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Oh, NOW the Barbed Streislands turn up! Pfeh!
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The person you have called is currently unavailable.
Please leave a message and they will get back to you as soon they can.
Beep
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If it's important, they'll ring back, Schism. Now let us get back to our game of tiddle-de-winks.
Another day older, and deeper in debt.
Saint Peter don’t call me, cause I can’t goooo.
I owe my soul to the company store.
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oOOOOOOOoooOOOOooooOOOOOoooooOOOOoooh,
Let us all now wish a very Happy Birthday to Jurassic Bard,
Perhaps someone will present him with a block of kosher lard,
Or an omnibus ticket to the small town in Somerset, home of the Ferne Animal Sanctuary, known as Chard,
Or a gravy-covered Magic: The Gathering card,
En Garde!
Thankyou.
Nooo! We like bad poetry.
Yeah. We were getting all excited for the Mount Crumpet Beatnik Festival. Boo!
You're, like, the Great Khan of Wrongolia, man. I gotta stick of tea, a book of Alan Corso poetry, and Pulg's Incredible Bongo Band going bebapbebapbebapbediddlybapdebopdeboo, and the scene is stone cold swingin' like GoatToucher's bulbous [REDACTED], baby!!!!
Poisonous death?
Meh, I’ve had worse.
‘Member that time with the ineffable curse?
Or that time we went off a cliff?
Our bodies too broken to be called a stiff.
It put the undertaker in a terrible tiff.
Then there was them terrible horses,
they stepped on our heads,
and broke them, of courses.
i am
in the black gazebo
it is
black
all black
there is
no light
in the black gazebo
but no1 cares
it is black
in the black gazebo
no1, no1 cares
but some1
yes some1
has farted.
Behold! What Dionysiac ululations,
Are hurled forth from the fiery throat of their saxophones?
Beef lips embrace reeds,
Sausage fingers caress keys,
And the man of meat is transfigured by the golden goddess,
Into a volcano of sound and spirit!
Honk Honk! Toot! Yeah!
i am so sad
it is so bad
i wanted to go and see my chemmicul romance with Tyler
but no said mom and dad
o alas
u have to do ur homework or u will be killed by a cloud of odorless gas
it would have been so rad
but now i am sad
i feel like i am going mad
and it is bad.
I saw a little star
She went very far
But now she is gone
She fell to the ground
When nobody was around
Now I am all alone.
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Ode to the Count.
5 4 3 2 1
1 2 3 4 5
A gassy passage, in dark of night.
A peculiar odor. Nope that’s not right…
With murderous intent and drippy chin.
He wafts up to the window and seeps right in.
And bites your neck with a menacing grin.
But it don’t hurt, his teeth are rubber.
Maybe he’s got an older brother.
OooOOOOOooiOOOOooooH,
And here is an ode to Waterhammer,
Perhaps he is a person with whom famed chanteuse Cher is enamoured?
Because when she wished she could 'Turn Back Time',
It is so she and Waterhammer could jet off once again to sunnier climes,
Such as the paradisiacal South Sea island of Tahiti, where I believe,
One can disport oneself with 'Gypsies, Tramps and also Thieves'
Another thing Cher believes is that there is 'Life After Love',
I.e. after she and Waterhammer have removed socks, underclothing, and gloves,
In preparation for Amorous Activities,
Whatever might be their proclivities.
Thankyou.
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This is an ode to all the people who didn't get the memo (I need to fix that machine).
I lured you all to my home, seeking to cause nothing but trouble.
Though it appears that it was my woes to double (and I don't like it).
So, while Count Reiner Heydrich is struggling without his daughter,
Games of Blood Bowl continue like they ought to (because they're fun).
Now, all that's left is for you to leave, go on now, go away!
Hear me out, for there's only trouble if you stay (and I mean it)!
Even me boss?
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Obviously not you, silly fool! I have need of you, this place isn't going to clean itself!
And once you have done that, I've a couple of special assignments for you.
First, you find out all you can about something called: CD Adventure Search for the Lost City, as Count Reiner Heydrich seems desperate to talk to somebody about it (and you will assist him further until his daughter gets back).
You're second task, before aiding the Count, will be to look up the Power Rangers rpg that has just came out recently. Fortunately, you will not need to do much: just find it, make notes if you want and then tell me what you think about it.
Here, have a peanut.
La fête des beatniques de Mont Petite Gallette, c'est fini? Ah zut!
You're second task, before aiding the Count, will be to look up the Power Rangers rpg that has just came out recently. Fortunately, you will not need to do much: just find it, make notes if you want and then tell me what you think about it.
The fighting is okay, but the poses you have to make before you do them is kinda silly.
Mind if raid the fridge before I go?
Are you looking for a Philly?
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Yes, you may indeed raid the fridge, Schism. I have a private food supply for myself.
But, before that, you still need to complete the first task I have recently given you (your special assignments I mean, as I can see that you have cleaned up in here). You don't have to tell me anything, just make sure that Count Reiner Heydrich is satisfied with your findings. Plus, you may need to assist with commentating on the Blood Bowl games and offering your blood to him should he need it.
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The only thing I didn't touch is the pile of trombone slides.
As for donating to the Count... did that once, didn't like it.
Ah, that's where you left them! Careless, careless fairies!
He’ll regret it…
He will. They haven't practiced for weeks, and sound absolutely dire. It'll be even worse if they're under torture.
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Friends: for your amusement:
:satin curtains open to reveal a fairy band, though instead of flower wraths and twinkling bells, their sallow faces drip with purple ichor from every hole, the light of creation absolutely sapped from their faces, replaced with grim resolution:
:Their wings, once every color of the rainbow, are now black, grey, and the same deep purple as the fluid they secrete:
:Instead of trombones, they all now wield sousaphones:
:GoatToucher gestures, and they begin to play a slow, plodding, polka-dirge. The music pervades the mind, haunts the soul, and offends the ear with it's slow, never-ending Oom-Pah-Pah:
This music will now play at each of these interminable games until such time as it ceases to amuse me.
Phoomph...
...
Phoomph...
:weeps purple ichor:
Woo! Hoo! Battle of the bands!
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A dirge band vs a marching band.
Please vote for your favorite.
Winner gets an all expense paid trip to perform at halftime during the bloodbowl quarter finals.
They can't march. Not after he dislocated their knees.