Yeknodathon

[... and with a little belly ripple the thistle flux surges forth into a violent rush of regurgitated vegetable matter] *burp* More tea, vicar?

... freakin' SEVEN-ELEVEN...

[swallows hard to hold back a fresh bout of thistle flux] ... one really can't be too Parochial...

... certain familiarity with anthrax? *snort*

... oh gawd, a token Tolkein.

One of the exquisite tortures of Parochial school. The only one, come to think of it... </font>

I'm not obsessive about Boo as some suggest. Me collection of, photos, hair and nail clippings are arranged with great care in me stall and is a perfectly natural and healthy hobby.

[... and as dawn dwindles into the overcast gloom of existence and the frightened garrot duck of fate frantically flies from the hovering carrot of destiny scuffling is heard from behind the shed as if a ligature is being slowly tightened around the thick end of a carrot]

*snort* [looks at garrot, then at carrot back to garrote, then again at garrot] *snort* [thinks a bit] [looks at carrot] *snort* [stares wildly at garrot and carrot] [fixes Boo with one eye while gazing at garrot, carrot and garotte] [discards carrot but doubles garrot] [adds another garrot for good measure] *snort* [dressage canter to back of shed for experimentation]

I just wanted to know whether he gets a red, pointy mitre and cassock?

*donkey gnaws a wooden fence*

Further Reflections on Boo, Yeknod Radley Sadly [ March 29, 2005, 01:47 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

Further Reflections on Celery, Yeknod Celery Is smellery

Further Reflections on Parsley, Ogden Nash Parsley Is gharsley.

The Ostrich, Ogden Nash The ostrich roams the great Sahara. Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra. It has such long and lofty legs, I'm glad it sits to lay its eggs.

He's just started.

Existence. *sniff* do yer not feel despair hatching out into small clumps of gathered consciousness? Now, that is not to say that Dorosh is in any way a despairing, gathered clump of consciousness or that Seany-babe has a discrete horn tucked under his pointy hat (indicating an unusual variation on the unicorn). [swings a tail to remember something very important] No. [... and again] The point is we "is" before anything else. Quite simple really when one has four legs and an immeasurable length of time to focus on one's immediate surroundings. Which isn't much. Not a lot at all. And rather restricting. Hum-de-hum... is it Spring time yet?

So Rune, given that the euthanasia age was 30+, you'll be volunteering first? Mace </font>

I suppose he means Harvey Keitel? [ponders with a little twitch of the tale] ... he's the one who got naked at the piano? [ponders some more...] ... and you wouldn't want to be learning the piano? [twitches again...] A Francophile Anglo-German polyglot, undressed and wanting to learn the piano *sniff* YER NOT GOING TO AUSTRALIA. YER NOT SINGING SCHUBERT NAKKID.

... long beards?

We've got more chaos than yer can swing yer Tiamat Mesopotamian goddess in a confined space. *sniff* I think I want to spawn a bit.

[waving a frantic hoof] Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why, then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?--Yet who would have thought the old twit to have had so much wart in him.

[... carefully lifting each hoof for another search...] They seek him here, They seek him there, Those donkies seek him everywhere. Is he in heaven? Or is he in hell? That damned elusive Pimplenel! [... ponders a smallish blemish for a moment] *sniff* .... all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hoof. Oh, oh, oh!

[carefully checks each hoof for stray verrucas]

I suppose yer the sort that shouts at the earpiece?