Hello! I know I said I'd be back at the weekend. Well, actually, I said "I'll be back at the weekend, I hope." Note the "I hope." Anyway, I have five minutes to reveal what the last post's Item of Interest is. But first, some wrong 'uns: It's not my colon (Tim - Ha. Oh, hang on, here comes another one: Ha.), or my epidermis as a result of wearing too much orange (MJ - I'm clutching my sides), or, in fact, the brain of a lava lamp (Tara - excellent suggestion).
In actual fact it's those red lights in the shape of what appears to be cubes ('Petra), all bunched up and plugged in (Ponita - Liking the new name), in a vase (W*P*D).
Yay for the winners!
Oh, as for the SP guessing - Snooze and W*P*D have come closest so far. Keep it up. I'll reveal what SP actually stands for next week.
I hope you've all had (or are having) splendid weekends.
Ah, here we are again with the third in my Items of Interest series.
As you have probably guessed by now, I have shit all else to post about, or I have, but have no time to do it.
Anyway, best get on with it as I have things to do.
By the way, I haven't ignored all those who left suggestions at what SP stands for (see the last post). Keep guessing, and whomsoever guesses correctly - or the closest - may win a prize (yet to be determined).
Now, before you all gasp your last breaths and cast me out as a collaborator, let me explain: In the past, I may have suggested that Beaky deliberately screeched to high heaven outside my bedroom window of a morning, waking me rudely from my slumber. I may even have utilised such phrases as "Irritating little shit" and "Pest of a thousand decibels" to describe him.
However, imagine my surprise when leaving the house (by the back door, naturally) particularly early one morning last week, when I discovered that Beaky wasn't the culprit. I was walking down the path, chopped sultanas in hand (Ummm... to give to the other birds. Not Beaky.), when, from over the garage roof came the telltale and terrible shriek of a blackbird - Although, it could quite easily have been from a banshee. I instinctively ducked as a dark winged form hurtled towards my head. It landed in the remains of the infernal cherry tree and screeched in defiance as I turned and hissed at it, thinking it was Beaky. Then I noticed who I was hissing at: Mrs Beaky!
I dropped the sultanas in shock, staring incredulously. She dove down and started wolfing down the suculent dried fruit, glaring at me the whole time. Backing up, I almost trod on Beaky who was cowering on the paysho near the rose bush. It seems he'd been skulking in the undergrowth waiting for his shrewish wife to have her fill before he could have a go at the leftovers. We both watched as the greedy cow scoffed the lot, before screeching once more and flying off over the road.
Beaky looked at me forlornly.
I couldn't resist his sad hen-pecked little face and promptly rushed back inside to fetch him some more sultanas.
Despite being away for nearly a week, ErosWings still felt that I deserve the much coveted Lemonade Award, which, quite frankly, I have to agree with. I'm not so sure I should share it with 10 other Bloggers, but I didn't have much say in that decision. Ah, well...
1.Put the logo on your blog or post. There it is up there. 2.Nominate at least 10 blogs which show great Attitude and/or Gratitude. Oh, gods. Do I have to? I'm so lazy...
3.Be sure to link to your nominees within your post. All right, all right! 4.Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog. * sigh * I haven't got time - I want to get in the bath. 5.Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award. I've done it already!
~ ~ ~
On a different note, this Smug Married-ing doesn't half get in the way of Blogging. I promised myselves that, should this day ever come, The Blog would come first and the Boyfriend second.
Perhaps I should show him this blog? He's bound - as MJ put it - to run a mile, leaving me with time to spare. Something to consider...
What have I done with it? Oops! Wrong ones. Pretend you didn't see those.
Is it in here, I wonder? No. Ah, well. I could stand to look at these a bit longer...
* sings along to the soon-to-be-a-hit Dreamy In Speedos *
Because heee's sooo Dreamy in Speeedos. He makes my heaaaart siiiinng When he wears almost nothing.
Well, it's not in here.
It must be in this file, then. Hmmmm... But where, though?
Hah hah ha! Metrosexual my eye - Tim really is soooo much further gone than Metrosexual. All that shopping, not to mention the uncontrollable jealousy if I so much as glance at anyone else. I'm sure Reeser, Kreuk and Stevens are just elaborate decoys.
icking her heels up as she sat atop the specially prepared 20-mattress-deep bed in the guest room, the Queen Mother drained the last of the whisky from her bottle and, cackling, threw it down to the floor. The empty bottle narrowly missed the kitchen boy who'd been roped in to help put the princess's bed together. He flinched as it smashed to smithereens at his feet, then looked up, narrowing his eyes at the old baggage ten feet above him.
"Careful, MJ!" Prince Eros called up to her, using his pet name for her from when he was just a boy. He couldn't say 'Majesty', and so had shortened it. "You'd better get her down, Beast" he instructed, turning to the hapless kitchen boy. "Before she falls and either kills herself or one of us."
Beast sighed in resignation and moved towards the ladder leaned against the foot of the bed. Just then the bedroom door opened admitting the waiter who was carrying an enormous tray of exotic fruit and vegetables.
"You took your time, Mr Frobisher" Beast snidely remarked.
Before the waiter could answer, MJ screeched down from her lofty vantage point. "You were only supposed to fetch a pea! Where is it?"
"Well, your Majesty" the waiter began, "we don't have any peas. Monsieur Queynte's fastidiousness for the exotic has meant that all native fruit and vegetables have been stricken from the castle. Hence this selection of, er... Umm.." Frobisher withered under the Queen Mother's gaze.
"Get me down from here!" she shrieked.
Beast manoeuvred the ladder towards MJ's perch on the edge of the towering bed.
"Mind my bag!"
* pop *
* FWOOOOSH *
Too late! The top of the ladder knocked into the Queen Mother's full colostomy bag, spectacularly bursting it. 70% proof piss flooded the bed, quickly soaking through the mattresses like Alien acid through deck-plates. Displaying unusually quick thinking, Prince Eros scrambled up the ladder, secured MJ in a fireman's lift and slid down again as Beast and Frobisher started pushing the moist mattresses off the bed and out of the window, until they overtook the flood. The last, partially soaked, mattress was heaved out of the window by the two kitchen lackeys with a combined exhausted sigh.
"What will we do now?" Eros asked plaintively.
MJ hiccupped before answering. "I should think the three remaining mattresses will be fine. There's no way that princess is a proper princess. I don't even think she's a she!" She paused briefly to burp before continuing. "Put the pea under them and let's be done with this."
"We don't have a pea, remember?"
"Oh, yes" MJ looked confused. "What have we got?"
Frobisher held up the tray of exotic fruit. "These."
"OK, that'll do" MJ announced pointing at a banana.
Frobisher lifted the edge of the mattresses a little then shoved the banana underneath. Beast wandered over from the window and collapsed onto the bed. "Oh, I'm so exhausted" he whined as he lay on his back and snuggled down. "Ooh! This bed is very comfy."
"Get off there!" MJ yelled, waving a pineapple at Beast threateningly. He winced and slunk off the specially prepared bed. "Come on. Make that bed then let's go, Bitches. We'll find out the truth about Princess Petra in the morning."
~ ~ ~
Watching the scene below from their vantage point on a shelf were two stuffed toys, a puppy and a hippo.
When the humans had left the room, the hippo turned to the puppy and said "Can we anthropomorphise and gerrout of 'ere? It fookin' stinks of 'er piss."
"OK. Show's over now anyway" the puppy answered.
They both gritted their teeth and strained, becoming two almost human looking poofs sitting on the shelf. However, the puppy might have strained a little too much...
* thbbtpptbthbthpthbbbtppthbt *
"Heh heh heh! Let's see how well this Princess Petra sleeps in that" the little man who was once a stuffed toy puppy grinned evilly.
The stripy man who was once a stuffed toy hippo tried not to gag as he jumped off the shelf and followed his companion out of the room. On their way down the stairs, they passed a very worse-for-wear young(ish) 'woman' just about wearing what once must have been a beautiful red dress. She was grasping an almost empty martini glass for dear life in her right hand. Her left was clutching the bannister as she made her unsteady ascent in dangerously high heels.
~ ~ ~
In the morning - Well, the early afternoon to be honest - the door to the guest bedroom was pushed open by the Queen Mother. Prince Eros waited outside as decorum dictated.
"Hello, dear" she said to the rousing Petra. "How did you sleep?"
"Oog... I didn't get a wink." Eros gasped in shock, then slapped his hand over his mouth to prevent anymore outbursts that might betray his position.
"What?" MJ demanded, a little too much horror evident in her voice. This drunken creature surely couldn't have felt a banana though one mattress, never mind three. It couldn't be a princess. It just couldn't. "Why ever couldn't you sleep?"
"Well" began Petra, rubbing his stubble and yawning, "it was the vile decor. I just couldn't sleep in such a badly decorated room!"
You may well ask what became of Tim and the witches, suffice it to say that this story wasn't about them. Although, I'm sure we'll be catching up with young Timothy quite soon.
urprisingly, no one noticed as the huge mirror on the far side of the ballroom rippled slightly before three witches, in a delta formation, stepped out of the reflections and into the real world. Unsurprisingly, the witches were bickering.
"I can't believe you let him escape, Dinah" the witch on the right hissed, her long hair writhing.
"I only reversed the reflection to give him a hankie, T-Bird" the left witch hissed back. "His sniffing was driving me crazy. He must have caught a chill from being so... naked."
"Sssshhh!" I urged. "Timothy has had prior experience at escaping from our clutches, it's no surprise he managed to fool you."
"He did not fool me!" Dinah shot back, stamping her foot, frost radiating out across the wooden floor. "He just... Saw an opportunity."
The other party-goers had started to notice us. T-Bird surveyed the room quickly, assessing the situation. "We're drawing attention" she said. "Time to blend in." And with that, we seperated and faded into the background as we searched for our missing plaything.
~ ~ ~
The ballroom's main doors were opened by a couple of lackeys, revealing a young(ish) princess looking resplendant in a long blood-red dress. She was announced into the room by the butler.
"Prince-" the old butler hesitated slightly as he looked the young... woman up and down. With a raised eyebrow, he continued: "-ess Petra."
Petra grinned and sashayed into the crowd, heading directly for Prince Eros, who took 'her' proffered hand after 'she''d elbowed the gaggle of princess-wannabes aside.
"My lady" he greeted her, then paused as he noticed her not-so-dainty hand. Well, it wasn't so much not-dainty, as it was large. His ingrained chivalry kicked in before too much time passed, and he completed the action, kissing the princess's hand as 'she' giggled behind 'her' fluttering fan. "Have we met before?" he asked.
"Why, I do not believe so" Petra answered coyly, batting his eyelashes in a rather over-the-top way.
"Would you excuse me for just one moment" the prince asked and turned questioningly to the Queen Mother on the dais behind him. The Queen Mother narrowed her eyes at the newcomer. A seed of suspicion had germinated within her.
With the prince momentarily distracted, the dismissed princess-wannabes approached Petra with looks of seething jealousy slapped across their faces.
"I suppose you think you're All That" the lead girl hissed. "Well, you didn't even dress up. Or didn't you know it was fancy dress?"
"Of course I knew" Petra retorted.
"So, what part of the calendar have you come as, then?"
Suddenly, Petra had found his opportunity to be rid of these pesky Breeders. He smiled demurely and answered: "Why, I've come as The Time Of The Month!" Each and every one of the girls faces dropped. A collective "Eeewwww!" sounded before hands were clapped over mouths and the girls hurriedly ran off to the powder room. Petra was beside himself with glee - Now he had Eros all to himself.
~ ~ ~
In one of the castle's guest rooms, as the fancy dress ball was coming to an end, a bed was being prepared for the only remaining princess. The fact that Prince Eros thought there was something odd about the young woman, a feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on, was neither here nor there. Nor was the fact that he didn't particularly want to put his finger - never mind anything else - upon her, either here, or there. After all, there were rules that had to be followed. If a ball was held for the Prince to find a bride, then the Prince had to find a bride, and that was that.
However, if the princess wasn't actually a princess, well, that was a different matter entirely!
Oh, enough of the Star Wars crap - It won't make it any more interesting.
Yes. It's bad enough you couldn't get off your lazy arse and write this for Hallowe'en.
I had (and still have) Man Flu™!
That's as may be, but we all know Man Flu™ doesn't affect Gayers to the same degree as Breeder Men.
Yeah. Just get on with it.
Oh, be quiet!
* ahem *
ot so long ago - last night, in fact - a castle's kitchen was alive with bustle and swearing.
"Oh, forfucksakes! Get out there with that" the exasperated head chef hissed at the hapless waiter while pointing at a tray of complicated looking hors d'oeuvre.
"Yes, chef" mumbled the waiter.
"And you" the chef blasted, turning to face the flinching kitchen boy. "I want this place spotless when I come down to do dinner. I can feel one of my heads coming on, so you'll have to manage without me for an hour or so."
"Don't fuck things up."
"Yes, chef" they both answered, trying not to cower too much.
When the highly strung and increasingly venomous chef had stormed out, they both sagged and turned to each other.
"Monsieur Queynte's in a right strop tonight. Did you break more dishes doing the washing up this morning, Beast?" the waiter accused.
"No!" the kitchen boy replied indignantly. "I thought you must've dropped yet another breakfast tray, Mr Frobisher?"
The two men glowered at each other through narrowed eyes before Frobisher flounced off with the hors d'oeuvre tray and Beast turned away with a sigh wondering where to begin in the untidy kitchen.
~ ~ ~
In the castle's grand ballroom, the fancy dress ball was in full swing. The guests were mingling, each dressed up according to their interpretation of the calendar theme. They made their way elegantly around the opulant ballroom, gliding from one group of gossiping party-goers to another, from the magnificent buffet tables to the dancefloor, and then on to the raised dais at the far end of the room to parade themselves before the royal family. The crown prince, Eros, was surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls. Not surprising really considering his costume. Or lack thereof. His fancy-dress consisted of a tiny pair of strawberry icecream-pink trunks and lashings of cream, chocolate sauce and icecream melting quickly over his tanned, muscular body. At the other end of the room, the Willow Fairy, dressed as Wednesday Addams, and the court artist, dressed somewhat strangely, were talking.
"These hors d'oeuvres are quite delightful, don't you think?" the artist asked her companion.
"Um... Yes" was the somewhat distracted reply. "They're very... um... exotic. Look. I've been meaning to ask since you got here: Why are you dressed as a giant poo?"
The Poo coughed in shock. "I'm not a poo! I'm a date" she said, aghast. "You think I'm a poo?"
"Oh my gods." The Date, nee Poo, was horrified. "Everyone else must think I'm a poo, too."
"I'm sure not everyone thinks that..." the Willow Fairy said attempting to console her. "Some might think you're a... a..." But before she could come up with a less insulting idea, the french doors behind them were flung open revealing a very handsome, but almost naked young man with a look of confused desperation in his eyes.
"Someone didn't get the revised invitation" the Willow Fairy whispered to the newly revealed Date before turning back to the, frankly stunning, man before them. Both pairs of eyes lowered involuntarily to the... Handkerchief, that was all that prevented the man from being indecent.
"The Greek Gods theme was cancelled" the Date said to him after she managed to look him in the face.
The man looked wildly around the room, then back at the Date. "Are you dressed as a poo?" he asked in confusion.
The Willow Fairy burst into peals of laughter as the Date sulked and the 'Greek God' disappeared into the crowded ballroom.
We are a witch. I say 'We are' because there are four of us in this one body. Although, technically, only two of us are proper witches: myself, Inexplicable DeVice, and my SubConscious. The other two are witches by proxy: The Host (who shall remain nameless due to the nature of his work) who supplies his body for interaction in the physical world, and his SubConscious - a stubborn and contrary piece of work if ever I shared a body with one. Together, we are a formidable foe with various collectable accessories (All sold seperately. Contents and colour may vary. Not suitable for children under the age of 3. No, 5. Actually, make that 8. Oh sod it, 16. And that's my final offer). Now bugger off. I'm busy!