Seanachai Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 Relax, Berli. He didn't make it up. He just modified it... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Berlichtingen Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 Relax, Berli. He didn't make it up. He just modified it... Versification is versification. Dalem is strictly prohibited from all forms of versification. It was a compromise... we were going for prohibiting him from all forms of breathing Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 My Small Friends! They fill up my days, yes they do. As I begin to wake up, late at night, and lie there in the dark, thinking about how all my stupidity will be brought to nought by death, it eases those dark hours to think about my silly Small Friends. When I come to visit them, they shout: "Grandma Steve!" Smaller Nora shouts to her Dad, who's just come in from the back steps, "Daddy, Grandma Steve is here!" Like I'd been gone for a month, or longer. Her poor, long-suffering father is probably thinking, 'What, again? He was just here a few nights ago...' I eat their food, I drink their wine, I play with their children. I baby-sit, too, which is probably of some use. But I cannot tell you how that howl of childish voices, greeting my arrival, fills me with humble delight. There is no place on this planet, for many years, where my arrival has been greeted with such jubilation. Smaller Nora runs up to me, and demands: 'Pick me up, Grandma Steve'. And I always do. And then she looks at me, with wide-eyes, and says 'Are you here to baby-sit us, Grandma Steve?!' And usually, I tell her 'No, Nora. I'm here to play with you, and talk to Mommy and Daddy.' And then she shouts: 'We're having pizza!' Because when Grandma Steve comes to baby-sit, we always get cheese pizza. And her excitement is a bit hard to grasp because when I do come to baby-sit, and we have pizza, I have the devil's own time getting her to eat her bloody pizza. She's at that age when dinner isn't all that interesting. She's the tough one. You can get Small Emma to eat her pizza, because she know's you need to eat dinner. And if you don't, you don't get dessert. But when you tell Nora: 'If you don't eat dinner, you don't get dessert', her response is 'Okay, I don't want dessert'. The younger child is always the tough one. She needs to be cajoled into eating dinner. You need to sit there, and actually trick her into eating enough to keep her small, crazy body fed. You need to tell her: Nora, you have to eat 4 more bites (this involves dragging her back to the table several times to get her to listen). And then, she's holds up her fingers, sorting them out one by one, until she gets the number '4' displayed. Her sister, Small Emma, helps her. Have you ever shared a moment with a 6 year old where you both roll your eyes because the 3 1/2 year old isn't behaving? The best part is, she doesn't yet understand what 'four' means. So, you can count it anyway you like, and sometimes get her to eat more like 'eight' bites, with her attempting to count down with her fingers, without realizing what the numbers mean. Of course, it's harder when her older sister is paying attention, because that little bugger knows how to count. So, when you tell her younger sister that she's only had 'two' bites, the older one is likely to chime in with 'No, Grandma Steve, she's already had three bites, although they weren't very good bites'. I never knew that when I went to college that I'd be spending my declining years arguing 'math', 'portions' and such philosophical concepts as 'enough' with small children. It's especially nasty when they gang up on me, and start winning the argument. As Emma said to me the other day: 'Grandma Steve, you're almost like a grown-up'. That's as close as I get. I'm 'almost' like an adult. But, in recompense, I'm treated 'almost' like a child. I get to play with the silly two-some as if I was one of them. I get to behave like a complete goofball; roaring like a monster, cackling like a witch, and behaving like an utter idjit. It's marvelously... freeing. But, when push comes to shove, I can stop anything bad, and interpose some rules. I can make people behave, if necessary. As an adult, I rarely get either opportunity. So, I will treasure these days. When their Mom yells at them for being too rowdy, or being too rough, I can gather them in, and tell them 'It's okay. We're just playing'. Or when they break something, I can explain it away, and try and justify it. I'm like an ombudsman for small children. Which I guess is what being a 'grandparent' is all about. Of course, I take my own lumps doing so. They're getting quite strong, the little buggers. They think it's funny to 'stomp on Grandma Steve's feet, to make him yell 'ow, stop that!''. And Small Emma likes to climb up on your shoulders while you're sitting down, and neck/spinal injures are a real possibility. And, believe me, when Smaller Nora decides to give you a 'super girl' punch, it comes at exactly the wrong height, and leaves you eyes watering on the couch, trying not to throw-up and gasping 'NO! We don't DO that!' And there's the other lumps, too. Because if you're a REAL grandparent, you're the mother or father of one of the parents. And that gives you the leverage you don't have as 'Grandma Steve'. Grandma Steve is just this idiot friend that comes over and plays with your kids, and baby-sits them, and loves them immensely. But he's not someone you have to answer to, as a grown-up. So, in that way, I'm rather like my Small Friends. We both have to answer to their folks. I'm just the big one. So, you get yelled at, same as them. You live with the knowledge that you answer to a higher authority. And you can only make so many excuses for them, even when you're excusing their behavior towards yourself. Mind you, when you're sitting on the couch trying to re-swallow your dinner, you don't mind Mom chiming in with "Nora, NO! You do NOT punch Grandma Steve there! I don't care if you ARE playing 'Hercules', and he was the hydra!" It's a pretty good time, all things considered. I remember baby-sitting a couple of weeks ago, and Jen, their Mom, came home and said: "Ten years ago, did you ever think you'd be sitting here, obsessively telling me about every small moment you'd spent with our kids? Every thing they said and did, and what you thought about it?" And I told her: "Ten years ago you told me you two would never have children. You liked your life too much, you didn't want to bring kids into this world, you enjoyed being a double-income couple with no kids. And now you have two children, and you're great parents. And I am Grandma Steve. It is Destiny." It is Destiny. I am Grandma Steve. I have two Small Friends who make me feel... less useless. And I — I'm the big one. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dalem Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 I am the only true versifier left in this place. Seanachai is a babbling mushroom-headed Puffinstuffed babysitter. I am pure. I am sure. I am verse. I am the cure. Metal metal metal metal. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 I am the only true versifier left in this place. Seanachai is a babbling mushroom-headed Puffinstuffed babysitter. I am pure. I am sure. I am verse. I am the cure. Metal metal metal metal. On Sunday, I'm going to Taze you... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Patch Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 Besides the Gnome being attacked by an alligator gar or horseshoe crab..... I think the most likely thing would be a water spider. When I was paddling the cypress swamp in southern Illinois, the thing that I had to contend with most of the time was trying to keep all of the spiders that would walk on top of the water from climbing into my kayak. Lucky for me most of them were very small. At one point I saw a large sized spider heading quickly for my kayak and I quickly paddled away as fast as I could! Eeek! So I think most likely he will be fighting off lots of spiders! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Patch Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 I am Grandma Steve. It is Destiny. Thanks for the Small Friends story Grandma Steve. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Joe Shaw Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 Bugged, I specifically asked that all bets be placed in the form of small, unmarked bills (US) with non sequential serial numbers. Checks have ... uh ... paperwork involved. Berli you're quite right, dalem is forbidden to versify in any way, shape or form ... we had to add that last bit because frankly we suspect he's a shapeshifter. Nothing glamourous like a wolf of course, maybe a pissed off, mange ridden cat or something. Joe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 Or a tropical strength case of jock itch. That's the kind where everything turns purple then a nasty shade of green and then falls off, right? Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 What the hell have YOU done, in all these last years, worthy of betting on?! Passing a kidney stone? Actually, I've done that several times in the last 20 years. It's always a...ah...memorable experience. I'm going SOUTH... That's because you're an idiot. If you had any brains you'd stop somewhere between the latitudes of Richmond and Atlanta and certainly no further south than New Orleans. ...you're only hanging on to see if I die before you! Which is about as exciting as finding out what color my poo was this morning. Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 I'm betting his kayak will hit a submerged pointy stick and after it sinks (The kayak, that is) he will be kidnapped by wild beavers (The animals, not the... er... well, you know) who will attempt to assimilate him into their culture, but then after realizing he not only lacks the over-sized dentition but also the large flat tail (But to be fair, for a time he's able to compensate by slapping things with his large flat head) they recognize that the whole concept was an idea woefully... well, not ahead if it's time, assuredly... just... bad, I guess, and they release him back into the wilds of civilization, where upon emerging from the thick undergrowth, he's immediately shot by a park ranger and his carcass (Seanachai's, not the park ranger) is sent to The Smithonian to be studied as some sort of smaller, less hirsute and far less advanced cousin of Sasquatch. And they all lived happily ever after. THE END. What do I win? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
rune Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 May I be the first to wish you all a Happy battle of New Orleans Day. Here is to Joebob playing the part of the alligator in the song... Tell us Emrys, how was it hiding behind the bales of cotton? Seanachai, sing us the song... rather hear you slur then Joebob sing again.. Rune Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yeknodathon Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 [.. lobbing trussed up chickens at a rubber a gnome tied to a drifting raft on the Paddock pond...] Of course, one mustn't underestimate the threat posed by airborne fowl... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bugged Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 At the end of January, I am going to southern Florida, ... You know, if you were anybody else I would warn against the possibilities of a break-in seeing as how you've been known to give out your address rather easily. But I think we all know that the joke would be on any would-be robber who dared enter your abode. I pity those in charge of emptying and cleaning your apartment in the unfortunate event that you DO die while on this upcoming trip. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bugged Posted January 8, 2010 Share Posted January 8, 2010 Of course, one mustn't underestimate the threat posed by airborne fowl... Indeed. In the words of Arthur Carlson, "As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 Indeed. In the words of Arthur Carlson, "As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!" "Oh, my God, they're hitting the ground like sacks of wet cement!" Indeed, a funny, funny episode. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 Tell us Emrys, how was it hiding behind the bales of cotton? Lovely. There was this very obliging Creole lady you see, who loaded my spare musket while I shot at the Limeys, and after the battle...but I must say no more. Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 I pity those in charge of emptying and cleaning your apartment in the unfortunate event that you DO die while on this upcoming trip. Probably the Health Department will insist on simply splashing kerosene all around and tossing in a match. Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 I heard the Hazmat team that handles cleaning up meth labs is holding out for way more money. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dalem Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 I get his books! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yeknodathon Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 Boo Radley Hazmat Team Colouring Book? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Patch Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 I get his books! I get his jackalope! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
OGSF Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 Noba, Boo, Costard (spailt, noo bolded).... wha's ma feckin' turrrn ye collection o' puddin' smeared string-bag stains? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Joe Shaw Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 Noba, Boo, Costard (spailt, noo bolded).... wha's ma feckin' turrrn ye collection o' puddin' smeared string-bag stains? I'll second that OGSF ... well Noba, Boo and Costard (spelt but not bolded) where is ... uh ... whatever it is he's looking for eh? Joe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted January 9, 2010 Share Posted January 9, 2010 Noba, Boo, Costard (spailt, noo bolded).... wha's ma feckin' turrrn ye collection o' puddin' smeared string-bag stains? I've been waiting for a turn from you, Skeezix. I swear, you're about as worthless as a meringue life jacket. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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