Die all you miserable fiends! Just kidding, you deserve a hug! No, actually you just deserve...hmm too lazy to think of anything. OK this account is owned my some intoxicated wenches who enjoy chomping apples with style: Meara Sive, Riga Minsk, and Kiri Gottfried. When we write, it is a collaborative effort, which is something fairly new to us, so our story is kind of...well...interesting...*cough*...um yes well if it bores you, remember that the chapters really get better and better as the story goes along, or you can busy yourself trying either to reforest Scotland or to dechurch Canada. Those are both worthwhile things to do. Or give up on us and read somehing by Neil Gaiman and then something by Philip Pullman and then something maybe by Oscar Wilde, although Neil Gaiman and Philip Pullman are much better writers than he is. EEEEP NEIL GAIMAN! LOVE! Philip Pullman is fun because he writes about opium addicts and the downfall of the church, and is able to make cold-hearted people like me have sobbing fits. Neil Gaiman is fun because he gets ideas from his pretty cat who talks to him, and he enjoys writing things down, hiding, and talking to himself in the third person. And Oscar Wilde, he's just...hmmm...attractive. Its so much fun to ramble on like this about authors better than us, and I marvel at any one who manages to read this, but then it is no worse than the story below. OK have fun...AND DIE!!!!!
"Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold"
-Anne Rice
Pip:Maybe Treebeards right. This is too big for us. What can we do in the end? We've got the Shire! Maybe we should go home.
Merry:The fires of Isengard will spread. The forests of Buckland and Tuckburrow will burn and...and all that was once green and good in this world will be gone! There won't be a Pippin, Shire!
Baka!
Ich, San, Ni, KONNICHIWA!
Oh I just love God! He's so deliciously evil!
If I were'nt so excited, I'd be confused!
Hello my Freaky Darlings!
How delightful! Its as if someone just stabbed Mr. Bubble!
It's time to put the kid on meds...
Baby Ariel must DIE!
Ruthie! Ya got any avocadoes? *smack*
Jack: P-Pe-Puh-Pm-Pmeh-
Pirate: Parle?
Jack: Parle! That's the one! Parle!
Other Pirate: Parle?! Down to the depths with whatever muttonhead thought up Parle!
Jack: The French. Latin based, of course. Inventors of mayonnaise.
Pirate: I like mayonnaise...
Jack: The thing about the French, they're obsessed with raisins. Humiliated grapes, really. Think about it...
Pirate: I dun know...
Jack: Wonderful singers, the French...Eunichs, all of em.
Other Pirate: Thats not right...
Pirate: I dated a Eunich.
Jack: ...I'll get my coat.
Kidnap the Sandy Claws, tie him up real tight! Throw away the key and then turn off all the lights!
Elizabeth: Might I be shopping for something to wear? Or will it be...bare breasts and ankles all the way?
Commodore: *snort* ...Ankles all the way!