Emergency CPR - Challenge-Peng Resuscitation

[imported_Hiram Sedai]

Another Monday rubs me raw. Only Berlibub could have visited such a malevolent atrocity upon me. I have begged and pleaded with the evil one time and again to show some fricken mercy upon my poor existence. My things to do have things to do. Everything is ASAP. I am being punished for having two consecutive days off. The weekend is a faint memory.

I can just imagine the confines of Berlibub’s infernal abode. He sits there with his checklist chortling to himself and puffing on his cigarette. “Monday for Hiram? Check!! Clamidia for Croda? Check! Embarrasing anal leakage for Goanna? Double Check!”

[Gates-slut]

w00t!!

This just in...

It is a glorious day in the land of sluts. For what Peng could not acheive the G-sFKaP has done and done with style, wit and panache (well maybe not, but we did it just the same. The same as what? I don't know. What are you lookin at? Shut up.).

Errrm. OH! right, Heres what happened.

The forces of the Dark One AUTOSURRENDERED yes that is correct - autosurrendered to the Army of Sluts.

The final Score was:

Berli: not much

G-sFKaP: A lot

Stuff that in yer nose and honk Evil One!

[Sledge59]

Originally posted by PULL TOY:

My problem is that there is no obvious way to tell who to challenge without simple saying "some one play me... waah."

...Whichever one of you qualifies, I hereby challenge you to a game of CM.

Shall I smudge my sword by mauling this minnow? Nah... a swift kick is easier.

Look here, kiddo; this is not the wannabe challenge thread, this is the <big>Peng Challenge Thread</big>. We have rules and standards. Follow them or SOD OFF.

[edited because it made me vomit too]

[ February 28, 2002, 12:04 PM: Message edited by: Sledge59 ]

[Agua Perdido]

Pillocks.

I don't have time for individual abuse today, although I do loath each and every one of you for each of your own unique failings (or for your hackneyed, derivative failings COUGHCrodaCOUGH). I only have time for passing

UPDATES!

I had sworn long ago that the gamey uberbastiche known as Lars would have no turn, ever! Or, perhaps only when stevethehorriblelittlerat-facedgit finally sent me a turn (a restriction perhaps more severe than "never, not ever in the lifetime of this universe"). Anyhow, Lars got a turn today. Choke on it, but don't get used to it.

stevethegameyratbastard finally ponied up the next move, wherin his ultra-gamey CentaurIVs (who picks friggin' CentaurIVs?!) are driving around in the middle of his own artillery barrage. This game is more a showcase of Abstract Expressionism than of tactics.

I've been so shocked by the lower-casedrodent's sudden return to CM, that I accidentally responded to jdmorse, as well. Again, this will not be a regular occurence.

Nothing has happened in the game with Seanachai, as I am holding the turn hostage for at least another three updates wherein nothing shall also happen.

I'm also not playing Joe Shaw, even though his brave two-squad rush is being mauled by one of my ear-and-stomach platoons who've fashioned a slingshot out of their colostomy bags and are flinging their hearing aids with it.

Bah.

Agua Perdido

[Edited to add a third spelling of "wear-in."]

[ February 25, 2002, 02:00 PM: Message edited by: Agua Perdido ]

[Sledge59]

Yeknodathon mumbled:

What a fine idea, I don't think I'll be sending turns to BodgedInBehind either. He's also miserable. His miserable advance is... well, pathetic.

Idjit Yeknod

Dear Yeknodathon,

I seem to have misjudged you. Donkeys are reputed to be intelligent by four-legged standards. What went wrong in your case?

Our game is a Meeting Engagement. If you want any chance at a win, you must at least attempt to capture the flags. Instead you have been skulking about for over a dozen turns near your setup area. Since you refuse to come out and fight, my gamey paras are more than willing to take the fight to your location. You have these choices:

59- Fight the good fight.

Yek- Skulk around like you have been doing.

noda- Withdraw all your forces off-map.

thon- Surrender.

Appendectomy- Failure to return files is not an option.

Have a wonderful day,

Sledge

[imported_Hiram Sedai]

Croda – The Prepubescent Years

Today was his day to be tough. Croda had his favorite matchbox car wrapped up in his left shirt sleeve to simulate a box of cigarettes and he put a roll of pennies in his pocket in case of an emergency. He sat in his 6th grade homeroom wishing he were somewhere else. The kids surrounding his desk ignored him and he preferred it that way. That left his some time to pretend to be General Sherman in his mind. He gave orders to imaginary soldiers and his lips moved silently and he seemed to nod to himself. “Atlanta will be mine” he muttered and pointed his pencil at no one in particular. It didn’t matter that he was wearing an Abba tee shirt and always had the tune to “Dancing Queen” playing in his head. He was a general today. Croda didn’t mind the nickname of “little round top” that the 6th graders gave him. It was a haircut experiment that had gone awry and left him with approximately 3 hairs on his scalp. He thought they were referring to a Civil War battleground and that suited him just fine.

The day went slowly for the only 13-year-old in 6th grade. When it came time for recess, Croda broke into a cold sweat. He knew that Stacie and the rest of the fourth grade girls were waiting for him by the swings. How he hated her with her skinny arms and bony fists. He began his comforting mantra, “Steve Austin – the Six Million dollar man” He hesitantly stepped outside and heard every imaginable rhyme with the name Croda. One in particular confused him. Of course, he didn’t know who Abe Vigoda was. An involuntary whimper escaped his lips as he saw the bane of existence. She stood there with her evil countenance and her shiny braces. Beady little eyes watched his every move. He hoped and prayed that all of the coaching he had received the night before would help him with his battle this day. Hours on the phone weeping and begging Meeks to protect him had produced little. His only friend in this world told him about the pennies. He had also mentioned that he had put Croda into 6th grade and that he can take him out. That was when Croda called him a titmouse and hung up.

Croda reached for his pennies and handed them over to the evil mistress of the swingset. Immediately, she brushed his hand aside and kicked him where it hurts so much and makes you cry like you never cried before except for that time when he was impaled in another lifetime. The inevitable tears came and he fell face down. She was supposed to be counting them. That’s what Meeks said. The fifth grade girls lined up in a very orderly chorus line kicking formation and then kicked the stuffing out of Croda. Through his tears he saw a figure come towards Stacie and hand her two quarters. He knew that person! It was Meeks. Oh, how he felt so bewildered and betrayed. He slipped into blessed unconsciousness after someone used a brick that was meant for Meeks

Harsh, cold lights woke Croda along with the knowledge that he was being invaded from behind. He heard the snap of rubber gloves and smelled the pungent scents of the school nurse’s office. “Hey, what are you doing?” Croda shouted as he squirmed away from the smocked invader of his regions most nether. Mrs. Worthington harrumphed and simply stated that Croda had bumped his head on something and she was just being thorough. Croda hurriedly put his pants back on and ran out of the nurse’s office. He noticed some movement from the corner of his eye and saw Meeks writing a check out to the nurse for a Rectal Exam. Croda stopped and wept with the heart rending knowledge that his life wouldn’t get much better than this. His only hope was to move away from Massachusetts and stop being a wussy Patriots fan.

[PVLLVS MAXIMVS]

Originally posted by Sledge59:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by PULL TOY:

My problem is that there is no obvious way to tell who to challenge without simple saying "some one play me... waah."

...Whichever one of you qualifies, I hereby challenge you to a game of CM.

Shall I smudge my sword by mauling this minnow? Nah... a swift kick is easier.

Lookie hare, sunnie. This ain't the wannabe challenge thread, this is the <big>Peng Challenge Thread</big>. Weez gots rulz 'n staindards 'n stoff. There's nobady hare ta uncwumple the olde red rug fer ya: Yooz gotsta figger it out yerself!</font>

[PVLLVS MAXIMVS]

Originally posted by Mace:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by PVLLVS MAXIMVS:

which one of you incoherent, feckless poop-mongering cheez-buckets is a Scum Sucking Squire, or a Stoopid Newbie, or what the hell ever rank Im entittled to challenge?

Refer to photo, previous page.

Mace

(that'll scare him off)</font>

[Croda]

Titmouse.

[Joe Shaw]

All right, I'm getting tired of this nonsense. Since he WON'T just SOD OFF like a good 'un I suppose we'll have to give him a clue. Look you here PHALLVS MINIMVS, Sledge59 and Yeknodathon are both squires ... don't ask me how, I'm still trying to figure it out but I'm thinking bribery had a LARGE role. As such they might, MIGHT grant you the boon of a game but usually it requires the intervention of their Knight.

There is, lucky for you, ONE Serf at present, Diceman (I'm forbidden by my personal rules of conduct to bold his name at this time, but since he's a Serf I CAN spell it properly). Challenge him and let's see if he can stop laughing long ago to agree to a match.

Now SOD OFF!

Joe

[Patchy]

Originally posted by Hiram Sedai: I'm living in a state of denial...

Hiram, I know this is really an autobiography of yourself...you just need to admit it...everything will be OK...I've corrected the names in your story for you...You will never be able to find your inner Croda if you continue to stay in this state of denial.

Persephone

Hiram; The Prepubescent Years

Today was his day to be tough. Hiram had his favorite matchbox car wrapped up in his left shirt sleeve to simulate a box of cigarettes and he put a roll of pennies in his pocket in case of an emergency. He sat in his 6th grade homeroom wishing he were somewhere else. The kids surrounding his desk ignored him and he preferred it that way. That left his some time to pretend to be General Sherman in his mind. He gave orders to imaginary soldiers and his lips moved silently and he seemed to nod to himself. "Atlanta will be mine" he muttered and pointed his pencil at no one in particular. It didn't matter that he was wearing an Abba tee shirt and always had the tune to "Dancing Queen" playing in his head. He was a general today. Hiram didn't mind the nickname of "little round top" that the 6th graders gave him. It was a haircut experiment that had gone awry and left him with approximately 3 hairs on his scalp. He thought they were referring to a Civil War battleground and that suited him just fine.

The day went slowly for the only 13-year-old in 6th grade. When it came time for recess, Hiram broke into a cold sweat. He knew that Stacie and the rest of the fourth grade girls were waiting for him by the swings. How he hated her with her skinny arms and bony fists. He began his comforting mantra, "Steve Austin" the Six Million dollar man" He hesitantly stepped outside and heard every imaginable rhyme with the name Hiram. One in particular confused him. Of course, he didn't know who Abe Vigodam was. An involuntary whimper escaped his lips as he saw the bane of existence. She stood there with her evil countenance and her shiny braces. Beady little eyes watched his every move. He hoped and prayed that all of the coaching he had received the night before would help him with his battle this day. Hours on the phone weeping and begging Croda to protect him had produced little. His only friend in this world told him about the pennies. He had also mentioned that he had put Hiram into 6th grade and that he can take him out. That was when Hiram called him a titmouse and hung up.

Hiram reached for his pennies and handed them over to the evil mistress of the swingset. Immediately, she brushed his hand aside and kicked him where it hurts so much and makes you cry like you never cried before except for that time when he was impaled in another lifetime. The inevitable tears came and he fell face down. She was supposed to be counting them. That's what Croda said. The fifth grade girls lined up in a very orderly chorus line kicking formation and then kicked the stuffing out of Hiram. Through his tears he saw a figure come towards Stacie and hand her two quarters. He knew that person! It was Croda. Oh, how he felt so bewildered and betrayed. He slipped into blessed unconsciousness after someone used a brick that was meant for Croda

Harsh, cold lights woke Hiram along with the knowledge that he was being invaded from behind. He heard the snap of rubber gloves and smelled the pungent scents of the school nurse's office. &"Hey, what are you doing?" Hiram shouted as he squirmed away from the smocked invader of his regions most nether. Mrs. Worthington harrumphed and simply stated that Hiram had bumped his head on something and she was just being thorough. Hiram hurriedly put his pants back on and ran out of the nurse's office. He noticed some movement from the corner of his eye and saw Croda writing a check out to the nurse for a Rectal Exam. Hiram stopped and wept with the heart rending knowledge that his life wouldn't get much better than this. His only hope was to move away from Massachusetts and stop being a wussy Patriots fan.

[ February 25, 2002, 02:51 PM: Message edited by: Persephone ]

[imported_Hiram Sedai]

Now that is clever, Ma'am. It is really plaguirism of almost Bauhaus proportions. I am dissapointed though.

[ February 25, 2002, 02:55 PM: Message edited by: Hiram Sedai ]

[Marlow]

Originally posted by Persephone:

... His only hope was to move away from Massachusetts and stop being a wussy Patriots fan.

Unintentional as it appears, this was the part that probably stings EagleBoy the most.

[Sledge59]

{stands at castle gate, smugly picking his teeth}

That'll show the little pip-squeak! ...what's this? He's back:

PULL TOY whimpered:

Fine. I'll just challenge everyone without a label until I find someone who isnt yellow. I'll start with you... You up for a game? Judging from your english skills you must be a SNS or whatever they're called. So... are you up to it?

It's SSN (Scum Sucking Newbie). That'd be your title, bucko! I am a Squarehead! No no no, scratch that. I am a... umm.. err.. JUST LOOK AT MY PROFILE, YOU NINNY!!!

Now, about that game. I've played you once already. Have you forgotten? It was last July. If you'll be so kind as to post the result here, I'll gladly send you a setup.

HOP TO IT!!!

[edited to remove stupid mixed colloquialisms]

[ February 28, 2002, 12:13 PM: Message edited by: Sledge59 ]

[Marlow]

Originally posted by Jo Xia:

Sledge59 and Yeknodathon are both squires ... don't ask me how, I'm still trying to figure it out

I can explain at least part of the mystery. Sludge is Seanachai's Squire, and if we go by past experience as a guide, The Bard has rather low standards.

[Lars]

Originally posted by Agua Perdido:

I had sworn long ago that the gamey uberbastiche known as Lars would have no turn, ever! Or, perhaps only when stevethehorriblelittlerat-facedgit finally sent me a turn (a restriction perhaps more severe than "never, not ever in the lifetime of this universe"). Anyhow, Lars got a turn today. Choke on it, but don't get used to it.

We were playing a game?

Oh, right then.

Well, I’ll just get right on this turn and have it out to you tonight. That way I’ll only have another couple of months to wait to find out what happens next.

No, No. Don't rush. Take your time, Agua.

[Sledge59]

Joe Shaw wheezed:

Sledge59 and Yeknodathon are both squires ... don't ask me how, I'm still trying to figure it out but I'm thinking bribery had a LARGE role.

Poor old Joe. Poor, poor Joe. Poor, old, forgetful Joe. Since your memory is so bad, I'll help you out: Seanachai was extremely careful about getting all the paperwork in order and checked everything out with the then truant Justicar, who had been off pouting on another board. You do remember who the Justicar is don't you, Joe? Good! Well, this silly fellow, the Justicar tried like the dickens to prevent me from becoming a Squire, but came around eventually after a soundly written taunt.

Now, if you wish to speak of failed Squires: What the %$#@! happened to Hanns???

[Lars]

Originally posted by Sledge59:

What the %$#@! happened to Hanns???

He’s probably tied up.

[Patchy]

Originally posted by Sludge59:

Seanachai was extremely careful about getting all the paperwork in order and checked everything out...

Sludge, the Übergnome couldn't possibly have any time in his busy schedule to do paperwork. It would seem that your luck in becoming a squire had more to do with an Olde One being charitable and taking you under his red gnome hat.

Persephone

[imported_Hiram Sedai]

Originally posted by Persephone:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Sludge59:

Seanachai was extremely careful about getting all the paperwork in order and checked everything out...

Sludge, the Übergnome couldn't possibly have any time in his busy schedule to do paperwork. It would seem that your luck in becoming a squire had more to do with an Olde One being charitable and taking you under his red gnome hat.

Persephone</font>

[Sledge59]

Persephone offered this tidbit:

Sludge, the Übergnome couldn't possibly have any time in his busy schedule to do paperwork. It would seem that your luck in becoming a squire had more to do with an Olde One being charitable and taking you under his red gnome hat.

Milady, you place me in a pickle here, for I am under strict orders to honor the Ladies of the 'Pool, and would do so in any event. I must, however, point out the error of your claim.

Simply put: Bards never lie.

If you were to read again the posts of the Übergnome regarding this matter, you would most certainly realize that you are sorely mistaken.

[Guest PondScum]

Originally posted by Leeo:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by PondScum:

the fruit of the loins of Gates-slut. World domination shall be mine, albeit on a very small and pixelated level.

<big>And?</big></font>

[Patchy]

Originally posted by Hiram Sedai:

Ma'am, you know that you are my favoritest Ma'am around here because you smell nice. Sadly, I was also a squire of Seanachai. I think I was his first. He made me do all the paperwork myself and I had to pay him for the dubious honor of being a squire to the Bard.

Hiram, not only had you the honour to be the first Squire of Seanachai, but you also became the son he never had...I'm sure it was well worth the trouble to do all of the paperwork.

Persephone

[Yeknodathon]

Originally posted by Sledge59:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Persephone offered this tidbit:

Sludge, the Übergnome couldn't possibly have any time in his busy schedule to do paperwork. It would seem that your luck in becoming a squire had more to do with an Olde One being charitable and taking you under his red gnome hat.

Milady, you place me in a pickle here, for I am under strict orders to honor the Ladies of the 'Pool, and would do so in any event. I must, however, point out the error of your claim.

Simply put: Bards never lie.

If you were to read again the posts of the Übergnome regarding this matter, you would most certainly realize that you are sorely mistaken.</font>

[Patchy]

Originally posted by Sledge59:

Milady, you place me in a pickle here, for I am under strict orders to honor the Ladies of the 'Pool...

I guess that puts me in a more powerful position (sit down Bauhaus!) than you.

Simply put: Bards never lie.

I agree with you that the Bard never lies... but he has been known to get a little bit confused and forgetful at times. It is well known for him to leave his red pointy gnome hat at the local pub at least 2-3 times a week. And sometimes he wakes up in the morning and finds that he is in the wrong garden, sleeping beside a pink flamingo. It is quite embarassing for the little Übergnome...so you should be grateful he even remembers that he made you his squire. And don't be upset that he didn't fill-out the proper paperwork...It happens...and I'm sure the Justicar will be forgiving.

Persephone