The Peng Challenge Thread....Drunken Shotgun of the Gods

[Nidan1]

Why don't you take some then Joe....using the German meaning for the word "gift".

[Joe Shaw]

Originally posted by Nidan1:

Why don't you take some then Joe....using the German meaning for the word "gift".

[sNEER] I'd expect nothing better from a so-called CessPudlian that would allow the likes of Abbott to call him by his GIVEN name instead of his CessPool name.[/sNEER]

Of course in MY case the two are the same ... I've seen no need to further gild the lily.

Joe

[Yeknodathon]

Leonardo da Hummer

Bottihummer

Andy Hummerhol

... *snort*

[Michael Emrys]

Originally posted by Leeo:

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

Joyce gives me teh hawt.

Aww yeeaahh! </font>

[Abbott]

Originally posted by Yeknodathon:

Leonardo da Hummer

Gawd, you're such a wierdo! But seeing how I am such a fair guy may Leonardo da Hummer show up at your door and give you the humping of your dreams.

---

Welcome back Joe Bob , your return disappoints but we can live with it.

[Boo Radley]

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Boo Radley:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

And may I just say that, upon my return, I was sadly disappointed in the shockingly inadequate job done by the Justicar Pro Tempore of the Peng Challenge Thread.

I mean it's not as if I expected a GOOD job, but the degree of incompetence displayed was truly beyond my expectations.

Joe

So, if my inadequate job went beyond your expectations, imagine what would have happened if I'd REALLY slacked off.

Maybe your head would have exploded. </font>

[Joe Shaw]

Originally posted by Boo Radley:

pffft.

With my eyes closed. ... {snipped} ...

And that would differ from your normal posting style (not to mention spelling ability) in WHAT way?

Yes, yes, I DO know about touch typing, but really lads, when you think of Boo Radley typing isn't this what comes to mind ...

Joe

[Egbert]

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

And may I just say that, upon my return, I was sadly disappointed in the shockingly inadequate job done by the Justicar Pro Tempore of the Peng Challenge Thread.

I mean it's not as if I expected a GOOD job, but the degree of incompetence displayed was truly beyond my expectations.

Joe

Hey, Boo, he had expectations this time. That's an improvement.

[Moraine Sedai]

Ever in my incessant wanderings do I know that, when the mood strikes me to return to this den if iniquity, the MBT, unlike all else in this cold, harsh world, remains.

It is the fetid, three-week-old bloated-in-the-parching-sun-amidst-one-of-our-worst-drought-ever type remains, but remains it does.

Does it reek? Oh yes, but it's a familiar stench.

Nice to see y'all haven't changed a bit.

We, though, yes WE have. WE are moving up a state in about a month. What joy packing up 30 plus years of accumulated...stuff...only to have to UNPACK it again in a few weeks. whee But it will be nice living amongst the mountainous regions and lakes again, so there's that. And no mortgage will be nice, too. Working for one's self will have its advantages to be sure as well.

And you lot? You stew in your own juices of hate and vitriol and jolly sing-songs.

I weep for you.

No. I really don't. I miss you horrible little men and the few Ladies who grace you with their presence. Not presents - unfortunately for you lot. No. No presents. Just lumps of coal in YOUR stockings, yes indeedy.

[Bugged]

I hope you stick around for awhile, Moraine. You're needed here.

[Moraine Sedai]

Originally posted by Bugged:

I hope you stick around for awhile, Moraine. You're needed here.

Truly? Does someone (or someones) here need a dainty high heel applied to their forehead? I might be able to accommodate that.

[Seanachai]

Alright, then. I know that there are some of you (maybe two or three), who enjoy the 'Tales of Small Emma'. And I know that I have not spoken of the small, imperious one lately, so you probably think that I haven't seen her.

Not true. Since I am not currently working, I have actually been trying to be helpful to her Mom and Dad by being around to play with her, take orders, and generally keep her occupied while Mom and Dad achieve things like actually talking to each other, or checking their email.

I have decided that dealing with small children is a bit like watching the evolution of human civilization. For one thing, things like 'slavery' become a lot clearer when you've become the minion of a small child.

The other night, her Mom came in to Emma's room, and said 'What are you guys doing?'. And Emma told her: We are playing Princesses!

And her Mom told her, 'You're pretty lucky, Emma! There's not a lot of boys that will play 'Princesses' with you!

And Emma just looked at her. So her Mom told her, 'Emma, are there any of the boys at Daycare who will play 'Princesses' with you?'

And Emma told her: No.

And her Mom told her: So you're pretty lucky then, 'cause you have Grandma Steve. He'll play 'Princesses' with you. Don't you think it's pretty lucky to have Grandma Steve?

And Emma just stared at her like she was speaking in tongues. I could see the small child thoughts. What's to wonder about? Where's the luck? He's Grandma Steve. He's my minion. I own him.

Anyone seen the HBO series "Rome"? I should probably be calling her 'Domina'. The one good thing is that, as she's gotten older, she's come to grips with certain realities. When we play 'dress-up', I'm forgiven from putting on bizarre outfits. She tells me: Grandma Steve, you cannot wear dress-up clothes. You are too large.

Gods be thanked for small favours from small favourites.

In one thing, though, I am allowed to recapture my own, and am granted a special status. With four small words, right now, I suddenly move from lowly slave of the lamp, to a figure of power and glory.

Those words are "Once Upon a Time".

When I say that magic phrase, small eyes go round, there's a little intake of breath, and suddenly I'm no longer just the animator and ventriloquist of dolls, stuffed animals and puppets. I'm not just a large, forelock pulling henchman, or fluttering, cawing bird enacting the will of the wicked queen.

I then become The Storyteller. Not the reader of books, because Mom and Dad do that, too. I become her own personal wizard, who uses words like spells, to spin a new world before her eyes.

Thank Christ I've read 3/4s of the fairytales ever written, 1/2 the legends, folktales and stories of the world, and am more conversant with mythology than anyone outside a University. I'm totally prepped.

Of course, right now, it's very simple stuff. And the appeal is, unlike books, she has input into the story.

The other night, her Mom told her: Okay, I told you you could play with Grandma Steve for another 15 minutes (for play, read: Be an Empress), and I've actually let you play for 30 minutes. That's twice as long.

Don't I know it. I kept thinking 'goddamn it, when's the timer going to go off?! I'm dying in here, sneezing my arse off from the dog hair and getting up and down from the floor. I'm bloody old! Surely we've been playing for more than 15 minutes?!

And Small Emma's Mom tells her, 'So, it's time to go to bed. Who do you want to read you your books, Momma, or Grandma Steve.'

I am a trusted figure, these days. Like Mommy and Daddy themselves, I'm allowed to read the bedtime stories. It was a proud moment for me when I was allowed that status. We weave our own chains out of love.

And Emma tells her Mom, 'I want Grandma Steve to tell me a story for bedtime.'

The Storyteller. Magician. Wizard.

So I got to tell her a story, the books set aside, for now. We had to pick out pajamas, of course. And then there's the brushing of the teeth. And then all the lights in the room go off, except the little light by the bed, which has small, cutout figures that spin about the bulb from the heat convection, and makes the walls dance with shadows and light.

As I say, one of the things that makes it wonderful, is the ability to determine things. So I sit down beside her bed, and she grabs her covers and pulls them up, and tells me: I want a story with a witch, and a princess, and a fairy! And me and Nora are in it!

Nora, of course, is her little sister. She's starting to realize that it's wonderful to have a little sister. I think she's starting to realize the potential of having an even younger, smaller princess who will have to do what she says. Love begins with ownership. We grow out of it, but what we first love is what is ours. Maturity grows from the knowledge that what we love also owns us.

So I begin my story:

Once Upon a Time...

Yeah, it's hackneyed as hell. But she's four, and she recognizes the implicit promise of magic, handed down from years longer than she can even comprehend. Magic words.

Later, when she gets older, it will become more complex. It will take the form of: 'Once in a time that isn't now, but was a good time'; or 'Once when there was still magic, and magic was still in the world', or whatever you come up with for 5 or 6 year olds. But for now, the words that are easy to grasp, and signal that wonders are about to begin...

Once upon a time...

Small Emma, and her little sister Nora, who were living in their cottage in the forest, decided to go and visit their friend...

There must be a witch, and a princess, and a fairy. The simple parameters of wonder. And the little heroine says what they are. There's gotta be a witch, a princess and a fairy.

And the fairy starts out as 'Fairy Lemon Blossom', but, after a quick, breathless interjection, we find should be named 'Fairy Lemony'. And the princess is 'Princess Twinny'. And the huge wolf 'whitefang', that jumps out upon the path in front of Emma and her sister Nora, is first met with wide-eyes, but is accepted with regal calm when it turns out that he is the friend of Princess Emma.

And the second wonderful thing about being told a story, as opposed to being read a story, is that the story is interactive. When Emma frees Fairy Lemony and Princess Twinny from the dungeons of the wicked witch (and dungeons, I'l have you know, are all cold and 'greasy'. Which means that there's stuff all over the walls, dripping. And now, in the wake of the story, a certain small girl tells other people that dungeons are 'slimy', which means that there is stuff dripping from the walls...), it turns out that the heroines do not get away, but the witch traps them again.

Which means new stratagems must be used, and even more allies called upon, and even baby sister Nora suddenly vaults to prominence as she climbs all the way up to the very top of the witch's tower, which is called 'the attic', to steal the magic key

Because the wonder must not have an end. And the adventures must go on, and be ever more wonderful.

And, oddly enough, it is also means it is not...quite...yet...bedtime.

But every story has to have some sort of end, and when I wrapped up the story of how Emma and Nora rescued the Fairy and the Princess from the Wicked Witch, I got a big eyes, and a smile, and the acclaim:

That was a really long story, Grandma Steve!

Anyone from the Peng Challenge Thread could have told her that that was never in doubt. The appreciation, of course, was a little greater.

And so, we come near the end of my story. But there's a humorous reprise.

Today, the day after I told her the really good story, I went with her and her Mom and sister to run errands. It helps if you're trying to get a lot done to have another adult along.

And when we got back to their house, her Mom wanted her and her sister to go down for a nap. No problem with Smaller Nora, who was brought in from the car, with great quiet, as limp as a sack of potatoes, and taken right off to her crib.

But Emma had her favourite minion there. She wanted to play, but, if the truth be told, she was dead tired herself. So she was told that Grandma Steve could not play with her. And she hugged her Mom, and cried. Quietly, as befits a Princess.

So, she was told: If you go up and get in bed to take a nap, Grandma Steve will tell you short story. And she said 'No, I want a long story!' And her Mom, who is quite loving, but knows that no one in this world gets her way simply by crying and demanding, told her 'Well, then no story, and Grandma Steve will go home'.

And Emma told her 'I don't want that!'

And her Mom told her 'How about a medium story?'

And Small Emma, who is nothing if not shrewd, said immediately 'Yes!'

And her Mom told her 'So you will go up, get in your bed for a nap, and Grandma Steve will tell a medium story?' And Emma told her 'Yes, that is good'.

So she got set down (one can only cry quietly and with great disappointment when you are in Mom's arms; otherwise, it just looks like pouting), and she took my hand and we went upstairs to her room. And she jumped into her bed, and I arranged the chair beside it, and she said:

Tell the same story, Grandma Steve. Tell the story of Emma and Nora and the witch, and the fairy and the princess.

And I thought, Jesus Christ! Am I going to have to start paying attention to the stuff I make up?!

But it was easier than I thought. I told her the story over again, and when Emma had to walk down the steps into the dungeon (the walls of which, this time, were covered with 'slime', and not 'greasy'), I walked my fingers down the blanket to show how they had to go down very far.

And when I hit a certain part of the story, she suddenly stopped me and said: No, Grandma Steve, wait! Before that, Emma tells Nora that she has to hide behind the bush, and Nora says that she doesn't want to, that she is brave and will come with her sister to face the witch, but Emma reminds her that she was only allowed to come with if she promised that she would do what she was told, and she remembers her promise and agrees to hide behind the bush.

I'll be goddamned. She had it exactly right, in the right place, and in almost the same words I used.

I'd told her this story exactly once. There was no repetition to drive it home.

I guess when you're pre-literate, you pay more attention to 'the words'. I guess when you're the heroine, you pay attention to the story. I guess when you're the captive of wonder, you capture it yourself.

I now completely believe, as I always thought I'd believed before, that preliterate societies would hand down vast legacies of legend and storytelling through oral tradition. I've seen it.

So I went back a line or two, and put in the right scene. And then Emma told me:

Grandma Steve, this is a long story, so I want you to remember where you stop, so you can tell me the rest of it from where you stop next time. Because this is a kind of 'chapter story'. I think you should stop at the part where Nora climbs all the way up to the tower to steal the magic key, okay?

And I told her, amazed at the fact that she remembered that she'd told her Mom that 'we would only do a medium story', that I would remember.

And she told me: So, when you go home, and go to sleep, you remember where we stopped, and you tell me the rest of the story next time, please.

And told her, I will, Emma Small Friend.

And she hugged me, and she pulled up her covers, and she went to take a nap.

I wouldn't mind winning a Pulitzer Prize for literature. But I can't imagine I'd feel any more sense of accomplishment.

Of course, I'd have a lot better chance of debauching college women majoring in literature and creative writing. And the monetary sum would be much appreciated.

But I'd just disappoint the former, and drink up the latter in a mean frenzy.

Once Upon a Time isn't so bad...

[ng cavscout]

My 4 year old, Anna, was in the back seat of the van yesterday as we were doing errands, like making an appointment to pay a freaking Chevrolet Dealership $90.00 to look at the stupid security system on my mini-van ignition, which is apparently now not constistently recognizing the transmission from the microchip in the key which allows it to start. This is after getting a new key made which cost 65.00. That made me sad.

Anyway, Anna pipes up, "I destroyed the whole world last night". My lovely wife and I look at each other. Anna continues "There was fire everywhere, but I didn't destroy you Daddy, or Hope, or Luna". Luna is our dog. Anna also wants to be a Police Officer so she can kill bad guys, and she will also be a Fire Fighter so she can rescue kittens.

She will have to fit these two careers into her free time from her real jobs of being a Princess and killing "Ombzies".

When I get home from work, she always runs up to give me a hug and asks if I killed any bad guys today, I tell her no, not today. She also asks if my pistol is for killing "Ombzies", being an honest father, I tell her yes, but only in emergencies, usually I use the shotgun for "Ombzies". Anna wants a pink single shot bolt action .22 cal rifle we saw at Gander Mountain. I will probably get it for her 8th birthday.

Anna is starting to get along better with her younger sister Hope, but Hope makes it hard because Hope likes to pull Anna's hair. They both like sitting on my lap and watching Tom and Jerry cartoons on quicksilverscreen.com.

I love being a dad.

[Stuka]

I'm sure Joyce has a lovely, bubbly personality and is kind to animals.

I'm sure she keeps a pen of Abbotts down the back of the yard and feeds them three times a day with hand-built bespoke hummers.

[Seanachai]

This 'teh hawt' stuff puzzles me. Are you lot speaking Cheyenne, or something?

I'm all for Trickster tales, but I prefer them in translation.

I'm too old to learn the language of people we've destroyed.

That's why I have to smile and wave so much, when I contemplate Abbott's posts.

[Thomm]

Originally posted by NG cavscout:

When I get home from work, she always runs up to give me a hug and asks if I killed any bad guys today, I tell her no, not today. She also asks if my pistol is for killing "Ombzies", being an honest father, I tell her yes, but only in emergencies, usually I use the shotgun for "Ombzies". Anna wants a pink single shot bolt action .22 cal rifle we saw at Gander Mountain. I will probably get it for her 8th birthday.

First I was shocked, but then I read the post before, and now I fully endorse this one!

Best regards,

Thomm

PS: By the age of four MY daughter will *own* "Ombzies" with her bare hands, not "pink guns"!

[Seanachai]

Originally posted by NG cavscout:

She also asks if my pistol is for killing "Ombzies", being an honest father, I tell her yes, but only in emergencies, usually I use the shotgun for "Ombzies".

Well, duh. Everyone knows that a fecking pistol (short of a Desert Eagle) is pretty much useless against Ombzies, you fool.

Originally posted by NG cavscout:

Anna wants a pink single shot bolt action .22 cal rifle we saw at Gander Mountain. I will probably get it for her 8th birthday.

Wow. They sued the ****e out of the tobacco industry for 'Joe Camel', but this apparently has gone completely unremarked.

Good to know that the NRA has employed the same marketing gurus that have kept Anheuser Busch solvent by reaching out to the next generation of consumers.

Originally posted by NG cavscout:

Anna is starting to get along better with her younger sister Hope, but Hope makes it hard because Hope likes to pull Anna's hair.

The younger child learns early on that they are relatively powerless, and only the resort to 'terroristic acts' will empower them.

Fortunately, they assume their normal position in the family once they can start playing with the others as an equal, and are no longer forced to resort to extreme measures.

Be aware, though, that you will still have to go through the 'biting' stage. This is the small child equivalent of 'dirty bombs'.

I still remember the horror of baby-sitting nieces and nephews and staring aghast at the perfectly delineated upper and lower teeth imprints of one sibling on another.

I mean, what do you do, except run around and shout? It's not like you're allowed to flog them and put them into a labor battalion.

[Abbott]

Good morning, turns out. It looks like the skies may be clearing and although cold, there may be some sunshine today. That's enough to put a smile on one's face and a spring in one's step. Gawd, I love mornings! WooT!

[Abbott]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

I'm too old to learn the language of people we've destroyed.

That's why I have to smile and wave so much, when I contemplate Abbott's posts.

Oops, I guess I should have read the Thread before posting. I found out I've been destroyed by the mysterious "we". I had so much planned for today and was just waiting for the sun to come up. Golly darn.

[Abbott]

Originally posted by NG cavscout:

I love being a dad.

Enjoy, it's one of the finer pleasures in life. Your also in for another treat when being a Grandpa comes around. Life is so full of wonderful things. My 6 year old grandson doesn't like live Ombzies either.

[Abbott]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

I wouldn't mind winning a Pulitzer Prize for literature.

*smiles* *waves*

Thanks for that one, you've made my day!

[Lars]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

Grandma Steve, you cannot wear dress-up clothes. You are too large.

I've been meaning to speak to you about that.

Have you considered Slim-Fast? Or a Muu-Muu?

[Lady Redneck]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

Grandma Steve, you cannot wear dress-up clothes. You are too large.

Maybe you should try the more matronly dresses like the Queen of England wears. Because I doubt the cute A-line dresses Audrey Hepburn wore would fit you.

And Hello Lady Moraine, good luck on the move and getting settled again.

Originally posted by NG cavscout:

She also asks if my pistol is for killing "Ombzies", being an honest father, I tell her yes, but only in emergencies, usually I use the shotgun for "Ombzies". Anna wants a pink single shot bolt action .22 cal rifle we saw at Gander Mountain. I will probably get it for her 8th birthday.

Our other 6 year old grandson has his own .22 cal. rifle, of course being a "little redneck from Oklahoma" he likes Chevy trucks and Hummers too. As for the Ombzies it's always open season on them.

Lady Redneck

[Joe Shaw]

Originally posted by Lars:

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

Grandma Steve, you cannot wear dress-up clothes. You are too large.

I've been meaning to speak to you about that.

Have you considered Slim-Fast? Or a Muu-Muu? </font>

[Michael Emrys]

Originally posted by Moraine Sedai:

What joy packing up 30 plus years of accumulated...stuff...only to have to UNPACK it again in a few weeks.

Yeah. If that weren't enough all by itself, I in my own case have to wash all the soot and smoke off of mine.

:mad: :mad: :mad:

Michael