Peng Challenges the Abominable Snowman

Michael Emrys · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Jim Boggs:
What am I doing up so late?

Whaddaya mean "late"? It's only 10:10. the night is young! It's spring! Romance is in the air! It is time for falling in love and dancing the night away!

You soulless bugger.

Michael

Kitty · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:
But Kitty, where do you stand on the Auto de fe for The Abomination rune? Remember that we'll likely NEED a winsome leather clad lass to read the verdict and pose by the stake while the wood is being soaked with oil.

You've lost me. Who's rune?

Kitty

Kitty · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:
But Kitty, where do you stand on the Auto de fe for The Abomination rune? Remember that we'll likely NEED a winsome leather clad lass to read the verdict and pose by the stake while the wood is being soaked with oil.

You've lost me. Who's rune?

Kitty

Noba · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Boo Radley:
<blockquote>quote:<hr />Originally posted by Noba:
<blockquote>quote:<hr />Originally posted by Jim Boggs:
Dear Noba

I am in receipt of your proposed match, the title of which is "Tigers and Two Pounders".

I see that you have most graciously taken the Germans and the burden of maneuvering those gigantic clankety beasts across the mapboard.

While I, on the other hand, only have to worry about some tiny peashooters and how best to keep them hidden for thirty turns or so.

"Some" might think that one side may have a slight advantage over the other. "Some" might say that only a fool would play such a one-sided scenario. "Some" might even accuse one of the party's of subterfuge and being of a devious nature.

I laugh at "Some". As the steel beasts rumble away from my forward position, I laugh. As the huge 88mm guns begin to rain fiery sheets of death and destruction completely off the map, I laugh.

Then I see, sitting comfortably in his Mercedes Staff car, with the built in bar, the commander of this awe inspiring force. Bellowing orders, pointing frantically, and drinking heavily.

Yes, it's Noba!

Then I really start laughing.

Ok Boggo, you may be laughing now, but halfway through this, you will be squirming as the Tigers grind their tracks over your foxholes, all the time crying "please mummy, make the BiG UbEr TanKs STop".

Since this is my third try as Germans on this one, I will wipe the dusty floor with your peashooters. We shall then ship them back to Germany and melt them down to become REAL atgs...

Your poor, terrorised British troops will soon be supping on erzatz coffee, and worse, erzatz black bread in the POW cages. Gratefull, I may add, to be captured by my nice German troops and not those Nasty Italians ! (They only serve left-over pasta in their camps)

Noba.

Noba · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Boo Radley:
<blockquote>quote:<hr />Originally posted by Noba:
<blockquote>quote:<hr />Originally posted by Jim Boggs:
Dear Noba

I am in receipt of your proposed match, the title of which is "Tigers and Two Pounders".

I see that you have most graciously taken the Germans and the burden of maneuvering those gigantic clankety beasts across the mapboard.

While I, on the other hand, only have to worry about some tiny peashooters and how best to keep them hidden for thirty turns or so.

"Some" might think that one side may have a slight advantage over the other. "Some" might say that only a fool would play such a one-sided scenario. "Some" might even accuse one of the party's of subterfuge and being of a devious nature.

I laugh at "Some". As the steel beasts rumble away from my forward position, I laugh. As the huge 88mm guns begin to rain fiery sheets of death and destruction completely off the map, I laugh.

Then I see, sitting comfortably in his Mercedes Staff car, with the built in bar, the commander of this awe inspiring force. Bellowing orders, pointing frantically, and drinking heavily.

Yes, it's Noba!

Then I really start laughing.

Ok Boggo, you may be laughing now, but halfway through this, you will be squirming as the Tigers grind their tracks over your foxholes, all the time crying "please mummy, make the BiG UbEr TanKs STop".

Since this is my third try as Germans on this one, I will wipe the dusty floor with your peashooters. We shall then ship them back to Germany and melt them down to become REAL atgs...

Your poor, terrorised British troops will soon be supping on erzatz coffee, and worse, erzatz black bread in the POW cages. Gratefull, I may add, to be captured by my nice German troops and not those Nasty Italians ! (They only serve left-over pasta in their camps)

Noba.

Mace · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Noba:
You must embrace apoptosis. It's for the best, you know it... and it won't take long. Two brain cells. Almost instantaneous.

Two?

Well Boo's out then, because if he had a brain cell it'd be lonely.

KING MACE

Mace · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Noba:
You must embrace apoptosis. It's for the best, you know it... and it won't take long. Two brain cells. Almost instantaneous.

Two?

Well Boo's out then, because if he had a brain cell it'd be lonely.

KING MACE

Kitty · April 25, 2004

Seriously though, who's this rune person?

Kitty

Kitty · April 25, 2004

Seriously though, who's this rune person?

Kitty

Noba · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Kitty:
Seriously though, who's this rune person?

Kitty

Either :

A vile, obnoxious, scenario designer.

Or :

Someone of no importance.

Noba.

Noba · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Kitty:
Seriously though, who's this rune person?

Kitty

Either :

A vile, obnoxious, scenario designer.

Or :

Someone of no importance.

Noba.

Kitty · April 25, 2004

The latter, no doubt.

Kitty

Kitty · April 25, 2004

The latter, no doubt.

Kitty

Noba · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Kitty:
The latter, no doubt.

Kitty

Absolutely... !!

Noba.

Noba · April 25, 2004

Originally posted by Kitty:
The latter, no doubt.

Kitty

Absolutely... !!

Noba.

Kitty · April 25, 2004

Now I can sleep well. =)

Kitty

Kitty · April 25, 2004

Now I can sleep well. =)

Kitty

**YK2** · April 25, 2004

Ah well... that just answered all my questions!

**YK2** · April 25, 2004

Ah well... that just answered all my questions!

Seanachai · April 25, 2004

Such a lovely outpouring of support. I was moved, seriously, I was.

Of course, I backed out and re-entered to make sure which fecking thread I was in. I mean, I might have been so bagged that I was originally posting in the 'Super Death Monkey Anime Hugs and Support' thread on the GF. After all, ****e happens.

But it was, in fact, my own dear Cesspool. Remember Minnesota Joe, from the scrofulous community of Mankato, who bequeathed to us our title? I hope wherever he is right now, he's drunk as a lord, and not in jail.

You're a great bunch of human beings. Probably the finest people on this planet, which means that the Apocalypso is long overdue.

Lately, whenever I feel blue, or down, or just the least bit despondent, I ask myself: WWBD?

Or, in other words, 'What Would Berlichtigen Do?"

The answer humbled me. Because, whereas one would normally think that it would be 'Rage Against and Defy God While Standing On the Least Flaming Bit of Hell', or 'Reap Souls Like the Harvester of Doom While Damning Humanity', it turns out to be 'Send the Gnome a Really Good Pot a Feu Recipe While Complaining That You're Simply Not in the Position To Kick Him in the Fork Often Enough'.

I don't know why, but I took great comfort in that.

My sister and I had a good day, yesterday. Or rather, I had a really good day seeing my sister. Her day sucked. We went to the Olive Garden for lunch before her T-cell shot. Personally, I don't care for the Olive Garden that much, as most of their entrees seem like pressed board pasta covered with a red sauce that should have been laid to rest in an anonymous grave.

But she wanted to go there because she wanted their spaghetti, and believe me, there's not that many places to go in Burnsville, Minnesota, for spaghetti that isn't complete ****e. She told me 'Most of the time, lately, I'm less into the way food tastes than I am it's consistency'. I remember (from the last time she had Chemo-therapy), that she told me that some tastes and smells made her immediately sick. I was intrigued by the realization that the 'consistency' of food was playing a factor, until it occurred to me that what she was concerned about was how less annoying it might be when it came back up.

We finished lunch. My Cannelloni was rather blah, as I expected it to be, but the Zuppa Toscana that began the meal was first rate. The 'breadstick' dinner roll I allowed myself was like eating a wonderfully buttered sponge. My sister paid the bill, as she always does (because she's a hard working, driven, and family loving over-achiever, and I'm her brother, the guy you already know). And then she became a bit quiet, asked me to watch her purse, and went into the ladies room and ralphed up her entire lunch.

We discussed how good my soup was while I drove her to get her shot. Oh, and we listened to Chris Smither's new album "Train Home". It's a damn good album. Gotta love the song 'Lola'

Lookin' for my Lola

what if I'd a told ya

She don't even know

She hurts me so

She says, I don't hate ya',

It aint' that big a deal

You know, you don't even figure in the way I feel

We laughed about the song, and I walked her up to the 'Treatment' clinic.

This is a very odd place. You walk into the (linoleum floored) 'treatment' area, and you're confronted with a a wonderful panorama of large windows that let in a huge amount of filtered sunlight. After a minute of thought, you realize it's filtered because bright, 'direct' sunlight is probably a bit harsh for people undergoing induced nausea through selective poisoning.

Along the long wall and the 'L' of the shorter wall, there are a series of Pepto-Bismal colored chairs that are a cross between a barca-lounger and some sort of hospital fixture. It looks like a kind of beautician shop for the seriously ill.

But everyone is very nice. Everything is very...normal. There are a couple of other people sitting, when we came in, reading magazines, with an IV stand next to them and a tube running into their chest.

And my sis is only there for a quick shot to boost her severely depressed immune system, but they talk to her, and they realize that she hasn't kept anything down for the last two days, and that she's dehydrated, so they hook her up with a glucose bag and a bag of stronger anti-nauseant than she can take orally (and believe me, she has them all).

So we spend two hours playing Monopoly on her PDA, passing the damn thing back and forth to take turns, with her patiently explaining to me how I can do this, or that, while a bag of fluid slowly drips into the installed port in her chest. You know, you don't know how much you admire a person's sang-froid until you see a Nurse swab their upper chest with like half a dozen wipes before running a needle into it to give them the medical equivalent of a burger.

And she's slaughtering me. I mean, she's kicking my arse up one side and down the other, and I'm seriously hating Monopoly. And we're talking about how she doesn't want to go on with the Chemo anymore, because she just can't take it anymore. But how my Brother-in-law, her husband, that wee Brit bastard, is way clever, and he's telling her "Honey, just do two more sessions, until they do the scan to see if the cancer is receding. If it's not, then you can give it up." And my sister is telling me how proud she is of her husband for being that sly.

And I wonder, hell, how can I be clever enough to encourage my sister to suffer enough for the chance to live?

And I realize, I don't know how to be that amusing. Or positive. Or spiritual. Or whatever it takes. But that I think she'll hang in another few treatments.

I'd like to be a lot more amusing, or reassuring, or whatever. I mean, I know that she knows I love her, but...hell. My pride says that I should be so fecking amazingly amusing that she should continue to cling to life through another load of pain just to see how I might amuse her in the weeks to come...

Man, that's hubris. It's my only real talent. That's my contribution to keeping her trying, of course. My sister's known me all her damn life. She knows that I'm a fecking clown, and she knows how important she is to me, and that I can't stand an audience checking out on me.

I'm working on using my sense of humour into guilting her into continuing to try to stay alive.

So, about 15 minutes before her IV runs out, her PDA flashes me the message 'Low Battery'. So I tell her, Kat, sorry, but you've got a low battery warning here. And she says, 'Damn, that's the end of the game'. And as she puts her PDA away, she smiles at me and tells me, 'Brother mine, when I finish playing this game for you, you are going to lose, and you're going to lose horribly.'

And I realized that the Peng Challenge Thread was a part of everything that's ever made me who I am. And that who I am is what I've brought to the Peng Challenge Thread. And that my sis is a Peng Challenger.

You're a fine lot of useless bums. Now piss off, a bit.

Seanachai · April 25, 2004