Sunday 30 August 2009

Birthday brownies

It was The Mother's birthday yesterday, and instead of making her a birthday cake, I made her these birthday brownies:

I wish I'd made more now, as I'm hungry!

Friday 28 August 2009

The Incubus

"Right. That's it" I muttered. "I can't wait up any longer, I'm too tired. I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"
"Not just yet" SP replied, clearly perfectly happy sprawled on the sofa watching one of those ubiquitous home improvement shows, a bowl of popcorn in his lap.
I sighed. "Well, if he shows up, you'll have to entertain him on your own. And don't make too much noise. 'night" I said, leaning over to kiss him before walking out of the room. "And you've retired, so don't go getting ideas" I scolded, leaning around the doorframe*.
SP just 'hmmphed' before turning his attention to the TV once more.

~ ~ ~

Upstairs, as I lay in bed on the verge of sleep, I became aware of a strangely rhythmic groaning, choking sound. I deduced that, because of its muffled nature, it must've been coming from next door, and promptly fell asleep.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, I left SP in bed - He'd obviously managed to sneak up during the early hours of the morning without waking me and was now dead to the world. After washing and putting my contacts in, I went downstairs to open the paysho doors and let some air in. Turning around to head for the living room windows and open the blinds, I started!
Our tardy guest Marcolt, an Incubus who served in the same legion of Hell as SP, was gingerly sitting - almost hovering, really - on a pile of cushions on the sofa.
"Gods!" I snapped ignoring what I took to be a massive yawn. "You gave me a fright. Wherever did you get to last night?"
Marcolt pointed up and through the wall towards next door's son's bedroom (which happened to be adjacent to ours), all the while trying to forceably close his mouth with his well manicured hands. His flawless, lightly tanned skin was stretched taut over his handsome, late-20s looking face as he struggled. I was confused until, from the corner of my eye, I saw next door's 18 year old son - well, his head from over the fence - looking tired but VERY pleased with himself as he staggered into his garden for, what I now realised was a post-coital cigarette!
"I 'ouldn't 'esist" Marcolt confessed through his still wide-open, lock-jawed mouth. "'e 'oz 'o 'ig 'at I 'ought 'e 'oz' a 'ower 'ot a 'rower."
I was incredulous. "So, you bit off more than you could chew, eh?" I retorted, pleased at my quick wittedness. My smugness didn't last long, however, as I then realised why he was practically hovering over the cushions: What he couldn't fit in his mouth, he obviously managed to fit somewhere else!

* Which is perfectly normal-sized, thank you.

Tuesday 25 August 2009

Happy birthday...

Yes, it's Dinah's birthday today. This handy and astonishing Coven member may appear to be in her early twenties (although, she has only been seen from behind* in her adult form**), but she's actually 497 years old today!
While witches don't usually attain such a lifespan, Dinah, like myselves, got caught up in a temporal mishap***, hence her advanced age.

Anyway, enough of that. Let's just wish her a happy birthday before clicking on the links at the side there to find someone older.

Happy birthday, Dinah!

* Not like that you filthsome minded lot!
** That makes her sound like she started out life as a grub then pupated into a fully grown human. To my knowledge, that is not how Dinah grew up. Unless...?
*** A story for another time.

Friday 21 August 2009

Filthy Friday

Well! I've never been so insulted. If you really must see the filth that's on offer, go. Go! And never darken my doorstep again!

Well, not until the next time I post, that is.

P.S. It really is NSFW, so don't even think about it.

Wednesday 19 August 2009

Saturday 8 August 2009

Yet another boring post with pictures of someone else's garden

OK, so we made it to the exotic garden last weekend, and here, finally, are the pictures:

That's SP in the white T-shirt at the back.

And that, my friends, is that. Suffice it to say, if anyone knows where time is very quickly escaping to, please let me know.