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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

jazz story (sort of ;)


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After careful consideration I decided to dare to ask membership of your noble guild. This is a little snippet originally ment to be part of a bigger short story, but I found that it didnt fit anywhere. After looking it over I thought that it was really a sort of story in itself. Sorry for the language, I am not a native english speaker.

 

 

Jazz

 

-Play for me.

Laying on your bed I caught a glimpse of something forgotten, your old

brass instrument, now semi-faded from extensive use.

-No

-play for me, please?

-No.

-Play for me and I wont leave you again.

Silence. Then you took the old instrument from its resting place in the corner and put it to your mouth. after what seemed like forever, the music. At first with discipline, ordered and uptight, but gradually shifting over to your own music, so free and full of you. Floating through the air between us, almost a sentient being in itself. I fell back on the bed, started to feel how the rhythm of my own heartbeat began to coincide with the rythm of the music.

 

Suddenly the music started to enter my bloodstream through my fingertips and moving towards my brain in a rhythmic pace. It started hitting me, with intoxicating pulsating streams. And for a fraction of a minute, you took my fear away.

 

I guess it must have been just before my eyes were closed that I saw you. You had turned away from me, but in the reflection from the brass I noticed a tear running down your left cheek. Then the music started to fade away, it felt like it came to a destination of some sort.

 

The instrument fell down from your face. Still not looking at me.

-you should play jazz, I said.

-go to hell, you answered.

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The stinky dwarf, seeing a new applicant entering the membership office just as he was leaving, decides to stick around to see what's new. On reading the new applicants work his violent tendencies jump to the fore.

 

"I oughtta bust his knee caps, and then chop off 'is bloody 'ands wit me axe! Writin' lyke thet, so smooth an' finished like, makin' me look bad an all. Grrr!" He thinks, fondling his heavy, battle-scarred, double-bladed axe. He bites back the urges, make a mental note to take an extra dose of his "medication" this evening, and then extends a somewhat dirty and calloused hand...

 

Gnarly Good job, mate. I'm sure the lizard will lyke it too. Yer writin' is much smoother in style then me own, it seems ta flow better an' such. Be seeing ye later then. *shakes Fox's hand vigorously, making him think the dwarf intended to yank his arm from its socket and then walks out the door grumbling to himself...*

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Oldfox stutters and goes a bit pale as Gnarlitch narrates the variety of violent methods that could be used to overthrow his brilliant writing, and nervously backs into a corner of the Office as the stinky dwarf's voice echoes gruffly throughout the chamber. The applicant then promptly blushes as he's complimented by Gnarlitch, purple shadows, and Ayshela in turn... and abruptly jumps in shock as what appears to be a golem constructed entirely out of percussion instruments crashes into the Office through the front entrance and creates a huge cacophony of noise in the process.

 

After the noise has ended and those who have gathered in the Office have finished protecting their ears, the musical monstrosity lifts it's harmonica visor with a triangle chime claw to reveal the familiar scaly visage of Wyvern. Snickering to himself evilly and untying the instruments from his torso one at a time, the greedy lizard hisses:

 

"Greetings Oldfox and all *clang* apologies for my *cling* excessive lateness *diiiinnng* ow *gong, clang, crash!*"

 

Oldfox and the others wince and cover their ears apprehensively as they notice Wyvern wavering due to several instruments falling from his tunic. They brace themselves, then let out a sigh of relief when the overgrown lizard regains his balance.

 

"Err *clink* as I was *clink, clang, clong* I was - "clang, crash!* Ahem, as I was saying, sorry for the long delay in getting here *dong-ong-ong-ong* I decided to cut down on the expense of buying bags by strapping all of these *ching!* instruments to my tunic, and didn't take into ac- *cong* -count how much these things weigh."

 

Unstrapping the last of the instruments from his tunic and breeches, the reptilian Elder breaths a sigh of relief and quickly scoops up Oldfox's application. Reading over the vignette carefully and nodding to himself, Wyvern grins and hisses:

 

"An excellent application story, Oldfox... say, would you be interested in purchasing any of these fine quality Almost Dragonic Brand Percussion Instruments?"

 

The greedy lizard points towards the large pile of dented cymbals, quiet gongs, and other disfunctional peculiarities that now lay on the floor.

 

"Since they're Almost Dragonic Brand, you know they'll play music that's full of oneself! (warning: may cause concussions, since they're actually cons...)"

 

Noticing the clear discomfort on Oldfox's face, the overgrown lizard quietly nods and sighs to himself before stamping his Pen application ACCEPTED.

 

;-)

 

OOC: An excellent application piece, Oldfox, and certainly ACCEPTED. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! :) Apologies for the extremely late response, I was very busy all last week and didn't find much time to post. I look forward to reading more of your works, and participating with you in collaborative projects. Once again, welcome!

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