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Wha widnae oop an' rally a' tha new Peng Challenge thraid?!

OGSF

By OGSF
in Combat Mission Shock Force 1

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Lars Senior Member

Lars

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You mean after you trash dalem's place on Sunday AGAIN ... right?

Er, right.

If he had any real friends he wouldn't put up with you lot ... but then if he had any real friends he wouldn't have to.
We're trying to provide him the incentive to go find some.

Why doesn't the gang ever wander up to Mounds and trash YOUR place ... oh right ... the Lady Shary ... I was frankly amazed she let me drop by.
So was I, so was I...
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Seanachai Senior Member

Seanachai

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I can't quit you, Peng Challenge Thread.

I have lived my life dancing a pavane that treads a delicate measure to the discordant music of my three political heroes: Josef Stalin, Harry Truman and Gandhi, as best typified by the statement: "If you can't stand the heat, then get out of Nagasaki. Especially you, you snotty British Imperialist swine.'

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Seanachai Senior Member

Seanachai

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And, because I am an Old One of the Peng Challenge Thread, and have responsibilities, many, many responsibilities, but also privileges, I feel it is time for a Tale of Small Emma, and Smaller Nora:

Anyone who has ever visited this place knows that I have two Small Friends: Small Emma, and Smaller Nora. They underwent a period, recently, of which I may write more, from my notes, at a later period, of sisterly civil war. There was much grabbing, frog-marching and pushing on the part of Small Emma, answered on the part of her younger sister, by hitting, pinching and hair-pulling. And, in the small-child's answer to a larger and stronger sibling, the childhood equivalent of a 'nuclear strike', biting. Mercifully, the latter incidents were surprisingly few. Possibly because their Mom isn't a toothless UN tiger, limply keeping the peace by hand-wringing and fretting about everyone 'playing nice', but an Imperial Strike Force fully capable of sending all the combatants to their bloody rooms with their heads in their hands, weeping and promising to live better lives.

Mommy Jen isn't having with any 'she did, I did' justifications. The guilty take a short walk off an even shorter pier. Believe me, Grandma Steve knows. As someone who has stood before the same grim, judgmental appraisal, it doesn't do any good to simply put the ducks in a row. Those ducks had better be able to sing the 'Ode to Joy' once they're in place.

Mind, this isn't to say that my friend Jen isn't about the best person on the planet. She's a dear person, a marvelous hostess, a great mom. And I don't say this simply because I always send her my most recent 'Tales of Small Emma and Smaller Nora'. I say it because she's been one of my best friends for over a decade, and because she's raising the best little girls ever, and because if it wasn't for her and her husband, Chris, I'd probably be living under a railroad bridge somewhere. Of course, it would be one of the better railroad bridges in town. I have my standards.

Ah, I love the smell of creosote in the morning. Makes me think of — failure.

Anyway, we seem to be leaving the major period of internecine combat. I was very proud to be there, baby-sitting the other night when they realized that rather than fighting with each other, it might be MORE fun to gang up and double-team Grandma Steve. Little buggers. I was run almost ragged by the time their parents got home to laugh at me. Of course, as I quite humorously detailed my tale of woe, their Mom pronounced: "Well, it sounds like some little girls did not behave at ALL tonight. Maybe Grandma Steve can't come over and babysit any more."

And I thought, 'Hey! Why am I being punished?!'

The result, rather bizarrely, was two little girls simply plodding off to bed saying 'Sorry', while their baby-sitter was dancing, back-tracking and justifying their behaviour left and right, with many a 'But, wait, Jen, you have to understand, it wasn't all THAT bad', and 'But they were very good about not fighting with each OTHER', until I'd become the baby-sitting equivalent of a Holocaust Denier.

Moms are very clever. After that, I knew I had to take a stronger stance with them when they misbehaved. Since then, they've gotten more used to hearing Grandma Steve say 'No!', and being yelled at by their beloved adult minion. Moms are very clever.

I still get to baby-sit. I still indulge them, but we've all gotten used to me being more stern, and more of a — grown-up. Because they are very good little girls. But if I don't take a harder line with them, than I undermine their parents' efforts to make them into good people. And if I don't take a hard line, then I don't get to babysit, and then...who will be there to indulge them, and let them know that they shouldn't pay too much attention to adults, and all the rules?

Moms are very clever. But Grandma Steve has his own low-animal cunning. Mom will win, and my Small Friends will grow up to be wonderful women. But Grandma Steve shall win, too. And they will grow up to smile about it.

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Seanachai Senior Member

Seanachai

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You know, after the experience of my buddy and Old One of the Peng Challenge Thread Berli the other day, locked into 12 hours in a car with a hopeless feckstick, I've come to the following conclusions:

If you're upset and concerned about someone else's beliefs, you're probably a Democrat.

If you're irritated by and dismissive of someone else's beliefs, you're probably a Republican.

If you're angered and outraged by someone's political beliefs, you're either a liberal or a conservative.

If you hate and despise someone else for their beliefs, you're either a goddamn foreigner, or you should be one. Get out of our country. Take your baggage with you.

If you're just upset, concerned, irritated, dismissive, angry or outraged: Welcome to America. Every single one of us are the product of people who crossed an ocean so they could indulge at least one of those emotions without fear or hindrance, and get the same back again from everyone else.

We're all entitled to any or all of those emotions, equally, especially regarding each other. Only anti-Americans reserve them exclusively for themselves, and deny them to any 'other'. And I piss upon them from a considerable height.

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Seanachai Senior Member

Seanachai

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And now, a simple, straight-forward tale of Small Friends:

The other day, before I went up North to my family's cabin with Dalem and our friend Melissa, I went out to dinner with Jen & Chris, and my Small Friends Emma and Nora. I was given the privilege and obligation of walking Smaller Nora to the car, who is very much cognizant of her 'right' to command the friendship of Grandma Steve, who has, since time immemorial (for small children aged 6 and 3 and a half), been the adult that Small Emma has the 'right' to order about.

And I put her into her car seat, carefully strapping her in and making sure all the buckles were so, and straps pulled tight, and all was ship-shape. And I left the car door open, in case her Mom or Dad wanted to check the work and make sure I'd done my duty correctly. Her Mom, at that time, was moving Small Emma's 'booster' seat (she's a big girl now, and doesn't need the full 'child seat' setup) into what Emma calls the 'Way Back'. When Mom&Dad, Emma and Nora and Grandma Steve go somewhere all together, the Pacifica needs to have one of the rearmost fold-down seats pulled up for Emma's seat, which she thinks is very cool.

So, as her Mom was fiddling with putting the 'booster' seat into place for Emma, I was left sitting in the back seat next to Smaller Nora, who looked at me, looked at her door, and said: 'Grandma Steve, you did not shut my door!'

And I smiled at her, and said: 'Oh, you're right, Nora! I forgot to shut your door! I'm so sorry.' And then settled back, knowing her Mom or Dad would shut it when they got into the car.

And she looked at me, quietly, for a moment, and then said: 'Get OUT!'.

The tone of voice clearly said: You can't shut my car door sitting there, you half-witted old fool! I was saved by Small Emma, lazing about the back of the car, waiting for her seat to be put in place, who said 'I'll do it!', and did the monkey-climb thing through the space between me and her sister, and leaned over her sister to pull the door shut.

After dinner, as we were driving home, Emma in the 'Way Back', and me sitting next to Nora in the back seat, Emma said: 'Grandma Steve, let's play 'Rapunzel'.

I said to her, 'Okay, Emma, how do we play that?'

She smiled (and she has the most puckish smile on earth, silly little bugger that she is), and said: 'Well, you will be the Prince, and I will be Rapunzel, and Nora will be the Wicked Queen. So, you say the rhyme so that I let down my hair, and I let down my hair, then you climb up, then Nora is the Wicked Queen and she finds you, and she pushes you out the window, and does an evil laugh.'

Fine and good, if you allow for the fact that we are all seat-belted in, and it's all just pretend. I've had worse gigs.

So I sing the rhyme that I learned as a child, which was 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I might climb the golden stair!'

But this is not the rhyme the Small Friends know, because their knowledge of the 'Rapunzel' story comes from the Shelly Duval 'Fairy Tale Theater' videos made in the 80s, rather than the story that I was read as a child. But I cannot find fault with this, because I was the one who GAVE them the Fairy Tale Theater DVDs (and, quite honestly, they're fantastic).

So I had to learn the new rhyme, which is:

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, so pretty and so fair!

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair!

And so I did the new, correct version, to everyone's satisfaction. And then my Small Friend Emma made - well, I can only describe it as a 'sound effects' noise. A sort of doo-doo-doo-doodle-doodle, noise to indicate that she'd let her hair down. It was...brilliant.

And then she said: 'Now it's your turn, Nora! You have to push the Prince out the window, and then do an evil laugh!'

So Smaller Nora, who looks like the veriest archetype for a Raphaelesque cherubim, all blonde-haired, blue-eyed and apple-cheeked, looks at me, and shoves her hands out and goes: "Push!" then "Ha-ha-ha!" and then "Now, bleed."

Because, in the Fairy Tale Theater version, after the Prince falls to the ground, blood comes from his eyes, and he's blind. No one told Smaller Nora to throw in that detail. She knew how it went.

I started to laugh so hard I could barely talk. I shouted at her Mom 'Jen, what have you been TEACHING her?!'

That is my friend, Smaller Nora. "Push, ha-ha-ha. Now bleed."

We play that game a lot, now. The little girls love it. They love it because they get to laugh, and the adults laugh, but the adults are just a bit nervous about it all.

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Nidan1 Senior Member

Nidan1

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sigh...

First of all, I believe the actual headline read: "Sticks Nix Hicks Pix"

And most of all, it's not even relevant to anything, and all of all, you shame our entire House, my former Squire.

But that's a daily occurrence.

I guess we will have to ask Mr. Cagney then....won't we Jimmy?

My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you, and I thank you.

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Joe Shaw Senior Member

Joe Shaw

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sigh...

First of all, I believe the actual headline read: "Sticks Nix Hicks Pix"

And most of all, it's not even relevant to anything, and all of all, you shame our entire House, my former Squire.

But that's a daily occurrence.

Shame YOUR House? Is such a thing possible?

After all, they've got you in the House don't they.

Boo Radley, former third string quarterback on the Lady of Perpetual Incontinence JV squad who threw for a touchdown in his very first game ... granted it was to the other team but let's not diminish the fact that you did throw the football, it was caught by a football player and went for a touchdown. At least that's the way you describe it these days.

Shaming YOUR House ... oh I think a misquote from an old Cagney film (one of the classics, I grant you) will hardly qualify for that.

Joe

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Nidan1 Senior Member

Nidan1

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Shame YOUR House? Is such a thing possible?

After all, they've got you in the House don't they.

Boo Radley, former third string quarterback on the Lady of Perpetual Incontinence JV squad who threw for a touchdown in his very first game ... granted it was to the other team but let's not diminish the fact that you did throw the football, it was caught by a football player and went for a touchdown. At least that's the way you describe it these days.

Shaming YOUR House ... oh I think a misquote from an old Cagney film (one of the classics, I grant you) will hardly qualify for that.

Joe

Boo is a very hard taskmaster, we are held to a much higher standard of shamefulness than people from those other houses.

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