|
Crispus Ferialis Divinius
|
|
|
| Take a stab... |
[Jun. 5th, 2006|06:21 pm] |
Here i am once again,and for you to be reading this then you must be as well, so all is well and good. Instead of giving you a run down of my week and all other manner of interesting things, I'll cut the crap and get right to what you're all really here for, my fabulous writings.
High up, on the pinacle of the tallest, most evil-looking peak in the Coiled Mountains, Fifi La ’Crème gurgled happily. ‘ Hee Hee Hee everything was gradually falling into place. The Underwoodling beasts were almost in position, the goblins, being so unbeleivably stupid hadn’t noticed a thing, and as for that pesky vigilante group, what was it ? Oh yes The-People-Against-Nasty-Tyranical-Stuff, he hopped their fighting was better than their acronyms otherwise they didn’t stand a chance, they didn’t stand a chance anyway but it would be more fun to watch if they thought they did.’ “I shouldn’t get over c-confident”, he chided himself, stutterishly, after all there was still along way to go till the plans’ completion. Also there was some alarming news from the Rumour Mill, that there was a new band of freedom fighters calling themselves SLF, Memo to self: fix Rumour Mill. But what was he going to do about these subversives. Ah, I know, I’ll send the Curlys to investigate. “CURLYS, IN HERE, NOW!”
“Er… coming, sur” came the slow, dull-whitted response, the Curlys were, on the whole pretty stupid, even for ogres they were twins but between them shared about half a brain, both of them stood at just over 10ft and had about 7m of curly brown hair. In the wild they would have probably been strangled after a few years (hey, it’s a harsh world) but fortunately thier mother was killed by some rampaging geese shorlty after birth (fortunately for them obviously not their mother, who presumably was not very happy about the death thing, or the rest of the world who now had to deal with them.). However whatever else they might or might not be, the Curlys were resilient, they had shown that by surviving so long. It was upon one of his many trips through the Fairly Evil-Smelling Forest undoubtedly, on his way to commit many atroucious deeds, when Fifi La’Creme first laid eyes on these ogres. He heard them long before he saw them, all through the forest a loud “WoooaaaaAAAHHH UGH! Ow” could be heard echoing off the many wooly trunks and boughs, and ,as he had nothing better to do he followed the noise into a clearing. Upon peering into the clearing, through a large clump of Staple Grass and saw what had to be the two most respulsive …things, he had ever had the miss fortune to come across. Both, heads bent down, horns cocked and ready, were charging full pelt towards, a massive, anceint tree, with twisted limbs sticking out at every angle. The tree, a towering Schtubenbaum, seemed to have this remarkable ability, to put sharp, thorny twigs in rather sensitive areas for the trolls. Slowly he extracted himself from the bush, and continued down the path, pulling staple from his robes, and wondering, as he did, about the curious turn of fate that let those two, cretins live, or that a plant as annoying as the Staple Bush to evolve, also what was for dinner.
oh, and seeing as i know how much you all appreciate myself I'll throw in a short story about pickles.
There once was a freindly little village of pickles. They called it Pickleton. In this village there were many interesting and odd pickles each with their own little idiosyncracies and fascinating life stories, but one of the most interesting and fascinating of the Pickleton Pickles was the village idiot, by the name of, Charles Featherington Whoop Whoop Tilly Squargle Pickle III jr. Mr Pickle III jr gave his adress as "the train station under ol' missus' Pinkleworthys cat, who lived on the junction of Danston Road and the old banana".
One day Charlie was out rubbing his pickley appendages against a tree, when the tree fell over, and he was crushed. Everybody thouht it was a tremendously funny joke. They all laughed.
The End.
Oh and this time more about actual context then spelling if you please.
Crispus the Magnificent |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[May. 30th, 2006|08:05 pm] |
Hokai, your lord and master Crispus here.
Well to start off I'm just going to get you back up to date with a story that ive been working (barely)on for a while now. Ill start from the start, as you would. Its working title is Waffles the Woozy. So as ive said before, i would be much obliged if you commented with tips suggestions etc. I would also appreciate it if you linked it or something to your own journals im just trying to get as much feedback as possible.
So here it is.
Waffles the Woozy
A new day was dawning , the sea was furry, the grass was a shade of pale vermillion and the sun was feeling exceedingly lethargic. It looked like it was going to turn out to be a perfect day, the beach-bums were surfing, the Toasterboids were roughing up a family of outlandish moles who refused to pay their protection money and the skreetlings were doing what ever the hell it is that skreetlings do. However, as was his want the sun was bored, I mean what are you supposed to do, in the sky, it was alright for the moons, there were enough of them for a full poker hand, but what was he supposed to do? Solataire? Cup-and-ball? Hide and seek, “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, Where’ve you gone? Whoop, there you are. Now you’re counting” Eh …No. So, with nothing better to do the sun, hummed tunelessly as he watched people on the ground below, scurrying about on their business like ants, “Hmm, I wish I had a magnifing glass”
Down on the ground, however things were not quite as peachy as they appeared from on high. As any number of large, repulsivly pungent ogres, trundled about hauling great carts loaded full of bits of scrap metal, swaying towers of dung plums, and occasionally some eggs from the Giant Gnargle bird prized so highly for making soufle, bound to some goblin village. Right across, The Plane, from Gobotown to Hobgobotown, and even right across the Plains of the Great Unwashed to Yobotown, the news was spreading, something was afoot.
Or afeet if, as was suspected it had anything to do with the infamous La’Crème. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[May. 27th, 2006|04:27 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  Enlightened | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Zauberflöte- Mozart | ] |
Me.
Greetings, I am your lord and master Crispus, and i shall be your guide through this interesting experience I've decided to set up the little account just for the purpose of putting out my writings and anything elses i feel like doing.
And because I am treating you to this experience I wish you to do something for me. When ever i put up a little paragraph of anything
I've written i would ask that you comment with some creative and constructive criticism. I don't really give a fuck what you say so long as it gives me something to work on. Understand, and it is for this reason that I will allow anonymous comments, and will probably not delete anything I don't like but for the love of ME don't waste your time insulting me because i dont give a fuck. I really don't. And anyone who actually knows me will know that my ego is so huge that it'd take a fucking miracle of hate to make a dent. So really, dont waste your time.
Graciously excepting your praises of thanks,
Crispus |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
wafflesthewoozy's journal