Bien's crush learnt how to fly.
Bien went to follow her.
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Bien's crush learnt how to fly.
Bien went to follow her.
Bien already knew how to fly...
Heathcliff isn't back from being chased down by her crushes...her mother is worried since she such a pretty girl...but she can take care of herself...since she has a great head on her shoulders. She should be back in a few days though.
Bien doesn't know how to land though.
I can handle them, I'm not scared. I'm a tough cookie.
Bien will just stay up here then...
I'll keep an eye on you from up here.
Tough cookies crumble though.
Bien fell in a glass of milk. Cookies aren't much use after that.
I'll be fine. My crushes are nice anyway...
You're the cookie...
Choked to death because of a cookie.
PAM turned into a big cookie.
Bien, how did you know?
PAM wins the cookie and shares it with me. I get the whole cookie!
A dingo ate Maryd's baby.
The kid who sincerely died like that feeds you to a pack of dingos.
:cuss: :( :mad:
(I'm grumpy because whilst people enjoy becoming cookies, babies aren't tasty...)
Poor dingos...
I'll tell thee everything I can
There's little to relate
The Scarlet Shards of lostworld
Lie scattered at Heaven's gate
Pendragon, who wished to have the best birthday cake for his 50th birthday party, decided to sample as many as possible. Unfortunately, he tasted one too many cakes and passed out. Despite the doctors' best efforts, he could not be revived.
The police does not suspect faul play.
Scher, in coming to the rescue, caught a wingtip in one of the candles, tried to climb to get out of harm's way, stalled and came down at Mach 0.95 before asphyxiating in the icing.
Murder in the Bank
A bank clerk in Sheffield has been arrested this morning after stabbing a customer repeatedly with a letter opener. The customer, Mr Dafydd Manton, was declared dead upon arrival at the hospital.
The clerk, who will not be named for legal reasons, said to have struggled to spell his customer's name correctly but failed repeatedly, receiving loud protestations from Mr Manton, which caused the attack on Mr Manton. He was heard screaming, "I'm dyslexic for God's sake! Why can't you spell your name as David just like anyone else?"
The police is not looking for any other suspects.
Sher, suddenly finding herself in a place she didn't wanna be was mugged by a group of strange looking people who seemed to walk right out of "The Arabian Nights". She failed to survive her ordeal. Services to be held tomorrow, Friar Pentuck of Robin Hood's Merry Men officiating. Sher is dead, long live Sher!
Pendragon, mistakenly thought by many Welshmen to be the King, Uther Pendragon, but without a round table, was kidnapped today by the Welsh Language Society, and taken to the national Eisteddfod in Glyn Ebwy. On discovering that Mr Pendragon actually spoke with a slight trans-Atlantic twang, and that he thought Glamorgan was a part of Virginia, he was taken to the streets, and there pelted to death with daffodils, leeks, pictures of Max Boyce and small models of Gareth Edwards.
Dafydd is no longer with us, dear Forum members.
It's believed that his productive life was cut short due to an over-dose of endless love, which was a recurrent topic in his poems.
The funeral bell tolls for Scher
The Pièce de Résistance was in fact resisted and died in the ensuing fracas
Let's revive.
Please scan the first pages of the thread to find how to play it!
The beloved Forum member, Pendragon, who was a member for almost 8 years, has been taken away from us and his family only too soon.
It has been reported that Mr Pendragon was attacked on his way home on Tuesday evening by a Sworddragon and fatally wounded. Upon his arrest, the Sworddragon seemed remorseless and stated that he did what needed to be done: "I had to settle the argument over whether it is the sword or the pen stronger... We all know now."
Despite Sworddragon's claims of superiority, Mr Pendragon will be missed forever in the literature circles.
Scheherazade ran out of ideas on the thousandth night.
Calidore, who was sentenced to flogging by the Council of the Another Creative Game for not dedicating enough enthusiasm to the game and contributing for detail-lacking, yawn-inducing and adjective and adverb-barren posts to the game thread, has survived the flogging but, unfortunately, could not the shame that has come with it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Calidore
May you rest in peace.
Here lies Scher. The news reports say she was an innocent bystander caught in the cross fire of a bank robber gone horrible wrong. However, the grape vine is a buzz with the news that the nefarious and ruthless leader of the South Side Bad Lads has gone missing. Coincidence?
We regret to announce the passing of papayahead, who, in an ill-advised attempt to determine whether she would rather be shot or stabbed in order to answer a question in another thread, succumbed to self-inflicted stab and gunshot wounds, which, though not immediately fatal, resulted in secondary infections in a particularly unhygienic hospital where necrotising fasciitis and MRSA had established themselves. Rumours that she was subjected to testing with unauthorised weaponised bacteriological agents by a clandestine military laboratory, are completely without foundation.
Signed, The Government.
Hawkman, sadly, has plummeted to earth after attempting to read aloud his entire entry above in one breath and suffocating.
Aaaand again!Quote:
Originally Posted by Scheherazade
;)
Sadly, Scher was a victim of an alleged school shooting in her classroom. We say "alleged" because no weapon was found, no one had power burns on their hands, and the windows were closed...
It is with sadness that we report the passing of long-time LitNet regular Pendragon, who was found floating face down in a deep pool of well justified disgust at the the ways of the world. Mr. Pendragon was an astute critic of his times and the founder of many games threads. Pope Francis has announced that he will be spending an unusually long period of time in Purgatory for both of these achievements. We will miss him.
Poor, poor, Pompey Bum. We have been notified of his unexpected demise at the hands of an unedited, multi-volume complete Plutarch plummeting towards his big toe. Though the wound was slight, the infection was not, and we, the members of LitNet, will miss both his astounding erudition, and his puns, which were always of the highest quality.
Financial donations to his wife at this difficult time are currently being accepted, and may be given by clicking on the PayPal link which has appeared on your profile. In addition to administering his estate, and therefore collecting said donations, I will be editing his soon-to-appear magnum opus.
Yours,
Kinbote.
It is with only a slight sense of giddiness, hysteria brought on by excessive grief, no doubt, that I inform the LitNet world that our beloved poet Lykren entered Immortality today; and after asking several angels out, was informed that he was sweet but they were busy. Lykren's cause of death is still being investigated, although police have not ruled an overdose of gentle whimsy, perhaps mixed with a bottle of two of youthful angst. Lykren's encyclopedic knowledge of music, art, and literature was probably only matched by the raw but subtle power of his verse. I say "probably" because I never saw any of it, did you? But his song will echo always in our hearts. He was a truly good man, and such are scarce in this world. Fly now, poet! We will laugh together again some day.
I am sad to inform fellow members of the eruption of Eyjafjallajökull in Iceland, in whose vicinity our well tolerated member Pompey Bun was reciting, when he was buried in volcanic ash. He had written the great Icelandic novel of the 21st century after being there for only a fortnight. Sadly, the manuscript was destroyed by the ash. He has retold it to the residents of Valhalla, though.
It is with shock and dismay that I report the tragic passing of North Star, the grandson of Ringo Starr, who was eaten alive during the recent reindeer attacks that have plagued Santa's Kingdom all season. North was the first LitNetter to hail from Santa's remote industrial outpost, and brought a fresh perspective to our lives, even if none of us had really ever heard of Pentii Saarikoski. Nakemiin, North, and kiitos! We won't forget you!
Pause, friends, and reflect; for our comrade, known to us only by the moniker 'North Star,' has ceased to be our guiding light. Whilst gathering cloudberries one fine Finnish morn, and humming Schnittke's Concerto Grosso softly to himself, the effects of a Gyromitra esculenta specimen suddenly caught up with him; though they were cooked, it was not enough. Memorial services will be held on Sunday; present will be a variety of pop stars whom he could have dated, and the walls of the Church will be decorated with the Thomas Kinkaide paintings he never spoke of, but was surely fond of.
A tragic case of J-pop toxicity is devastating a small community of well read Internet weirdos this evening. Lykren, a young poet and sometime hipster, was discovered earlier today on the floor of an undisclosed karaoke parlor, repeatedly muttering "PONPON way way way, PONPON way," and occasionally adding, "Hooray!" Witnesses state that as the end neared, the young man raved deliriously of transparent plastic miniskirts with little flowers on them and brightly colored stuffed animals of indeterminate species. Mr. Lykren was a fixture at the Literature Network Internet site. "We tried to warn him about what perky Japanese girls could do to his health," insisted a site friend and pompous, moralizing classicist who asked not to be identified, "but after Flavor of Life his soul was gone."
"At least he died with a smile on his face!" added an young Canadian, dressed for some reason as a hobo.
[Pentti Saarikoski]
I weep for Lykren—he is dead!
No more poetry flows
From his head.
His mortal coil
is stored
in the shed.
He disappeared in the eve of spring.
The books were broken, the book-stores deserted.
Poor chap - he never read the I Ching.
Yeah, yeah. At least it doesn't have the two dots.Quote:
Originally Posted by North Star
It does the way you spelled it ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Pompey Bum
Two members of the notorious literature club 'LitNet' were found dead on opposite sides of the world this morning. Mr. Star of Finland and the unfortunately named Mr. Bum were both victims of overly-strenuous translation tasks, Mr. Star's being to explain the meaning of the word epäjärjestelmällistyttämättömyydellänsäkään to his American counterpart, and Mr. Bum's to communicate the essence of σωφροσύνη to his Nordic partner-in-crime. Investigations are currently being conducted safely in Esperanto.
Finnish wunderkind found dead in the wake of a heated debate about the nature of reality with a soon to be identified American subjectionalist. Witnesses have stated that after asserting the reality of an objective material world, North Star became confused and disorientated while participating in his daily chores and artistic endeavours; "if my eyes aren't real how can mirrors be real?" he was often heard to remark quite profoundly as he swayed back and forth in the sauna. Though a bespectacled classicist attempted to alleviate the Borgesian philosophical queries (raised in our beloved star's mind by the aforementioned American) with suggestions of good, solid, reading material (Plutarch, Cicero, Thucydides, erc) it was to no avail, and our North Star succumbed to the absolute undefinable nature of reality by spontaneously combusting on April 24, 2015. Surely he will be missed and his passing will serve as a reminder to all of us about the dangers of philosophizing on disreputable message boards.