*trots out onstage carrying a pack of posterboard and a Sharpie*
*writes carefully, making the Sharpie go squeak*
Sign: "This is to let you all know that I am ill."
*tosses posterboard aside, making it go whumph on the stage; starts writing on the next one, squeaksqueak*
Sign: "My throat is very very sore and I cannot speak above a croak."
*whumph, squeaksqueaksqueak*
Sign: "I will be spending most of the day on the couch."
*whumph, squeaksqueaksqueak*
Sign: "If you are waiting for a ficlet or comment from me, rest assured..."
*whumph, squeaksqueaksqueak*
Sign: "...I will deliver; just not right now."
*whumph, squeaksqueaksqueak*
Sign: "Thanks for your patience."
*collects fallen posterboard, bows to audience, trots offstage*
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Page Summary
October 2007
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Because the next step up is interpretive dance, and nobody wants to see that.
DadadaDATdaDA! Chaaarge!
Well, another Black Friday, and nobody's been trampled to death by crazed shoppers as far as I've heard. Of course, the day's not over yet. (...I've really turned into a misanthrope the last month or so, and it seems like the start of the holiday season has really exacerbated it. I'm kinda worried about this.) Mythbusters blather.
1. Tory's Meat Man freaked me right the hell out. Something about the hipbones sticking out under the skin like that. *shudder* ...On a related subject, NEVER GOING DEEP-SEA DIVING NEVER EVER. Because I just banged out a springkink at work and I'm feeling cocky.
Give me a pairing and an emotion, and I will write you at least two paragraphs of pure and glorious and entirely shameless SMUT for it. You can toss up as many prompts as you like, but I'll only guarantee one response per requester. No, really, they're tweets. :D?
- I just typoed 'Phantom of the Opera' as 'Phantom of the Opry.' Interesting AU, that. |