Gonna go look up drawn butter now.
While the Count sleeps Anklebiter lights his shows on fire.
Beep Beep
Grunt grunt
Beep Beep
*Runs away at 88 MPH.*
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*Wakes up, feeling fresh as a daisy.*
Now that was a most enjoyable rest! What number are we up to now?
*Looks and sees that GoatToucher is tending to patient number twenty.*
Still a long way off, no matter, there's a TV over in the corner - I think that I'll watch some of my favourite shows!
*Goes to the TV, turns it on, grabs the remote and flicks through the channels and finds favourite shows - only to discover that someone has set them all on fire.*
What happened here?
Budgetary cuts have forced all teevee shows to be produced in the City Of Brass, though I must say that I enjoy 'Murder, She Wrote' much more now Jessica Fletcher is an efrit.
The only problem that I find with the revival is she now flash fries them.
Only 9 posts been slow without me.
'Bean' slow without me.
...No...
Poor patient 40.
That's one of the hazards of going to the free clinic.
Free in monetary terms, but not so far as mental stability, bladder control and being able to look one's friends and family in the face, etc., are concerned.
Should I sing (type) another line of Hair?
Quit while you are ahead.
Quit while you still have a head.
Quit while your receiving... never mind.
:GT emerges from behind the opaque curtains, nude but for a pair of fine leather shoes, stockings and a leather apron stained with a variety of fluids, some of a color that you do not think the humanoid body can produce:
:gestures to Vidmaster:
Come in my friend, come in! This will take a while, so, as they say: "The sooner begun, the sooner you'll wish it were finished, but it won't be finished until hours after that point, maybe days!"
:holds the curtain aside for out hirsute hero:
Jambi, get the gentlemen strapped down and fit him with a... (what are you?... 5'9"?) a number seven peg.
:enters the workroom dropping the curtain behind him, what follows is somewhat muffled by the... tarpaulin?:
Alright. Let's get going. You're going to want to bite down on this. There's a good lad. Now, without further ado...
:there is a noise that can only be describes as "moist" followed immediately by a splash of fluid on the curtain and a muffled cry of dismay:
There, there. that's the worst of it. :chuckles: I'm sorry: That's my little joke.
It's going to get much worse.
:the next twenty minutes contain more moist sounds, more splashes, and almost uninterrupted cries from Vidmaster. You wonder how he manages without stopping for breath:
:There is a clattering noise and a mild curse:
Blast it, Jambi! Where am I going to find an extra at this hour to replace the one you dropped? :sighs: Pull out your left eye while I handle this.
:GT pokes his head out from behind the curtain. It is almost completely coated with reddish brown fluid and a few... chunks:
Ah! Count Heydrich! How fortuitous! Thank you so much for waiting. I do hope the accommodations are to your liking.
I was wondering if you could help me with.. a bit of a snag in my current project. Won't be a minute.
:GT makes an absent gesture in the Count's direction, at which point the gold-filigreed arms and legs of the Count's chair secure his wrists and ankles, spreading his thighs in a manner that cannot bode well:
:it proves not to. What follows can generously be described as "minor surgery, sans anesthetic" performed on Count Heydrich's nether portions with a bread knife. GT stands, his arms stained with black ichor up to the elbow, holding a handful of flesh that you would rather not presume to identify:
There we are! Than you ever so much, your lordship. This will do nicely.
:GT turns, whistling, and returns to the Workroom. After a few moments, what you assume to be "No! Nonononono!" muffled by a gag or bit can be heard, followed by soft weeping, followed by the same moist noises and prolonged cries from before. They are periodically joined by a rasping noise, as if rough metal were being dragged along a hard surface:
NOW SERVING: 52
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But Vidmaster7 WAS number 52, so 53 is next. Anyway it doesn't matter to me, I'm number 85.
*Looks at the ticket to confirm that it is, and yes, it is 85.*
Good thing I only want the full body (minus the head) waxing therapy with optional spa and tanning salon treatment (which I will have).
*Hears a moist "plop" from beneath me, looks down and realises what is wrong.*
Ah, I completely forgot.
*Drinks a bottle of GoatToucher brand full healing brew, thus the "wound" GoatToucher inflicted upon me is no more.*
There we are, much better.
*Frowns* Internal (and external) organs grow back, but any more waxing talk and there's going to be bother.
No please make it all go away.
Look into my eyes.
:when you do, you see this:
Aghhhhhh please leave me alone !!!! No more probing Please make it stop !!!!!
I'll save you!
*GRAB*
Regular Vidmastr7 can't come to the phone right now.
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Well whoever is on the phone, please hang up, I'm trying to watch this film "The Road to El Dorado" which looks very similar to an adventure I once had with my good friend, Comte de Malodor, when we were younger. Indeed, the character of Tulio is exactly like Comte de Malodor, while Miguel is none other than myself.
Ah, yes. I have many delightful memories from that trip, as well as syphilis and an extra kidney (it's not yours, is it, Count?)
It's mine.
*SWIPE*
Now.
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Not sure who's it is (sorry WAS, beyond that it didn't belong to me). As far as that bought of syphilis goes however, it probably came from all the gold you liked to surround yourself with. After all, I spent all of MY time with the locals. Mind you, I'm glad we no longer have to see Tzekel-Kan anymore, I did not like that guy one bit!
He was no gentleman, that's for sure. Sock suspenders, fez, lapis lazuli nipple-rings and chainmail bracers after Whitsuntide - really! I've heard rumours that he marinades his housemaids in prosecco rather than using champagne, too, and it doesn't surprise me one bit.
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The little voice, remember? Just imagine for a moment that you have one. Now, what would it be saying about Chel?
Initially, at least, it would say "Who's Chel again?"
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That's not a good thing - Comte de Malodor - after all, Chel just so happens to be your wife (or at least, one of)! To be fair, she (Chel) Tzekel-Kan and everyone else was a mass cult lead by GoatToucher (I knew that Chief Tannabok, looked familiar). Fate is a funny thing. Of course, you don't believe in fate - Comte de Malodor - otherwise you wouldn't use loaded dice.
The curvy Mayan from road to El Dorado.
La Comtesse de Malodor is a Mayan?
Yuh-huh! And she was the most highly decorated fighter pilot in the Mexican Air Force, too, with over 55 confirmed kills, which makes her a Mayan Ace!!!!! Hugh hugh hugh hugh huuuugh!
I think your confused.
I was born that way.
Hasn't bothered me one bit.
I think like most of the counts posts just go right over my head.
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When he is that tall and you are that small, they usually do.
*Slap*
Someone just rang the Comte Alarm!
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Yes, that would be GoatToucher, because the next person to enter the workroom is number 60 (you, Comte de Malodor).
*Sees his friend enter GoatToucher's workroom, writes something on a piece of paper then talks to everyone else in the waiting room.*
So, from what I've gathered, the film "The Road to El Dorado" actually talks about how Comte de Malodor and I met a GoatToucher Cult lead by the head honcho himself. With the people being:
Tulio - Comte de Malodor
Miguel - Me
Chel - Schism (presumably)
Chief Tannabok - GoatToucher
Tzekel-Kan - Unknown
Cortez - Unknown (might be Uncle Teddy)