The Death of Rats

*applauds with a shrill clatter* *bites OxygenPlant on the ankle* (wouldn't say Seuss- Shel Silverstein, however- VERY much so. G'job.)

No legs stands on four legs as two legs stands on three, no legs jumps on four legs, the two then leapt on me; Cassock for a haddock, penny for a salt; Pudding asks the greatest questions- Why is this my fault? Where has gone all the little children today? They're under the haystacks fast asleep while the world goes away. Bitter Butter Battle Bobble Bubble Boggles the only way for thee.

Why? How? Because. Wear? Wai? Hew? Beacons. Weir? Oi? Who? Vicars. War? Guy? Hue? Teacups. Wore? High? Few? Tickets. Ware? Fly? Cow? Sickens.

DEar diary, Met lots of new faces today. Good runners, most of them. Found hole in cloak. Not sure what from. BinkY>? Attempted to patch. Sewing difficult without thumbs. Everyone here rubbish with a seam. Shoulds ask Rose; she seems good with fabric. Still not sure how to opertare postal system. Nuisance. Priest to the left side of the priest of the priest to the left side of GGPN's bloody dustbunnies STIll making messes about. Can't seem to drop em- who kills these?? Bollocks. Must go piddle in Zool'sshoes. That always turns a day around. Sincerely,

Ever seen Magical Shopping Arcade Abenobashi? Yeah. It's like that. MOAR!

I have a hat that's full of fleas These won't suck your blood, they'll only eat your cheese There is no fun in my hat, you see, the playground was demolished when the circus went to sea I have some pants so full of cats I frequently climb trees Til the fire department comes to get me down just in time for tea

I never saw him again after that, but I still think of him evcery time I touch my toes.

Wandering under Harmony's legs and eyeing (...socketing?) its new scythe thoughtfully, The Grim Squeaker fades in and out of mortal vision absently. Then, in a rustle of cloak, it dashes forward, on spying an unlucky mouse who had felt that the large red thing had now provided enough distraction from the corn to make a go of it. It heard a strange humming, a 'Snicker-snack!', and then the world went pinwheeling up and around it, and it had occasion to regret that he and the wife had argued just before left tonight.

Does feel summat unfinished; though not in bad way- it's very prologue-y. Not specifically in the story sense, or epic, could easily be used as either... but yeah, the message is very clear- and it reads as "hope is lost, even all the way into heaven, the enemy is winning over all"...however, you leave a lot of questions: Who is the enemy? Why are they winning over everything, perhaps even God (as slightly hinted at in "Do you hear the Angels cry? Do you hear them scream and die? I do.... In the Heavens high above... I hear their plea; "Please! My God, let us be...."), Why does everyone, except the speaker (the narrator is firmly involved as oon as you put in "I" in his speech, and his tone stays very neutral after that) despair their chances of winning? None of those are addressed at *all*, that I can see...not that you have to reveal down to the last detail, this is poetry after all, but *some* answer would be welcome.

*nods sagely* SQUEAK.

Now comes our newest poetess into our quiet vale Pouring the the product of her pen into a silent spell So tearfully seems she to think as she scribes her verse that as not what could be, it is all a waste of ink That loses my perceptions, it goes against proverb. Or am I the only one been taught That's for beholder's words?

Say how do ya do and shake pants like you've got insects in 'em Shuck and trim and cut and pop and cook all that way around the clock Jump like a cat trot like a horse just move yourself around that floor go man, go grab your girl and swing to beat the second hand you've got all the world to dance across and sing the only limit's time

watt in wander ink stains hour aye moor then darkness bud stare Incan too the son four watching awl Thaddeus Will all ways over lode what good halve bin --------------------------------------------- The Grim Squaeker snaps tiny finger appreciatively.

Porpoise seeking purpose has better chance than eye of hearing the state of bee yin and snake and urchin lie

1. [male pennite]Falcon2001 2. [female pennite]Annael 3. [adjective]unruly 4. [another female pennite]blondemoon 5. [adjective]farfetched 6. [item of clothing]cravat 7. [adverb]adverbially 8. [almost dragonic product]Wyvern's ego 9. [adjective]hoarse 10. [creature]sheep 11. [adjective]tiny 12. [body part]brain 13. [yet another female pennite]dragonqueen 14. [sickness]polio 15. [event]Saint Nicholas Eve 16. [shape]rhombus 17. [speed]35 mph 18. [feeling]consternation 19. [body part]toe 20. [game]Parcheesi

Where we are going is where we are is not where have been today is the day after tomorrow two days ago I had hope and today I still do a good turn daily feed the birds tuppence a bag lady in waiting to exhale exhale exhale...

The Death of Rats noted Tamaranis' gaze, and raised its' foreleg with thumb and pinky fingers extended, and waggled the hand in greeting. Tamaranis had given up long ago trying to determine which the small aspect truly had: toes or fingers.

The Death of Rats grinned.

Meanwhile, the Death of Rats walked off in a tiny huff toward Minta and her projects. The young gnome seemed an unending font patience (it'd tried to rile her many times, but to no avail), and for a mortal, she was always full of interesting surprises in matters of how to process passing away. Besides, nothing bad ever happened around her.

Degorram felt a repetitive prodding in her soul. It didn't hurt, but it was very like being lightly poked over and over with a pencil, but in the core of being, instead of the flesh. Looking around rapidly, she soon discovered the source of the irritation. The rat skeleton clad in a black, hooded robe, was standing at her heel, prodding her over and over in the soul with the tip of a tiny claw, as if in rapt fascination with the result of each poke.. She glared down at it, and turning upwards in response, an eyeless, lipless face contrived admirably to look sheepish.

Meanwhile, the Grim Squeaker seemed to be busy guiding the tofu dogs out of this mortal coil. As the small scythe flashed again and again from it's wielder's perch atop the carefully stacked non-weenies, the magi and other magical types glanced over occasionally with interest; who knew tofu had an afterlife? Free food, as always, though, was much more engaging.

It became quickly apparent to the twins that the fireball hurtling through the sky was not, in fact, a shooting star, after it impacted with their backyard, neatly missing all the party decor, and raising an impressively tall plume of dirt. This conclusion was readily reached once they could observe the thing up close, for two reasons; the first of which was that meteorites are not shaped very much like the letter 'U' (not to mention do not seem whitish in color under all of their char), and the second of which that meteorites, of the wishing upon variety, or otherwise, are not known to carry passengers, and most especially not passengers who briskly dismount their transport, give their black cloaks a quick, fastidious brushing, take a up a very small scythe sized to fit their own small stature, then greet two unassuming backyard barbequers with a little wave of their free paw, and a hollow yet somehow convivial, "SQUEAK."

Corbal had a hamster. Hamster had a cold. Corbal said to hamster, 'Stop eating all the mold!' Krenkel had a turtle. Turtle had a hat. Krenekl said to turtle, 'Where did you get that?' Trechle had an oven. 'I'm hungry!', oven moaned. Trechle put in Turtle, Krenkel, Hamster, Corbal. Then the oven glowed!

Bertice Small and Bertice Tall Father, I shoot with my hand Father, I kill with my gun Father, I cannot remember Bertice Fat and Bertice Thin Lady of the dark and light The wild and desolation fuels my yearning for your touch Bertice, Bertice Round again I am gunslinger I am ashes I am pillar I am vessel I am warrior I am lion I am child I am enovy The stories are alive again Thru unimagined subtle source As should and shall be evermore Rejoice.

March 25 Twensday do something bad to priest to the... ... ... ... Snypiuer notfy Nanotoknonnen figer out how "postal system" operates take bath