FSN Goes to the Pantdraken

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Oh dreary dear!

[Techno]

 



Cheers - Phil

[Tawa]

Oh lord.... 

[d_Guy]

This is getting good!

Is there a charge for reading this that I don't know about?

Like when you take one of them tiny little liquor bottles out of the fridge in your motel room?

[fsn]

The only cost is that sometimes you may end up ... in the story.

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

And to your sanity!

[Sandinista]

Am I showing my age by admitting I thought of Una Stubbs as the "boy"?

Cheers
Ian

[Techno]

Ian.....Yes ! 

The only cost is that sometimes you may end up ... in the story.

Far too late for me to worry, then.

Cheers - Phil

[Orcs]

Unfortunately for my sanity this is getting addictive.

[d_Guy]

The only cost is that sometimes you may end up ... in the story.

As I look around I am a mere ranker (and dang few of us there are too!) - cannon fodder - used to the concept of it always rolling down hill 
So - no worries 

[Duke Speedy of Leighton]

Don't think you'll be a ranker for long chap.

[Tawa]

As I look around I am a mere ranker (and dang few of us there are too!)

Enjoy it while it lasts! 

The only cost is that sometimes you may end up ... in the story.

*runs and hides!* 

[Westmarcher]

A ranker.

Dearie me. Now you've done it.

(I have a feeling something Chinese is about to be included)

[DanJ]

Truly inspirational stuff, makes one appreciate the potency of modern pharmaceutical preparations.

I'm just wondering, if I print out FSN's parable can I roll it out thin enough to get the whole magnificent work into the Mother-in-Laws Cracker?  It would keep her quiet for hours but then she might start asking questions

[fsn]

Scene 3: PO

FSN had been walking for nearly 20 minutes and the unwonted exercise was causing him some distress.

"Wait!" He gasped. "I need to rest." He sat down on a convenient box and/or sack (GR44). Bert sat on an adjacent sack and/or box and put a flame to a cigarette.

"Nothing to say Bert?" Asked FSN.

"Nope."

"Sure."

"Kallistra! Absolutely certain."

"No pithy stories?" Bert assumed a look of hurt innocence.

"Nah." Fortunately, the sullen silence that descended upon them was broken into by a great shout.

"You there! I say! You fellows! You ... yes! The British Paratrooper with Sten (BR11) and the ugly one!" The hailer was a large figure – FSN felt a spurt of recognition.

"Is that Ithoriel in the wimple?" Whispered FSN, as he carefully dabbed with the hankie again.

"I'm afraid so." Bert watched the motley group hurrying towards them. "And that's definitely Mad Lemmey dressed as the washerwoman, and could be Westmarcher in the Chinese frock, but I don't know who that is dressed as the harem dancing girl."

"Must be one of the new chaps. Could at least have shaved his belly." FSN sighed. "You'd think we could get a girl to be a girl."

"On this forum? You're having an Essex giggle. We only had Marie, and what became of her? Then, of course, there's the other one."

"The other one? Which one?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" The colourful quartet of transvestite gamers had closed to FSN and Bert now, and stood expectantly awaiting intercourse. (And by that I mean a chat – you dirty minded ...)

"Never!" Exclaimed FSN, carefully avoiding any more ejaculations until he could get the laundry done. "I'd have never of thought it.- of him especially. Jill from Dagenham?"

"True as I'm sitting here with a splinter up my BUM." FSN looked at Bert, who nodded that what he said did in fact follow the Dark Lord's (Mystic P) guideline on foul language. "Readers Wives, volume 4, Spring Edition. Look it up."

"I certainly will – would if I had a copy. Which I don't." FSN blushed slightly.

"Plenty of member will lend you a copy." At this, Lady Ithoriel, who seemed to be the leader of the colourfully, if not sexually-stereotypically dressed group, decided that she/he had been ignored enough.

"Enough!" Told you.

"Greetings!" Said FSN, in a cheesy, 1970's sort of way.

"Shut it, octopus face." Snarled the Lady Ithoriel.

"Yeah! Shut it!" Echoed Widow Westmarcher, fortunately without any attempt at an Asian accent. Washerwoman Lemmey laid a hand on the Widow's arm.

"I don't think you should be so ... well ... shouty." The Washerwoman spoke is a small, timid voice, then backed away as the Widow angrily shook off the restraining hand and glared at him/her.

"And you can stick a Skytrex right up your Ground Zero!" The Washerwoman shrank from the tirade, holding her washboard in front of her. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. FSN felt for her, but she slapped his hand and moved to stand by the duck.

"Wait! You never mentioned a Minifigging duck!" Snapped Bert. Sorry. Didn't seem important until now. *Sigh* The group of Pantdraken Dames were followed by a eight foot tall, white duck.

"Won't you introduce us to your friend?" Said Bert, quite obviously caring not a whit for the duck.

"This, said the Lady, is the newest member of our group. This is the flower of the mystic West Virginia. She is a cool as a mountain stream, as pure as clarified butter, and as wide as a Walmart aisle, if properly propositioned. This" dramatic pause "is d_Mary! A cadet – never been promoted."

"S'up!" Said FSN in welcome. D_Mary giggled underneath her face veil, and made as if to respond, but succeeded only in giggling again. Still giggling, she scuttled delicately to the Washerwoman who took her in her arms defensively and glowered at FSN as a perfect man-beast.

"Right. Nuff chat, " interjected the Lady "there's a wedding round here somewhere and I want food, booze and a good Tumbling Dice. If I wake up tomorrow in me own bed, and can remember what happened, then it's been a wasted night."

"Yeah. What she said." Echoed the Widow. Scratching her nethers with a painted nail. It was a 3" ringshank nail (A round nail with rings around its shank to make the fixing more secure. Use for tasks such as laying sub-floors and pinning exterior trim where the nail is unlikely to ever need to be removed) and the story of how the Widow came by the nail, and how it came to be painted is a curious one ...

"No time for that FOW." Interrupted the Lady. "You," she pointed a beringed finger at FSN, "the one who looks like my backside the night after a bad pint and a good curry."

"Yeah – stinky!" Added the Widow.

"We'll tell you what you want to know " offered Bert, "once you've sung us a song."

The four ladies went into a huddle for a moment.

"All right. But only one song, and no touching." Said the Lady.

"I wouldn't dream of it!" FSN felt a little bit of sick rise at the thought, but managed to choke it back.

"Yeah, well we would." Leered the Widow. "Especially her." She jerked a thumb in the direction of d_Mary, who giggled and spun on one foot, then giggled again.

The quartet took their positions. Surprisingly, the Washerwoman was thrown in front to sing lead. They all began to move in nearly rhythmic undulations of hips and shoulders. Feet apart, knees flexing as the Washerwoman began to sing in a remarkably fine contralto.

     "Yeah it's pretty clear I like World War II
     But I can make it, make it, like I'm supposed to do,
      'Cos I got the secret that all the boys chase,
     I can put flock in all the right places"

The dance was enthusiastically, if not skilfully done. They needed a little more practice there, but the singing was excellent.

     "Because you know I'm all about that base
     'Bout that base, no trouble
     I'm all about that base
     'Bout that base, with rubble
     I'm all about that base
     'Bout that base, corn stubble
     I'm all about that base
     'Bout that base... base... base... base"

The girls definitely had the chorus down – exquisite harmonies, even the bumping and grinding was more confident and emphatic.

     "I see the magazine workin' that Photoshop
     We know that HäT ain't real, come on now, make it stop
     If you got blue coated, infantry, just spruce 'em up
     with a fence they can carry from Bull Run to Little Round Top

     Yeah, my mama she told me "don't worry about the size"
     (Shoo wop wop, sha-ooh wop wop)
     She says, "add a little bit detail upon the side"
     (That bitty, uh, that bitty bitty)
     You know I won't stick no figure on without a wall
     Or a log or a shrub, oh go on, let's add it all

     Because you know I'm all about that base
     'Bout that base, no trouble
     I'm all about that base
     'Bout that base, with rubble
     I'm all about that base
     'Bout that base, corn stubble
     I'm all about that base
     'Bout that base... base... base... base"

At the end of the performance, FSN applauded. He noticed that he was the only one.

"Clap." He said to Bert from the corner of his mouth.

"I thought it was quite good." Retorted Bert, "but then again, I've got a tin ear."

"Right, Porcupine Breath, " said the Lady, waving a good sized fist under FSN's nose. "Which way to the wedding?"

"That way. You can't miss it. Said FSN, picking a random direction to point at.

The wedding party moved off. As she passed, d_Mary giggled and was gently pushed on by the Washerwoman.

"Have you got any laundry you need doing?" She asked, brandishing her washboard.

"Just this hankie." Replied FSN. He proffered it to her. The Washerwoman took one look.

"No skiddy undies?" She asked hopefully.

"Come on!" Roared the Widow from the front. The Washerwoman leapt nervously, then with a shy smile, hurried off to join the rest of her party.

"That Duck", said Bert conversationally, "has some really good ideas. Armies based on the signs of the Zodiac. Got a Canadian and a Mexican interested. One to keep an eye on." His discourse was interrupted by Techno, hurrying in at a great pace. He was wearing a gold leotard the wrong way round to expose his navel and nipples, and a red cape flowed around his bony shoulders. As he ran, his silver knee high boots flapped and he was forced to use one hand to keep his pearl encrusted tiara on his matted hair, the other clutching his air Moog.

"Hinchcliffe! He's gone the full Wakeman!" Screamed Bert. "Run!"

FSN and Bert bolted away from the crestfallen Techno, who consoled himself by trying to get his tongue around the finer points of "the Opening".

They came to a halt. FSN puffing like a steam train, Bert adding another fag to the assortment he was puffing on. He said something sotto voce. 

"What did you say Bert?" Asked FSN testily.

"All I said" said Bert "was that there seemed to be a great chasing about around here, and all for love. As the Normans would say, 'Hue and Coeur'."