Snypiuer

Snypiuer was here - 4/19/08

As Wyvern and Cheermynx seek to unravel themselves, static fills the screen. Voices are heard: V1 - I thought the lizard was going to annouce this? V2 - Yeah, well, turns out that there was a LOT of damage over at Gyrfalcons' and he said something about 'plausable deniability' in case of further litigation. V1 - WHAT!? V2 - HE DOESN'T WANT TO PAY IF THERE'S A LAW SUIT! V1 - Yeah, sounds right. Are we ready? V2 - Yeah, just let me turn this here. . . A couple of rather large squirrels appear on camera: S1 - Greetings Pennites! Sorry for interrupting Wyvern's report. . . S2 - But this just in. . . (Squirrel 1 gives Squirrel 2 an annoyed look, S2 gives S1 a 'WHAT!?" look) S1 - After a bit of a delay, The Grim Squeaker Punt, Pass and Kick Games™, brought to you by Almost Dragonic Enterprises, inconjunctionwiththeNimball™Association, begin today! S2 - That's right folks! And let me tell you, those rumors of The Grim Squeaker being kidnapped, an attempt to escape and being forced to participate, as being the reason for the delay. . .FALSE! (S1 sits in shock for a second and stares at S2, before shoving him off screen.) S2 - HEYYY!! S1 - What my colleague meant is, we are sorry for the delay and we hope everyone will enjoy. Now, back to Wyvern. . . Static fills the screen: V2 - WHY'D YOU PUSH ME?! V1 - DID YOUR MOM DROP YOU ON YOUR HEAD AS AN INFANT?! V2 - THE RUMORS ARE OUT THERE! WE NEED TO CONFRONT THEM! THE LIZARD SAID, "DENY! DENY! DENY!" plus. . . the rat bit me. V1 - WHAT!? V2 - nothing. V1 - LOOK, the Lizard said to deny if anyone asks us. NOT BRING IT UP! They continue arguing as the screen returns to Wyvern and Cheermynx

The crowd goes wild as The Grim Squeaker is brought onto the field. Shakled and held at the ends of four long polls held by four mountain trolls. The Grim Squeakers' scythe is tossed down on the ground a few feet in front of him as the mountain trolls release him and scream, "BACK TO THE SIDELINES!" The mountain trolls make a mad dash to the sidelines, The Grim Squeaker grabs his scythe, anger radiates from him. An announcment comes over the loud speakers: "Pennites, our first contestant. . . SNYPIUER! Snypiuer will be making his first attempt at the PUNT!" Snypiuer takes the field. . . The Grim Squeaker tightens his grip on his scythe. . . Snypiuer slowly, carefully approaches The Grim Squeaker. . . They cautiously circle eachother. . . A high pitched scream of pain rings out! From Snypiuer. The Grim Squeaker had launched himself at Snypiuer, like a hyper-sonic bat out of Hades! Obscenity filled post-it notes, scribbled in crayon, litter the ground and fly through the air as The Grim Squeaker attacks Snypiuer with all the fury of a rabid hedge hog on crack! Screams fill the air (once again, from Snypiuer) as the fight rages across the field. (Actually, it's more of Snypiuer running back and forth screaming, "GET HIM OFF! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE TINIEST AND FLUFFY OF ALL CREATION! GET HIM OFF!" - which leads us to RULE 11: Once a contestant enters the field of play, said contestant MUST complete a MINIMUM of one attempt at one event. With NO assistance. Contestant will NOT be allowed off the field until a MINIMUM of one attempt at one event is COMPLETED. EXCEPTION TO RULE 11: Contestant will be allowed off field IF contestant MUST be CARRIED off. Because of RULE 11, it is strongly advised that a contestant REREAD RULES 1 & 2 BEFORE TAKING THE FIELD!) Somehow, Snypiuer gets in a lucky shot, setting The Grim Squeaker off balance for a brief moment! Taking advantage of this, Snypiuer grabs The Grim Squeaker and makes the most perfect punt ANYONE has ever seen! The crowd goes wild! Cheers fill the air! Banners fly! Snypiuer screams! - as he realizes that The Grim Squeaker is attached to his leg and whaking at him with his scythe! The punt was perfect, but The Grim Squeaker never went anywhere! He latched onto Snypiuers' leg and it was Snypiuers' hat that went sailing down field! Hopping around on one foot and trying to shake The Grim Squeaker off the other, Snypiuer screams, "GET HIM OFF! I MADE AN ATTEMPT! GET HIM OFF!" After an extended conference and much more of Snypiuers' screaming, The Grim Squeaker is pulled off a shredded Snypiuer, who is carried off the field. An annoucement comes over the loud speaker: "Pennites, Snypiuer made a valient attempt, but was unnsuccessfull! This will cost him in the points ranking! OUR NEXT CONTESTANT IS. . ." The Grim Squeaker waits mid-field.

RULES: 1 - The Grim Squeaker is NOT just going to LET you use him as sporting equipment! 2 - The Grim Squeaker is a POWERFULL being (he's the friking Death of Rats - YOU ever try to kill a rat? Rats FEAR and WORSHIP him!), respect that. 3 - Use The Grim Squeaker as sporting equipment. 4 - 3 events with 3 attempts at each, to be attemptted in any order over any amount of time. 5 - Main goal of each event is to actually, somehow, complete the event - using The Grim Squeaker as a football (AMERICAN). 6 - REREAD RULES 1 & 2! 7 - PUNT: The player will attempt to punt The Grim Squeaker down field where several targets are placed - accuracy is most important in this event. 8 - PASS: Same as PUNT, but throwing The Grim Squeaker. 9 - KICK: The player will attempt to kick The Grim Squeaker through a target down field from the greatest distance away from the target the player is able to. 10 - REREAD RULES 1 & 2!

Dear Pen Diary, An army of reality dust bunnies assailed my kingdom, driving before them countless hordes of DM/MD's. The horrors committed by the DM/MD's - acts so vile, despicable, disgusting and obscene. . . It's hard to go on (Mr. Moog has been in a catatonic state, muttering "puppies, too many puppies" over and over) The acts committed by the DM/MD's were so unspeakable, so horrific, so obscenely vile, that they shall NEVER, EVER, be thought of (let alone spoken of) again *shudder*. Partially recovered and making an attempt to rebuild. Just thankfull for surviving.

Tommy the Kat had many a story to tell But it was a rare occasion, such as this, that he did... (Primus) Just got ready to start up again and my AMAZING run of continuous bad luck again kicked up. Suffice it to say, Snypiuer isn't getting back to work any time soon. Oh well. It seems that there really isn't that much of a decrease in Pennites that look but don't post. Lots of lurkers. Most posts get a decent amount of reads. Look back around 2005, there was another "What happened..." type post. The Pen is still here. Even those that say they "moved on" or lost their muse still return, lurking. That is NOT a bad thing. Every now and then, they post. A reply or a sudden inspiration. Think ALL this has been said before, but I think it's important to repeat. Pennites may "move on", start their own blogs, but The Pen is their home. They return to the old neighborhood. How many of their blogs have a PROMINENT link to the Pen? How many promote the Pen to people who read their blogs? I personally don't see the appeal of blogs, they remind me too much of the old Bulletin Board System of the early internet (here's to you 'Control' in Colorado Springs - 1985). But, that's me. Yet, isn't a "forum" like the Pen, technically, a community blog? What if there was a Mighty Pen on Myspace that featured select posts once a week or month that pointed back to this site for those interested in reading more or becoming a member? Has this been considered by the few Pennites who consistantly post (and I MUST say, the one's we ALL owe a debt of gratitude to for their dedication - a VERY humble and heart felt 'thank you' from this unworthy hypocrit of a lurking Pennite)? Just a few thoughts.

Dear Pen Diary, Figure out postal system. . . hhmmm. ANYWAYS, Real life has been VERY annoying and time consuming as of late. Most frustrating, since I have The Grim Squeaker Games™ to introduce. MUST get priorities in order. Will do so THIS week. Honest. Really. El Diablo (neighborhood rooster that whispered esoteric secrets in ones' ear, if one were to take a nap on ones' front lawn) captured by animal control. As he was taken away, looked at me and whispered. . . something.

Once again, years of minute and subtle manipulation of reality - setting in motion small (yet crucial) events has led to what has just transpired between Wyvern and Cheer Mynx. All according to plan. . . While the Almost Reports' audience is plunged into darkness, the microphones stay on (Wyvern is unaware that all the hush-hush talk was heard by all). The audience then hears the following: Wyvern is so distracted by Cheer Mynx, that he does not notice the sudden appearance of several tears in reality and a full squad of Suicide Squirrels leaping through, until it is too late. Snuffles sudden hiss is drowned out by the spine chilling battle-cry of SQUEAKY! EEKY! EEKY! The fight is fierce and quick, with the SSS living up to its' name. Few survive, but Wyvern, Cheer Mynx and Snuffles are captured (with nothing more then some mused up hair - surprising, considering all the damage to Gyrfalcons' library and dead squirrels littering it). Wyvern nearly turns the tide of battle, until he sees Cheer Mynx and Snuffles tied up and cross bows pointed at them. A squirrel says, "Hold Almost Dragonic one, or your most precious gets it!" Wyvern lets out a mighty gasp, reaches desperately with his claws, then slumps his wings in defeat. . . and surrenders. Since there was a pile of geld behind Cheer Mynx and Snuffles (which Snuffles couldn't see) that three big guys, with hammers, were standing around (ready to smash it) - plus all the damage to the library (that Wyvern thought he just MIGHT have to pay for). . . well, we'll never know EXACTLY why Wyvern surrendered. A tear in reality appears and three large squirrels and Snypiuer step through. "Sorry it had to happen this way Wyv. But plans and machinations have their way of unfolding. I need you to broadcast something for me." After a lot of commotion of things being hastely cleaned up is heard, the cameras come back on. . . A very angry looking Wyvern appears and the tips of cross bows can sometimes be seen protruding at the edges of the screen. In a forced voice he reads, "Hello Pennitesss, in a previousss report, it wass reported that The Grim Ssquaeker wasss missssing. We have breaking newss, a video hasss sssurfaced." A video that looks like it was done on a handheld is shown: Static fills the screen and a voice can be heard above what sounds like a struggle, Voice one (V1), "Tie his feet to the chair!!" Voice two (V2), "SQUEAK!" Voice three (V3), "OWW! He bit me!" V1, "Come on Squeak, calm down!" V3, "OWW! He kicked me!" V2, "SQUEAK!" V1, "Just hurry!" V3, "O.K., I got him!" V2, "SQUEAK!" V1, "Good. Now slide him up to the desk. I'll get the crayons and post-its." V3, "You slide him!" V1, "Just slide him! The boss said to hurry!" The sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard. V2, "SQUAEK!" V3, "OWWWW!!! HE BIT ME AGAIN!" V1, "Quit whinning! Look Squeak, we're going to untie your hands so you can do your post-its. Just write what the boss said to write and don't give us any problems! Remember, we got you covered if you do. Don't make us have to get rough. The sooner we get this over with, the better. Untie his hands." V3, "YOU DO IT!" V1, "You big baby!" V2, "SQUEAK!" V1, "OWWWW!!!" The static clears and The Grim Squeaker is seen behind a desk (cross bow tips at edges of screen), he begins scribbling on post-its and showing them to the camera: H ello, just want to let everyone know i'm fine. E njoying some time to myself 'till the big annoucement. L et me tell you, i'm excited. P reperations are underway, as we speak. M entioned an announcement, should be coming anytime now. E xpect it soon !!! Static reappears: V3, "Did he?" V1, "The boss is gonna be sooo upset." V2, "SQUEAK" Sound of a struggle is heard: V2, "SQUEAK!" V3, "OWWW!!!" Wyvern reappears, with a look like he's thinking "What the??!" "Well, I guessss he'ss alright then." (If sarcasm could be seen, you would see it leaking out of Wyvern like sweat from a 5ft. 400lb guy wearing a scuba suit, on the 18th mile of a 21 mile run in Georgia. During the afternoon. In August. In the middle of a heat wave.) "Now a word from the perssson ressponsssible for all thisss, Ssnypiuer." Wyvern looks around with another "What the??!" look as applause is heard all around and Snypiuer enters. "Hi everyone! Hey Wyv. Glad to be here. As everyone can see, The Grim Squeaker is just fine. He's very enthused about our new venture and can't wait to participate. I will now OFFICIALLY announce, on behalf of the Official Ruling Body that May or May Not Officialy Exist in Perfigullumn OR Emgumphully over the Nimball™ Association (IF such an organization ACTUALLY exists), 'The Grim Squeaker Punt, Pass and Kick Games™'!" The sound of applause fills the room. "They will be held shortly and the rules will be explained on opening day." Wyvern pulls Snypiuer aside and asks, breathlessly (which was a LITTLE creepy), "Do you have anyone dissstributing your merchindissse or running the concesssion ssstandss? Marketing?! WHAT ABOUT MARKETING?!?" Snypiuer can just reply, "Uhhhh?" Wyverns' eyes glass over for a second, "That meansss no." He casts a spell and screams, "MELBA! GET ME A CONTRACT!!!!" He then turns to Snypiuer, "BUDDY! Pal 'o mine! You look like you need to concern yourself with. . . bigger thingsss. I'll take it from here." Snypiuer gives a "Uhhh, O.K.?" as Wyvern guides him off camera. With geld reflecting in his eyes, he turns a toothy grin to the camera, "You heard it folksss! Almossst Dragonic Enterprissesss - inconjuctionwiththeNimball™Asssociation, will bring to you 'The Grim Ssqueaker Punt, Passs and Kick Gamesss™'! Sstay tuned for more updatesss!" Some how, a smiling Cheer Mynx is by Wyverns' side, wearing a 'Grim Squeaker Punt, Pass and Kick' cheerleading outfit. As the cameras are fading out, Wyvern is heard as he walks over to Snypiuer (with a claw full of legal papers), "It'sss been TOO long!" Snypiuer can be heard saying, "Uhhh???"

Dear Pen Diary, Someone released a bunch of reality dust bunnies. I was unprepared. Beaten sensless and left for dead (tax time BIIITTESSS!!!!). Unsure where they came from, but may be tied to my three squirrel companions. Sent them out in search of dust bunnies the other day. Reported an incident with a cabbage, but covered their tracks by framing a raccoon. Also mentioned an encounter with some non-reality dust bunnies. Filled them up with cookie dough and baking soda, then sent them on their way. Sent Nanotoknonnen a fruit basket. . .pre-emptively. . .just in case. Word is out The Grim Squeaker is missing. Everything is right on track. Wyvern is now key. Figure out "postal system"?

As the Death of Rats leaps through the air, he realizes too late. . .it's a trap! After a mighty fight - with many a SQUEAK, flurry of obscenity scribbled posts-it notes, fish scales and amputated fins - the Grim Squeaker is captured. Snypiuer sees all his plans coming together.

Dear Pen Diary, So far, the hunt for reality dust bunnies has been unfruitfull. Muse remains captive. Mr. Finnigan (the oversize rat that roams the neighborhood and cleans up oil stains in driveways while everyone sleeps) offered his condolences for my failure and then presented his tail to be scratched - for luck (this works because Mr. Finnigan is half Lepercaun - don't ask how). Still no dust bunnies. BUT!!! After years upon years upon years of careful planning and subtle manipulation of the space/time continuum. . . The Grim Squeaker, Death of Rats, Priest to the Left Side of the Priest to the Left Side of the Priest to the Left Side of the Priest to the Left Side of the Priest to the Left Side of the Great God, Pharaoh Nanotoknonnen. . . has fallen into my trap! A new day of sports entertainment dawns!!!

Dear Pen Diary: Today the pork rinds made fun of me, while the cheese puffs marginalized me. A hairless chinchella mocked me as I endeavored to make myself take responsibility for my extreme apathy. Have decided to post more often, despite the ridicule from the neighbors' dyslexic (sp?) cat which believes he is a South American earth pig. Need to find my muse. Thus, I will be stalking dust bunnies for the foreseeable future. Everyone feel free to add your own entries. That's what a public diary is for.

Thanks for the advice Rev. But, if I bring fish oil home, the fish get the wrong idea. Then I have to put up with really suggestive remarks and looks that. . . well, frankly. . . make me feel REAL uncomfortable in my no-no place. You COULD say it's my own fault, you make ONE mistake! You have a little too much to drink, come home, there are the fish. They're very understanding and friendly, one thing leads to another and the next thing you know, you wake up and think, "Oh no! What did I do?" Of course the fish are understanding and supportive, "Things happen, we got carried away." they say. They agree that it should be forgotten as if it never happened, but they end up being passive aggressive and constantly trying to pressure you into 'things' then, apologizing and saying they couldn't help themselves. Then one day, you're tired and they offer a massage and you find their fins rubbing your shoulders. . .well, I don't have to tell anyone HERE what happens next. We ALL know how manipulative fish can be. ANYWAYS, let's not dwell on it. Think I'll try to see what Snypiuer has been up to while I've been away.

A distant rumbling is heard and Wyvern's office trembles. It seems as if darkness is creeping in. A flash of light and smoke fills the room. When it clears, a single balloon floats in the center of the room with a note tied to a string below it. A weak squeak (like the noise from one of those party noise makers you blow through and it unrolls) is heard as Wyvern reads the note: HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY!!! (the end is near) Cordially, Snypiuer The balloon pops and dramatic, eery music fills the room - duhduh DUUHHHH!!! http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif

Where have I been? Why haven't I posted? These seem to be the questions each of us should (must?) answer. I've been lurking. I come on and read, but don't log in. Seemed to lose my muse also. While there have been a few mentions of what/where a muse is/can be found, the fact remains that muses are held captive by reality. And everyone knows that reality hides under the furniture - since reality shares a remarkable resembalence to dust bunnies. One must sneak up on reality in order to catch it unawares, pounce upon it, beat it within an inch of it's life and (dare I say) waggle an admonishing finger at it, before it will release a captive muse. This in no way means, that the muse will be grateful and inspire it's savior. They are fickle that way. I haven't had the will for such an endevore. Medical issues have kept me out of work for awhile (hoping to get back to work soon), this isn't an excuse for not posting, in fact, I should be posting daily. Really don't know why I don't. Pretty sure I'm depressed. Took an on-line depression test (the extent of my bordome that led me to do this, depressed me) and I scored high to very high on all types of depression except for two. Manic depression and post-partum. It was depressing not to score high/very high on manic depression, because it meant that I didn't have the joy of at least having brief episodes of exhilerating manicness. Since I'm a guy, not scoring high/very high on post-partum depression made me think, "Yay me!" - for a while, 'till I realized that, as a guy, unless one of my highly illegal and questionably ethical cloning, artificial life or reanimation experiments actually succeeds, I will never feel the joy of creating life (or of standing over my creation and screaming, "IT, IS, ALIIIVVVEE!!!"). This depressed me. 'Till I figured out that, without the experiments, I would have to squeeze out an object that was roughly 2 feet long and about as round as a grapefruit, through a very tiny bodily orifice. Once again, "Yay me!" I really should post. I've been wondering what Snypiuer has been up to.

Started role playing in mid/late 70's. I already had a vivid imagination and read fantasy, horror and science fiction. D&D was a way to share my imagination with others. It was as if the characters I loved had come to life. By co-creating D&D and bringing about modern day role-playing (military simulation being it's pre-cursor), Gary Gygax had a profound impact on my life. I only wish I had been able to thank him in person.

I went by the house that I grew up in. Wondering, what I may see on the streets and yards where, as a child, I played. Perhaps a little boy that, once, was me. Would I feel the same warm breeze upon my face? Smell the same fresh cut grass, soft beneath my feet? Would I hear familiar laughter, from yesteryears? Or see faces, left behind so long ago? But, when I looked upon the house which, as a child was so big and grand, I just knew there were parts of it I had never seen I found it small quaint Old and faded Nothing as I remembered it to be. As I stood there, I felt an emptiness - deep within me And a sudden need to cry. It was at that moment I realized, I had not come back for memories. I was there to tell my childhood goodbye.

This is why I post. The feedback is more insightful then I deserve. Most would not pick up on the arrogance, let alone the mockery. From both points of view, those who believe, have an arrogant view that Man is so special, that a Higher Being must have created him. I believe they would view the poems view point as ignorant and sinful - for it embraces the one unforgivable sin, "The sin against the Holy Spirit. To acknowledge God and then to turn your back on him." Those who do not believe, have an arrogant view that Man is so special, he can be God. I believe they would see it as an affirmation of their own beliefs. Can anyone imagine how arrogant and dramatic an individual would have to be to recite what I wrote? The self importance and drama would make William Shatner cringe. In the end, it's simple. I believe that there is no God - but the basic truths that a belief in a kind and loving God entails are beneficial to mankind. I do good because it is right. No reward awaits me. My sins are my own, I suffer their outcome without malice from a higher being. This is arrogance beyond mockery. The fact that there are those who see this humbles me. By the way, "Proud and Uncowed" there is no higher arrogance (which, to me, is humorous) then sophmoric belief that one can imagine, believe or even speak anything of supreme importance, that is truly original. It's all been imagined, believed and spoken an infinite amount of times before. What better way to express this then in the voice of a young idealistic individual who thinks they're oh so clever? (ever read the FIRST self important writings of just about ANY individual?) Thanks for reading and your insights. I appreciate the effort spent by any one who takes the time to read my pathetic attempts at poetry and their insightful and helpful responses always amaze me. Thank you again and when I have the time, I will inflict myself upon the kind denizens of the Pen without warning.

Can I be saved, When I have no Faith? Shall I be punished, For every sin? Might I be forgiven Those of neccessity. Suffer, Only for those of whim? Or, shall My one true sin, be the sin of Pride? If I chose to stand for Judgement, Head unbowed. Shall I be sentenced To eternal Torment? If I face Him. Proud and Uncowed? How can it be? If I am Created in His Image? How can "Coming unto Him, as He is unto Me?" Be a sin? Do We not expect Our children To Grow and Prosper? Become more then even We Dream to be? Why believe less of Him? So, if my lack of Faith Is wrong. And I face His Judgment For My sin. It shall be Eye to Eye. Straight and Proud. My sins My own. Defiant to the end. If I am right And this is All. My choices. Still are mine. With no Judgment In the End. I Pay for My sins now. 'Till the end of time.

Thanks. I really do appreciate it. Just want to say, the fact I made Tattered cry, well, my friend would be proud of me. And that makes me all warm and tingly inside. Now, I think I'll get a stick and poke Peredhil with it to see if I can get a few tears there. Nothing better then making people cry to make ones self feel better. Thanks.

Snypiuer slept. And as he slept, he dreamnt. Now, the dreams of the semi-devine are not, in any sense, normal. They are full of portents and premonitions. Visions of the past, present and future. Actions within the dreams of the semi-devine can, and usually do, have real and substantial consequences upon the waking world. Thus, Snypiuer was not unaccustomed to strange and bewildering dreams. This dream, how ever, brought great concern to the sleeping Demi-God. Within it, he saw visions of flames and heard the smaking of lips from a hungry beast. A stiffling heat seemed to press down upon him like a smothering blanket. Yet, he also smelled the succulent aroma of roasting meat. It drifted all about, bringing deep and cavernous rumblings from deep within the sleeping Demi-God's belly. Sensing the wrongness, Snypiuer woke himself. He awoke to find the large fireplace in his sleeping quarters stacked with large pieces of wood and a raging fire burning within. Flames literally licking out beyond it's confines. Perplexed, Snypiuer wondered how his bed had become so close to the fireplace and why the fire within was so large. Hearing a swishing noise, he looked down at the foot of his bed to find Mr. Moog (a rather large - about 2 1/2 feet tall and about as wide - squirrel. Who also happens to be a powerful mage in his own right and one of three of Snypiuers closest companions) using a mop to spread what appeared to be mustard on a giant hot dog bun. Realizing that Snypiuer had awakened, Mr. Moog quickly dropped the mop, tried to stand in front of the giant hot dog bun, all the while twiddling his thumbs, and nonchallantly whistleng and looking around innocently. He then ran out of the room as fast as he could. It was at this time that Snypiuer realized what had happened. The succulent smell of roasting meat came from him. Looking down, his worst fears were realized. Snypiuer had become: A WEENIE. Snypiuer rose from his bed and slowly dressed (It was rather difficult, considering he was now a giant weenie with weenie fingers and such. Not to mention, Mr. Moog's attempted cooking had caused Snypiuer to plump up. All of this making Snypiuer's attire to not quite fit. Yet, he managed.) In a voice, soft, yet commanding, Snypiuer said, "Pith, Silvia" and after a short pause, "Mr. Moog. Attend me. Now." In an instant, three seperate rips in reality open around Snypiuer and a squirrel of about 3 feet in hight steps from each. The rips then wink out of existence. These are Snypiuer's closest companions. Taking in the situation, both Pith and Silvia quickly surmise what has taken place and, with arms crossed across their chests' and feet tapping, glare at Mr. Moog. Meanwhile, Mr. Moog is the picture of innocence. Blinking wide eyed, with a "Why-so-ever are you looking at me in such a way?" look upon his face. "Forget it." Snypiuer says, "We go to fix this." Snypiuer rips reality and there before him are the doors to the Tavern. They slam open as he enters, followed by his companions. All is quiet. Everyone within, following the Demi-God with their eyes, as they feel the emense and ancient energies that pulse from his being. He slowly walks to the center of the Tavern. Stops. And looks around with a glare that would make a Demon Lord cower like a 7 year old girl thrown into a pit of rabid tigers. Then.... it happens. The entire Tavern bursts into maniacal laughter. Snypiuer is, of course, a giant weenie. Several patrons fall of their chairs and even more relieve themselves uncontrollably. Two patrons actually die laughing and one literally bursts a lung (He gets better. But, is now called Wheezy.) Snypiuer patiently waits for the laughter to die down. It takes a while. A very LONG while. When it is finally calm, Snypiuer addresses the crowd, "Funny. I know. But, this state will not last long. I have been punished for not being more attentive. I am now here to correct this indescretion." Looking around, he continues, "What you may not know, is that, within the pantheon of Gods, there is a place none other has claimed. I claim that place now. Let it be known, that from this moment on, I am the Lesser Devine Being of Outdoor Cooking. This form shall be my avatar. Along with Captain Keg (Snypiuer points at Mr. Moog who becomes a walking keg of ale. He finds this disconcerting. That is, until he realizes there is a hose with a spigot coming out of the top of his head. It then becomes disconcerting to everyone else in the Tavern as he begins to drink out of himself.) Senior Sauce (Snypiuer points at Pith, who suddenly is wearing a giant sombrero with 2 six shooters, an ammo belt and criss-crossing bandolears. All full of ammo. But, instead of bullets, this ammo shoots any and all kinds of sauces anyone could ever imagine to put on food. He begins to expertly shoot ketchup, mustard, and various other condiments at everyones food in the Tavern.)" Sensing where things are headed, Silvia makes a valiant (yet futile) attempt to flee. Pointing at Silvia, Snypiuer continues, "And Side Dish Sil (Silvia finds herself dressed in an apron with many pockets, from which she can produce any side dish imaginable. Mac and cheese, beans, potato salad, fried Grxl knuckles. The list is endless.) Together, we will bless those who give their all when cooking outdoors and punish those who take outdoor cooking lightly. Basically, the blessings and punishments will be the same. We'll show up, sit around and eat your food, drink your soda, etc. But, we will bring our own ale, in the form of Captain Keg. On a side note, I also claim the title: 'Spokes Cherub of Processed Meats'. Which, of course, will give me the slightly-less-then-semi-devine ability and right to sample any and all processed meats in my immediate vicinity.........for free." Everyone in the Tavern stares blankly at the turn of events and news, that now, they have to worry about devine freeloaders showing up at their bar-b-ques and picnics. Snypiuer bows and says, "Thank you all for listening. I will attempt to be more attentive in the future." Transforming himself into his normal appearance, Snypiuer then turns and leaves, followed by Senior Sauce and Side Dish Sil, who are rolling the now drunkenly comatose Captain Keg before them and through the rip in reality. Which winks out of existence behind them. A chorus of chuckles can be heard lightly upon the air. As one, the patrons in the Tavern look at eachother and all around, and say, "Aww, CRAP!!!"

Sociopath 100% Rational 42% Extroverted 85% Brutal 85% Arrogant Of other people, my age and gender taking test, I scored higher then: 87% on Rationality 48% on Extroversion 96% on Brutality 93% on Arrogance I'm on the edge in Extroversion. I could just be a smart ass. The statement that I would make a cunning serial killer is laughable. This just shows how far beneath me people are. To even believe that anyone could evaluate ME is a ridiculous notion, in and of itself. I'm perfectly harmless and, if I say so myself, just about the nicest, most trustworhy individual anyone could possibly have the pleasure to meet. I'm also very helpfull. I even give total strangers rides all the time. If you'd like, I could give you a lift. We just need to go out of the way for a bit so I can check in on an elderly friend who lives in a secluded wooded area and needs to be looked in on once in a while. Why don't you have one of these nice cold sodas to keep from getting thirsty on the way?

This is for my friend who died a couple months ago. Growing up, we were best friends. If I wasn't at his house, he was at mine. Though time and life had sent us in different directions, I considered him my brother. I can only hope he's watching me from some where and making fun of me for being such a sentimental wuss. I thought maybe "The Old Bridge" would do, for a goodbye, but it seemed inadequate. Pieces of James Taylor keep going through my head, the line "My body's aching and my time is at hand" seems to echo through my thoughts. But, I could never hope to write some thing as significant. This will have to do. Please excuse the next statement, but it was the way we talked to each other. This is for you, F@@ker. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Day the Heavens Cried ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Growing up You were more my brother Then my best friend. We shared secrets. Hopes. Dreams. We swore we'd stick together 'Till the very end. Then we set out Upon life's path. You on yours, I on mine. And though they wound their sperate ways. Still they crossed from time to time. And as we traveled, We had our ups and downs. Together and apart. Yet, through it all, You were always there. If not by my side, At least, Within my heart. Then came the day I got a call. Telling me you were gone. How did we drift so far apart, That I did not know, You had a pain so strong - You couldn't carry on? "He should have called." I said. "Maybe there was something I could have done." Then I thought, Why didn't I call? Why didn't I keep in touch? When it came to reaching out, Is my life so hectic, That I couldn't be the one? We'd stick together, 'Till the end. Both of us once swore. But it seems, As we grew old, I let you down. Oaths became words. And nothing more. Though I tried, I wasn't even there, When they sent you on your way. And while they said it rained, It wasn't rain that fell. It was tears. For, like me, The heavens cried that day.

BPO, can't volunteer. Not around enough to make it fair to everyone. Just wanted to point out that, I don't think any one REALLY wants to play the part of one of Peredhil's "Boys". Then again, you never know..............

The list: 1.A drunk, passed out friend. 2.Said friends private parts. 3.Warm bacon grease. 4.A hyper active, hungry Chihuahua. Under NO cicumstances are these objects to be mixed!!!! No matter how funny you THINK it will be. Do NOT ask how I know this, just accept it as fact!