Here's a PENNY NOW GO AWAY... A PANTIELESS PENG CHALLENGE THREAD.?

[jshandorf]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Terence:

Afraid are you?

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Being afraid has the prerequisite of there being something to be afraid of I'm afraid. Since you are about as scary as a paper tiger, and about as thick, your use of the word is looser then a Baptist cheerleader.

I therefore challenge you again, hog-mounter. Same conditions as before. If you're as good as you brag, you'll dispatch me in moments.

Hog-mounter? What swamp infested, bucktooth, jean-shorts, Appalachian mountain, inbreed farm did you grow up on where they take to calling each other, hog-mounters of all things?

I say you're a prancing, posturing bag of wind, covering for serious inadequacies with this arrogant nonsense.

That insult is weaker than a eunuch's johnson.

If you really can't manage another PBEM, name one of your toadies or sycophants and Ill happily play them.

Between you and me, I like to think of all the hooligans here as my "toadies or sycophants". I helps me with a raving case of megalomania.

Jeff

[Lars]

Mouse,

I see you have done the wrong thing, and accepted.

I do not care who else you are playing. I do not care if your wife is mad at you. I do not care if you have no friends. I do not want to be your friend. Moreover, and here is the important thing, nobody else does either.

From the large number of people not sending you turns, I can see why you are having trouble keeping up. Rest assured that I will return your files promptly, if only so I can laugh at your tactical ineptitude.

I intend to stuff you in a toilet paper tube labeled “Party Favor”, tape the ends shut, and leave you with the afterdinner mints at the Gay 90’s.

The setup will be in your mailbox this evening.

P.S.

You should go do the reading your kaniggit suggested. He is trying to teach you to write with verve, feeling, and wit. None of which was evident in your post. Try putting your mind into motion before putting your mouth into gear. We will work on your spelling abilities later.

[Terence]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by jshandorf:

[qb]

I therefore challenge you again, hog-mounter. Same conditions as before. If you're as good as you brag, you'll dispatch me in moments.

Hog-mounter? What swamp infested, bucktooth, jean-shorts, Appalachian mountain, inbreed farm did you grow up on where they take to calling each other, hog-mounters of all things?

[/QB]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

I thunk it up, speshul for you and the Pool.

I invite you to send the setup. At your request, Ill send YOU a setup.

Are we playing or not, megalomaniac?

[jshandorf]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Terence:

Are we playing or not, megalomaniac?

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

No

[**YK2**]

*Sets the Scene*

YK2 is hunting through all the cupboards and drawers throwing everything she comes across up in the air, causing the cobwebs to break and release the hoards of spiders which until now were sleeping soundly.

"Where are those bloody things" I swear I saw them just the other day while shining PAW'S armour, I remember thinking how rusty they were .....

Just as she's about to give up YK2 opens the last drawer and smiles...... Ahhhh just what I was looking for....... she picks up the box of rusty old metal and walks over to the fridge.

"Now let me see, I need something tempting"... YK2 removes the dozens of bottled lager from the fridge, and right at the back finds a large chunk of offensive looking cheese "YUK the smell is worse than that last pair of socks PENG left lying beside the pool" This should do just nicely she says smiling smuggly to herself

YK2 looks gingerly into the dirty old box and removes six rusty MOUSE TRAPS

now if this doesn't work I swear I will not only wear my PANTIES on my head, but I will ask PAW to take a pic to prove I did so.

Here MOUSEY MOUSEY come to YK2 I have a pic for you.........

BTW.. Welcome back Joe Shaw ......

[ 06-20-2001: Message edited by: YK2 ]

[Terence]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by jshandorf:

No<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Tease.

[jshandorf]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by YK2:

BTW.. Welcome back Joe Shaw......

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Yes... hear hear... We have kept your filthy little spot dirty and well worn while you were out.

I still say you left because you had to mentally recover from my victory against you. My out-matched, out-numbered brave little digital Amis fought without equal. I could only excpect your mental breakdown at the loss you suffered at my hands.

Jeff

[ 06-20-2001: Message edited by: jshandorf ]

[Speedbump]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Panzer Leader:

I like to keep the number of games below 10, but I am now up over 20 and i is starting to piss my wife off, so for now, THIS IS IT!!

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

The fact that you play one at all pisses off all of us!

Speedbump

[**YK2**]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Terence:

[QB]Behold.

I stand among you.

That snuffling and high pitched whimpering from the floor indicates I may be standing on one of you, but no matter.

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Ohhh Look a SSN just trampled on MOUSE best leave the traps down anyway he's a persistant little git....

BTW TERENCE if you have any sense then I suggest you go back to lurking,Then again, if you had any sense then you wouldn't have set foot in here in the first place........

Be AFRAID......... Be VERY AFRAID .............

Oh well it worked on William Hague.......

[Geier]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Panzer Leader:

Oh gosh, I only read stuff wiv picshures in em. My wife wears black and has an ankh necklace. She tole me de book was no good. I dare not read it now.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> If you're in the chronicles the phrase "No one has to stay anywhere forever" might ring a bell?

You, on the other hand, need not stay here at all.

[Iskander]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by YK2:

... removes the dozens of bottled lager from the fridge...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

AHHHH!!!

Iskander rushes to fridge and puts beer back in, muttering darkly about women and heresy....

[Panzer Leader]

The man stands alone, naked but for a cloth of lion's skin covering his loins. His skin is bronzed by the red sun, the sun which even at its zenith in the violet sky will burn through the thin air to blister the flesh and scorch the earth.

In his hand, raised in mockery to the heavens is a gleaming spear, wrought in the ancient way. Silvery cuneiform runes wind their way up the oaken staff to the bronze head. The head drips in blood, red as the sun.

He stands, defiant, upon an altar of stone as the throngs crowd beneath his feet. Some of them weild spears too, others weild the brutal bone clubs so popular in these times of dacay. All the people look upon him with fear and loathing. He is the stranger.

With a glance back to the baked earth and its baked denizens, he arches his back and with a mighty thrust, his spear flashes upwards, as if to pinion the sun itself. His eyes, black, scan his audience. As his gaze passes over man and beast, each of them feels singularly and momentarily inadequate to the task set before them.

This is no man, but a champion. Who are we to seek his payment in blood? Was it not for us he came? Was it not our homes he defended against the corruption of the outer lands? Questions and confusion flash across each face in turn, but with a reassuring glance to the man-beast standing nearest, the feral look of hunger returns.

The spear is lowered. With a last flash of brilliance, the bronze head falls into the smoky dark of its owner's shadow. At last, as the throng begins to surge he speaks.

At once, like the waves breaking on the mythic southern sea, the crowd recedes, each face straining against the almost painfully visible rays of the red sun, as it stares upwards at the figure, the champion. Cheeks, sunken with hunger, stricken with childhood disease, burned by a relentless sun, scoured by countless sand storms, strain upwards.

"I come to you in war. Your people were left, abandoned in the great debacle of history to fend for yourselves. See now what you have become that you may take back the glory you lost so long ago!" the spear, now held lazily in hand, point scratching in the stone that has been scratched by aeons of warriors just like him as they begged for their lives.

But this warrior was different. He was a champion. Some might call him the eternal champion but to himself, he was known simply as Panzer Leader. The woman he loved, who bore his spawn in her proudly rounded belly, lay curled in the sand nearby, weeping for the loss of her one true love.

A figure musters the strength to step forward. It is an aged man, stooped by the heavy hand of the crimson sky, eyes wrinkled and strained by the years of peering through the indigo sky. He hobbles on a cane, a bone cane, but it too is wrought with runes of ancient glory, wrought by the man's own hand in an attempt to understand.

He raises his cane to the champion and with a backwards glance to the throng, speaks in his laborious, grating voice. It is of gravel and sand that he speaks. Of mountains brought down by the might of the sky, of rivers run dry, their life blood sucked out as they fled screaming ot the south. He spoke of ancient days, of glory and might, of despair and death.

At first, the bronzed man listened but soon his patience began to flag. "If I am to flayed, then do so now, Seanachai. You were good to me once, when we were both young, but look how times have changed. A war has come, battles have been fought. Your sons bones lie etched in the sand dunes of the Blighted lands, but still, after all this, you seek your sustenence in the crumbling words of ancestors long since passed."

With sadnees, the sage, the fakir, the shaman, the Historian recedes into the background. Blackened hands, bone-thin shoulders push him back into the fleshy depths of the throng. Another, younger but no less stooped figure steps forward. he wields one of the crude bone clubs...

[Geier]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Seanachai:

Geier does not like you. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>And here I thought I was going about this real subtle-like. <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>

Mouse, you shall read the novel "Neverwhere’.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> He can't. His wife said it sucked and told him to stick to comics. Why on earth you want to waste perfectly good literature on a completely witless halfwitted unwitting git without wit is beyond me. Can you even begin to imagine the horror of trying to read what mouse thought of ... anything he has managed to mouth his way through?

Books must be protected from the nasties that want to read them. Ask the librarian if you don't believe me.

[**YK2**]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Panzer Leader:

so, THIS IS IT!!

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Don't forget to close the door on the way OUT.........

[MrSpkr]

***The Four approach the Charnel House. An ancient rusty gate hangs on one hinge. Lightning backlights the building as the torrential rain comes down.

Squeezing inside, the four make their way to a dusty, ancient mausoleum. The carvings on the side have faded almost to oblivion. A pair of ornate iron candleholders bracket the sepulcher.***

Voice3: "This is the wrong place. Noone's been in here for years."

***Reaching up, the Leader reached up and grasped the right candleholder, twisting it clockwise ½ turn.

A low groan pulsed through the ground as the wall behind the sarcophagi slowly swung open, revealing a long curving staircase lined with flickering torches. He glanced at the his comrade.***

Voice1: "You were saying?"

Voice2: "Alright, enough of that. Let's get on with it."

***The Four descend the staircase rapidly. After an interminable descent, the stairs spill out into a small room. The walls extend up into the darkness. About half of the wall appears to be carved from a single block of marble, its seamless smooth face streaking up into the shadows. The rest of the wall appears to be covered in small pock marks. A closer inspection of the walls reveals the pocks to in fact resemble tiny faces, many of which appear to be in agony. New faces appear at random intervals as the Four watch on.

A dust covered wooden desk and cupboard lean against the right wall, while the center of the room is dominated by an elaborately designed wooden coffin on a stone block.

The coffin is quite immense. Visages of various imps and demons line its sides. The lid is smooth, and polished to a high shine. Four symbols adorn the lid - ßΣ∞Ω.***

Voice1: (whispering) "Keep an eye out, guys. This will just take a second."

Voice4: (whispering) "Good. This place gives me the creeps."

Voice1: (whispering) "Don't worry. He was talking with my liege earlier. That will put ANYONE to sleep - even HIM."

Voice2: "I hope you're right."

***The Leader approaches the coffin and, after some difficulty, pries open the lid. An empty silk pillow lying atop a layer of dirt comes into view.***

Voice1: "Uh oh."

Voice3: "What is it?"

Voice1: "He's gone!"

Voice2: "Is it there? Just grab it so we can get out of here!"

Voice1: "I see it!"

***The Leader reaches in to the coffin and pulls out a long, thin piece of obsidian and stuffs it into his backpack.

From the stairway, a dark figure slowly sneaks up behind the group, who remain oblivious to his presence. The smell of sulphur wafts into the room.***

Voice1: "Oh no. . ."

Deep voice: "Oh yes."

***The startled quartet spin around to see Berli looming before them.***

Berli: "Going so soon? Now, I can't have that. It would be, impolite, don't you think?"

to be continued

[ 06-20-2001: Message edited by: MrSpkr ]

[Agua Perdido]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Lars:

[whack-a-Mouse]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Not bad for a scumsuckingnewbie, a status beyond which Mouse has never really advanced--except as Pawbroon's horribly-misguided joke on the rest of the 'Pool, and as part of Seanachai's equally-misguided Cesspool Outreach.

Thus, though you've singled out someone specific, and piled on particularly bilious abuse, you have gamily chosen a de facto scumscukingnewbie--even if Mouse is technically a squire. Entertaining as it is to watch you ssns wrasslin' in the Cess, scrabbling around to find a scrap of rusty tin can with which to rend each other's flesh, this challenge marks you as a GAMEY, CHEATING BASTARD.

If you have really been lurking here for any length of time, you know what little use we have for your kind. Now, show us something creative, or piss off. We already have MrSpkr's little Scooby-gang to provide Mouse a blanket-party.

Agua Perdido

[dalem]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by panties:

...The woman he loved, who bore his spawn in her proudly rounded belly, lay curled in the sand nearby, weeping for the loss of her one true love...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Umm, you do know that John Norman's Gor books were a joke, right?

[Stalin's Organ]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Panzer Leader:

[QB] He is the stranger.

[QB]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Stranger than what?

[Joe Shaw]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>I still say you left because you had to mentally recover from my victory against you. My out-matched, out-numbered brave little digital Amis fought without equal. I could only excpect your mental breakdown at the loss you suffered at my hands. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, you're only digging yourself in deeper my lad. First your unseemly petitioning for the role of CessPool Champion and now this rehash of old news ... Victories are Nothing, Taunts are Everything, and you have proven ... and amply proven, that your abilities in THAT arena are sadly lacking. Mind you it could be worse, you could be PeterNZer, now that lad is pretty much limited to grunts and armpit noises ... at least I THINK they were armpit noises ... hmmmm. But I thank you for the, by your standards, effusive welcome back, it IS nice to be back in the warm embrace of my ... back the HELL off Bauhaus, sheesh.

As to the GOR books ... I think there really SHOULD be some place where scantily clad doxies are eager to uh ... please ... their lords and masters. I think we need fewer damned SSNs and more Scantily Clad Doxies.

I admit to a certain degree of ... apprehension as to the outcome of the serial by MrSpkr. Nothing good can come of it I fear but at least they limited their collection of bodily fluids to drool, it could have been a LOT worse.

Joe

[Phillies Phan]

Panzer Leader, stop accepting challenges. You don't owe them or us anything. Geier will dislike you anyway. I pleaded with the old firm ad naseum when I first splashed into the pool and I think it was four months later when they posted that they are trying to ignore me.

So, quit being an idiot and accepting challenges. A little tip for ya. Whenever somebody calls you "mouse", you reply with "I know you are, but what am I"? It worked for Pee Wee Herman.

[BilgeRat]

Aaarrgh! <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>No, no, no, Bilgerat! Pawbroon is French, and Shandorf is an Idiot. Thus, he is a citizen of the largest nation on earth.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>I thought for a second it was a squall humming through the rigging but damme if it aint the ship's purser muttering in my ear and blinking owlishly in the unaccustomed daylight. Is there some sort of quota of one on the French, if so zero would be better. It seems then another has slipped through the net. French is not just a place but a state of mind and there can be no doubting the Frenchness of Monsewer Jeffrey. Tha Poltroon is French in a sort of quasimodoish lurking obscure sort of way. Monsewer Jefferey is French in a pestilence upon the face of the earth sort of way, a cowardly prancing braggart, posturing on the quarterdeck. There is no denying the Frenchness of this fellow when the gallant Babra was swept upon the lee shore he didn't offer succour but gleefully claimed victory as the crew perished in the storm. French through and through I say. Hopefully soon he will be cut off at the knees by British chain shot.

Turning to the mousey little fellow you have taken under your wing. Let me remind you of the Kings regulations regarding such practises. Perhaps the best way to deal with Pantaloons would be if the Cap'n organised a boarding party the capture his flagship the CM2 FAQ. That would take the wind out of his sails.

Methinks the South Seas Parrot is squawking loudly and repetitively at the moment. He seems to have partaken of the same mouldy batch of hardtack that Pantaloons has been nibbling.

As for Mr Spkr his performance has improved but he is no Mr Shkspr.

[dalem]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Josie and the Shawcats:

As to the GOR books ... I think there really SHOULD be some place where scantily clad doxies are eager to uh ... please ... their lords and masters. I think we need fewer damned SSNs and more Scantily Clad Doxies.

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

I'd vote for that bit of fantasy to become reality if I didn't hate you so much, you know. You skip off into NeverNever Land and I'm supposed to remember how the hell I was killing you before you left? You & Marlowbrow are cut from the same pod - get in a bit of a fix, then play a game of Confuse the Cat on your opponent. At least OnanFurbyStinkingFezzik knows how to Die a Lot, rat bastard wannabe that he is.

[Joe Shaw]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>I'd vote for that bit of fantasy to become reality if I didn't hate you so much, you know. You skip off into NeverNever Land and I'm supposed to remember how the hell I was killing you before you left?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> That COULD be because you had essentially lost the game by turn 1.5 and are just dragging out the agony. But I hold no grudges, I am still willing to accept your surrender ... for a limited time only, one per family, all sales are final.

Joe

[dalem]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Josie and the Shawcats:

That COULD be because you had essentially lost the game by turn 1.5 and are just dragging out the agony. But I hold no grudges, I am still willing to accept your surrender ... for a limited time only, one per family, all sales are final.

Joe<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Sure thing. Step carefully over the smoldering remains of your sausage-eaters and bring the surrender terms over to my lines.

[Stalin's Organ]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

As to the GOR books ... I think there really SHOULD be some place where scantily clad doxies are eager to uh ... please ... their lords and masters. I think we need fewer damned SSNs and more Scantily Clad Doxies.

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Wouldn't SCD's be SSN's by definition?

I propose that all the old farts (who can't get it up anyway so SCD's are wasted on them!) should bugger off and leave us young, virile SSN's at the SCD's.

OK - which of you needs his bag changed now??......