Was the third your birthday?
Indeed it was!
Shall I have my friend Thomas make you some fudge?
It’s probably too late now, but Thomas could make some for Hitherby_Admin!
Where’s Kwan Yin?
It turns out that you can actually find her in every Where’s Waldo? book.
It is particularly interesting because it is not what the manufacturers intended.
Sounds to me like someone’s been watching Nadesico.
It’s a permanent songvirus. I will be a doddering if dazzlingly pretty octogenarian and still, somewhere in the back of my head, there will be a Japanese song breaking spontaneously into “Going your days grow up!”
Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I did actually get around to burning. It seems like such an awkward prospect.
Stop, drop, and roll.
It’s as true today as it was in Moses’ time—and it was true then!
For that matter, the skeleton may not actually be saying or doing anything at all.
That’s crazy talk.
I want a wu wei skeleton.
— James Allen
The necromancer scours the tombs of the dead
And finds nothing but empty shells.
The master takes no action
And the dead come to him.
Hmm..the Hitherby look at the birds and the bees evolves into Peanuts…
— Penultimate Minion
Sorry, I’m not that kind of girl!
Wom womwom wom, wom wom womwom wom.
That’s what they all say.
Wom womwom wom, wom wom womwom wom indeed.
— Ford Dent
“He gestures down at the strange inflating, pulsing organ in his lap”
Well, that’s … one way to describe it, I guess.
Lovecraft would probably have used ‘blasphemous, unspeakable organ’, while Tolkien would have written a cheerful hobbit song (or perhaps one of the majestic laments of Rohan) on the matter. However I feel that it is necessary to find my own voice lest I be seen as reiterating the classics.
So, what gets shown to us in the deepness of the night exactly? The legend, the small red things, or the boxes? I’m guessing it’s the legend that gets shown, but it’s a bit ambiguous. Not that that’s bad.
The legend, I had intended; although, I must admit, people have been coming into my room at night, holding up mahogany boxes, and then leaving again. So possibly any of the above.
Goodness gracious, that’s one of my favourite stories yet. Plasma balls and true love are a wonderful combination. Thank you for your writing.
Thank you for your kind words!