(but I WANt a narrator! Oh please, please be my narrator, Betty! *puppy eyes*)
ego forceps ergo ego forceps
"Is that Ms Ephemera hovering over the croquet lawn?"�
"Indeed m'lud. She's marshalled all the haggle-dans. Missy-twigs and vale-nymphs from Claypole Woods. Apparently she intends to tear this house down and dance on the ruins."�
"Well, Chives, you'd better start the car, what? And pack my tennis things too"�
--- Joe 3Heads
|could be the Video who killed the Radio star.|
::joins alaura with the -puppy eyes-::
::nudges tentacle-y child::
-child does vaguely unsettling fish eye things-
lookit me, i'm postin! wheee!
A tentative step up into the market assured that this was 'real'. (Not at all like the last vision)
-Then it's here that the journey has been taking me as I follow the steps of the 'other me'.
Okay- THINK... if "I" were here, where would I most LIKELY be found? (As if tossing a coin between seeking out the perfect 'shish-ka-bob' which I myself have been dreaming of these last 2 days, or finding work in the theater in order to be able to purchase said shish-ka-bobs, I decided on the chicken before the egg.) I listened for the sounds of music and laughter to seek out the place where my twin might be found. (After all, food costs money regardless of which city or time it is being requested in.)
Hoping that indeed this 'other me' thought the way that I do, I made my way toward the sounds of the Playhouse, that was obviously a public, open air troupe performing slapstick to entertain drunkards rather than noblemen.
"Sigh---so be it then. If I can make it here, I can make it ANYWHERE! I just hope that "I" am on the same page as 'My other self'..."
The aromas making my mouth water- I hoped that there would be some actual work as well after 2 days with no food.
Awww Crappers Jim, I didn't include any of Mr. Neil's characters in there...
If Dweller still narrates on occasion- toss me an interactive character and I'll bump it back into play. ~Cheers!
And Now-- Back to Our Program Already In Progress
*pulls his club (baseball bat) from his back stepping into ring, blood seeps silently into his shoes as he prepares to prove his himself as a professonial bodyguard. The roar of the crowd echos through his head screaming of pain, and fear of defeat throughout his head. The other man grins wickedly, raising his mace; a crude creation; nails, rusted by blood jut out oddly from a nasty club....
(If there isnt a narrator how do he know what happens?)
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