You take the first train - into the big world
Now will I find you - now will you be there
Not a love song
Not a love song
Not a love song
Thread destruct in T-minus 35.