|Well Alganore, snore.
Idk, Miss M. I'm happy the old booklet is part of the county talent show now again. It's always been pleasing to hear from your alter-egos.
I know Alganore. Sure, Miss M. and this and that boy about town. The gallant this-and-that. But Lady M. lies quiet and alone now, Alganore. However can I face the townsfolk without a current man about townlet?
Mi'Lady, never fret -
With that, the lady m. tossed her hair back out of her face, sullen as she lay in bed typing on her iPad instead of her usual quill and parchment. "My folk hero stories du jour are indeed a pleasing bunch. Men of good character are hard to come by, Alganore; yet characters from those men in pleasing passing often linger on. [call comes from the hall] Alge, do wait by the bristle bush for me of late in passing in the 'morrow morning! Away, I have company a-calling now. Hush and shush! (waving with affection and tossing a few blown kisses in his direction as he soars outward thru the window on the East-side).
Tossing the laptop into her side-table drawer she declares proudly, "do come in." giggles, and begins Friday evening with pure delight.
i sat very quietly on the wood deck walkway next to the swampy pond, and waited. it was new jersey wildlife refuging at its best. it was autumn, i was on the road, and i wanted to explore the woods since woods are my favorite life style choice, for me. i live in the woods, in my heart, always. if i'm not in the woods, in my heart, i resonate there, with those animals. so I sat on the wood lattice, and waited. the sign posted for pond swamp visitors read something close to this,|
"this pond is filled with turtles. they blend in for their protection and safety. if you want to see them, stand here for 15-20 minutes, and you will see them." the answer awaits.
so i watched. (watched what i could not yet see.) about 10-15 minutes later, all in one instant, crystalized vision of turtles everywhere, literally about 50 or 80 of them. swimming, sitting on the banks of the pond. half in the water. doing all sorts of everything. teeming with life. outrageous!
for whatever issue. mundane to divine. (drop this in your toolkit)
"mother, come quickly!"
what is it, reginald? said lady morgan as she followed her boy out the door of the cottage into the woodlet. out the door, over the porch, through the terrain affixed with brick, back to the barren dirt path she followed to commune avec les cerfs. "my god what has happened to you?!!"
it was the little buck. not the big one with 3 prongs on each antler. not the mid-size one with the grey on its flanks, but the little one, with the rust-colored horns and he was injured. and so very sad.
maggie, who was sitting nearby him, turned and declared, "he's really hurt, mom." as that was all that could be said. he was alone, and frightened by his own pain. his mouth was abscessed deep inside, away from where I could tend. there was no poultice for this, as skittish fawns and even my most trusted friends of the deer family behind the wooded keep know - you don't take a deer to the apothecary or tend to them, you just stay with them until their wounds expire themselves. "my poor little angel" i coo'ed. must have said that a thousand million times before he laid down and left earth. that poor little angel. his hooves of fire tussled with another, his horns were ripped to shreds, his face attacked by some beast from his group. abandoned and outcast, he watched me watch him for over an hour longer than anybody could see another hurt that way and do nothing. maggie, reggie, and lady m. stood silent, sat nearby, and hung onto his every motion, until he left. we couldn't go, he had to. it is hard to imagine the look in his eye, watching me say he is okay with us there, when he was not well, and knew he was ended. he let us end him for him. we waited and he left. our good friend, the rust-colored antlers, and I -
there broke a rap on the door frame, timid and quiet. mi'lady? are you awake?
I'm writing a tale, lisette. what need of you to bother me here?
mi'lady (i turned towards the door to hear her) the champion debate takes place at 4 this afternoon. would you watch it?
yes! (and I slammed the tome shut) that is a well-happy diversion, lise (dust floating away from the bindings into the room) - do grab my cape (quill holstered). for i can write more about the gloom of life later."
|the Faun, sweet faun, he raised tail and beckoned me to play amongst the upper of the lowest hills of the mountains. I felt the razor but left, astray, for I had a date in town.|
sweet Gaia, then, as Isis the queen, smiled upon the day and suggested a stroll through the forest deep. I declined. I am perpetually ready to decline such an invitation as of now.
Pan screamed hello, faster than I could drive past without hearing him. great Ra, itself, beamed a welcome drip drip drip to the dewy ice strewn beneath. I smiled, and bit, busied, and declared myself a welcome visitor on the doorstep of the ever gracious and goodly Saint Clare.
Saint Clare walked in with a repertoire for me to follow. in her footsteps I read the request. I sincerely welcome her touch; however, I had business more pressing: my love.
my love heaves his chest and I fall into his silent embrace. and the day is swifter than Zeus embodied. better than the dewfall, heavier than the night itself.
Persephone once began a journey, underground. I felt the offerings of those places and "what say ye?" I am puzzled by the lack of competence to get the drift, abank, beyond, that I am tarried by more well come inviting masculations from my beloved.
Divine, that dream that brings his mind to the forefront as he awakened. Divine and pressing is my man's sweet afterthought. Divine and ever before me. Never beyond or behind. Forever, the mountain he is.
|Push the door, I'm home at last |
and I'm soaking through and through
Then you hand me a towel
and all I see is you
And even if my house falls down,
I wouldn't have a clue
Because you're near me, and
I want to thank you
for giving me the best day of my life
Ooh, just to be with you
is having the best day of my life
honey, I had a fantastic holiday.
can you even believe it went by so fast?
love you with every bit of my heart
"well," lady morgan told Arnold quietly, "do have him wait in the Main Vault. we'll be upon him shortly."|
as the doors to the Vault opened slowly, morgan was led into the room a bit unprepared for visitors, but certainly ready enough for this one. hand together with rusty's, she walked into the hall, a little reluctant and trailing a bit behind him, but made it, most certainly, to this impromptu meeting.
the Great Pumpkin was seated Over There, at the far side of the Round Table, okay well not actually the actual far side, but maybe at about 11 O'Clock, you might say. He was properly attired for a day at court and left nothing out of the wistfulness and glean about him as he stroked the surface of that mighty table with a delicate touch and a bit of a thirstful lusting.
"first time sitting at The Table?" offered rusty as a greeting equally imprompt.
up sprang the Great Pumpkin, almost to a stance of Attention. "Lord rusty, Mi'Lady, happily I meet with you on this day." and with a bit of a bow, was allowed to chill it down to normalcy by morgan who simply stated, "you are most welcome to join us at The Table anytime, monsieur, for as you can see by its delicate figure, it is, by nature, most certainly headless," and they joined him with handshake and a kiss on the cheek, respectively, and adjourned from any more formality to speak as kinfolk.
"sandra," began the pumpkin, "I have with me the plan that you requested. it's been drafted and is ready to take up." And he pulled a lengthy cylindrical carton out from underneath his cape. And handed it to lady morgan, simply stating, "your parchment."
without hesitation, she pivoted a bit pirouette to face her love, passed him the parcel and echo'd, "your parchment," with you see, a bit of emphasis on the word "your."
"oh, it's a present for you."
And the occasion...?
who needs an occasion. open it!
off popped the end of the tube, slid out the parchment, which rusty unrolled and spread out upon the Table. "sit your ass up here and tell me what we have here," and so she did. looking glibly at the Pumpkin then leaning over to point of every little detail of The Plan, as it were, ever so nicely laid to parch by the draftkeep, for her, for him, by it, as it was, at her request.
"is it in your favor, mi'lord?" she finished.
"i love it. sounds like a plan to me. thank you, baby."
and she smiled, and preened, a bit cheshire, as it were.
nobody would notice him pull her ever so friskily close to him for a nuzzle and a bit of a peck. nobody, except The Pumpkin, who certainly blushed a bit and declared, "I see you are pleased with my efforts. Happy to bring good tidings. For now, I take my leave." and he bowed, exited, and slammed shut the door behind him.
Alone. in the vault. a table bare except for the cheeks of his maiden, lord rusty muttered a bit under his breath, close to her cheek about next to her ear. "I have a plan of my own to spread about this table," and pulling on the Tassel which fastened her violet robe, he made her remember to be free..."
(fade to black)
|A sausage roll walks into a pub, walks up to the bar - barman says,|
"We don't serve food here."
lol. one more?
A mangy-lookin' guy goes into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender says "No way. I don't think you can pay for it." The guy says "You're right. I don't have any money, but if I show you something you haven't seen before, will you give me a drink?"
The bartender says "Only if what you show me ain't risque." "Deal!" says the guy, as he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a hamster. He puts the hamster on the bar and it runs to the end of the bar, down a barstool, across the room, up the piano, jumps on the key board and starts playing Gershwin songs.
And the hamster is really good. The bartender says, "You're right. I've never seen anything like that before. That hamster is truly good on the piano." The guy downs the drink and asks the bartender for another. "Money or another miracle else no drink," says the bartender. (continues a bit below)
...and lady morgan stood on her makeshift stage, down beyond the dust bunnies at the far end of The Attic, decked out in couture fatale, with dagger in her hand, and declared, "I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love."
"um, so that's Blake, now, isn't it?" asserted rusty from his beanbag chair a bit out in the center of the floor.
"Shh. no heckling. it gets better."
"That's my dagger isn't it?"
"You told me I could use it."
"That was just for that one night. You need to return that to me. It's government issue."
"It is not. Is it? knights don't get to keep their gear?"
"Hand it over," up he went right onto the platform, no decorum! and the chase ensued...
Around the room and back to the stage where she jumped as high as she could to keep it from his grasp. Of no avail, snagged right from out of her paws.
"I have an idea," said the lord to his lady, "I'll trade you the dagger for the rest of the play."
"Um?" she muttered, confused, until he said,
"Take the offer, you nut," and handing his dagger back to her, he smiled and finished, "you are by far the sweetest little actress ever to write me a play; I wouldn't miss it for anything."
and so, they played on, together.
The guy reaches into his coat again and pulls out a frog. He puts the frog on the bar, and the frog starts to sing. He has a marvelous voice and great pitch, a fine singer. A stranger from the other end of the bar runs over to the guy and offers him $300 for the frog.
The guy says "It's a deal." He takes the three hundred and gives the frog to the stranger, who runs out of the bar with it. The bartender says to the guy, "Are you some kind of nut?! You sold a singing frog for $300? It must have been worth millions. You must be crazy!" "Not so," says the guy. "The hamster is also a ventriloquist!"
only the most ridiculous parts of the following story are true:|
rusty: okay. now. go.
go go go.
the lady, morgan: omg! that was close. jiminy effing crickets.
got any more bright ideas? remind me next time to stick to the plot.
I tried, rusty, I tried. I just want it. come on. we're half-way to the portcullis.
fine. according to this surveillance data - you spent how much for? -
3 pence and a quill that belonged to the actual will shakespeare.
I just want it.
fine. well, supposedly, the guard will take leave of his post in about 3 or 4 minutes. when that happens, you need to listen to every little bit of movement everywhere. if you hear anything at all that could be a footstep - anything at all - you freeze dead in your tracks and spur yourself down. do you understand me? I'll take care of it.
"yah," she said softening a bit, her hair getting curled all dainty'ish around her finger as she swooned into his courage and...
(ooops, she's not paying attention anymore.)
morgan. not now. later.
okay. go -
and the two of them began to creep on tippytoes like the catburglar and the pink panther himself, barely touching afoot to the ground, as they alit over to the edge of the brick patio and up and over the railing to stand next to the portcullis, barely able to be outside any longer; that's how close they were to making it into the breach.
"we did it!" exclaimed morgan with a hushed whispered yelp. "omg. my heart is really pounding really fast. you think I'm gonna die from fright?"
well I hope not. now. are you ready. are you ready for the rest?
yah. I said yah.
you are going to stay right here, and guard the door.
WTF!?! no f'ing way. no f'g way. this is my adventure. gawd dang you.
I am going for the treasure.
take my dagger, it's sharper than yours.
at least give me your sword.
you can't even lift the sword. what're ya gonna do? dazzle them with it's loveliness?
fine. (long dramatic sigh) I like using your knife, too. jerk.
I mean, (longer sigh to let her slip back to her self) thank you for taking the risk so I don't have to (looking preeningly well taken care and kissing him on the cheek). don't forget to leave the gold coins on the table when you take the box, or we will surely suffer recompense for this action.
I understand. you scream really loud if anybody comes. okay?
ok. be careful. promise me you'll be careful.
"I'll be right back," he said, kissing her forehead and placing his dagger in her hand.
and... so he was... next seen running back down the side passage stairs with her damnable prize in his arms. running at a breakneck pace. and was upon her spot in the doorframe before she even had time to puzzle over the circumstance - he kept running, right by her in a way, grabbing her wrist as he went past, yanking her into flight, screaming back to her - RUN!!!
and so they ran. he had firm grip on her and pulled her along faster than anybody could ever imagine her feet taking her through the air. and close behind them both - in desperate pursuit - was perhaps the nastiest, drooliest, grungiest, grossest pair of evil beasts ever summoned to guard a treasure. the dogs at bay were both upon them. On Her Heels. fast they ran (we effing booked) out past the guard house, beyond the moat, over the hill, way out into the yard and with a panther leap, rusty was up on the chain link fence, the priceless box catapulted up and over the barricade to freedom, with rusty struck hung up on the fence like a cougar in a tree, grabbing the lady morgan by both wrists this time and just literally pulling her ass up off the ground onto that very same fence where she clung for dear life. the dogs at the ground level of that very same fence jumping and barking their vicious crazy f'ing drooling f'ing heads off, yapping and nipping with big fangly gross yellow'd gnarly teeth, at their heels.
morgan: panting uncontrollably, gasping for breath
rusty: you okay? you made it, you're okay.
"you (gasp gasp) threw the effing box, dear. are you crazy!?" and she scrambled up and glid down the other side of the fence, dropping to her knees to inspect the golden, with inlaid bronze and silver crescents, box full of her take. "it's okay. it didn't break."
"thank me later," said rusty as he jumped to the ground behind her. "get going. go to the car... now!"
yes! yet more intrusion to take leave from as the guard had apparently resumed his post and was headed this-away with torch and steel to assert himself upon whatever the dogs had cornered by the Gate to The Hills.
with get-away car in sight, the two didn't stop their run until they were in the car. doors shut, engine going. peel-out. morgan held tight to her box, and the lord sir rusty took over the driving now causing the car to run at the same harried speed. we drove for about 15 minutes, fast and straight into the interior of the wood. and then stopped. engine off. "we can't get any more remote than this for now. sit tight and we'll try to make it to safety in about an hour. they should find the coins and feel suitably compensated, if your f'ing plan works out okay. we'll make it back home safely. you hear hear that word, sandy? it's safely. I've had enough of you risking your life. that's it. no more stupid risks. if you need it badly enough, I'll take it on myself. you're done. D - O - N - E with battle. do you understand me?
"yah, rusty. i do." then heaving into her part a bit more, she shrilly let into: "omg! we could have been killed. did you see those dogs? omg!! they would have actually bit me. or I could have tripped and fell into the river! and then got eaten in the river by the snakes and eels! not to mention that guard! I think he had a rifle! I was so afraid! I do hate battle. I really really do. I'll be safer, I promise."
fine. (a nice length pause here) you like the box?
I love it! thank you. (she cooed)
one drop of verbana, a bit of lavendar. oh rose petals would be blissful. um... maybe a touch of vanilla? what do you think, pacino? a little too much vanilla?
apaches says, in due time, not a thing, but rubs up against the big oak store box with his muzzle and crawls back into the cavern he calls home these days, twirls his bod about 2 to 2 times then settles back to rest.
what a little sweet potato, morgan muses, then returns to grinding her potent blend down flat and smooth with mortar and pestle.
this should make for a soothing break from all that work and toil. did you draw the water, yet, lise?
up to the half-point, mi'lady. I've left the rest to boil upon the pike until the final notion of need, for maximum temp.
excellent. thank you so much lisette, you can go back to sleep now, too.
goodnight. and upon her departure, once quite sure she has footed her way clear down the hall... the sound of her footsteps departing... morgane begins to recite:
with fire and swath and a bit of tincture my most pleasant passtime is coddling of yours...
and the melody passes out the window, and down the way just a bit, and is caught by the ear of her dear lord, who hops down from the steed who seems a bit shaggied down as well. a moment or so later, he descends upon her stoop, and is up into the big dim room she calls her Arch. "mi'lady."
without contention, she swoops upon his hearth and removes his breastplate, and then takes his battered shield.
oh, rusty, just look at your bloody shield!
what? are you british now, lassie?
she giggles a bit and sighs. "hop on into the bath. I've prepared a very special blend of the best love in the world. lavendar. you'll love it.
and so the night passes small.