Beguiling the Black Throne by DamonWakes, literature
Literature
Beguiling the Black Throne
Girth Loinhammer was not a fan of this new-fangled internet thing. Everywhere he looked, people were gawping at tablets and squinting at phones. Very slyly, he leaned over to check what the barfly next to his left was looking at. “Super Cute Duckling Thinks Carrot is Best Friend,” read the massive headline on the tiny screen. Girth peered over the shoulder of the drunk to his right. It was a YouTube video about cats with boobs.
Girth settled back into his seat at the bar, adjusting the spiked leather straps of his torturer’s uniform. He’d sure like to find out where the internet lived and give it a piece of his mi
“No more roadworks, no not nada! No more roadworks, this is Sparta!”
“Ugh.” Xerxes slapped his royal palm to his royal forehead. “Seven hundred Thespians. You’ve got seven hundred Thespians with you and that’s the best chant you can come up with.”
“What do we want?” shouted Leonidas.
“No highway through Thermopylae!” came the crowd’s response.
“When do we want it?”
“Never!”
Xerxes turned to the head secretary of the Department for Whipping People. “Did you tell them that the construction of ‘Hoplite S
“Did you remember to pack the vorpal cheeseknife?” enquired the March Hare.
“I thought you had it,” yawned the Dormouse.
“Brillig,” grumped the Hare. “Just brillig. How are we supposed to cut the manxome cheddar now?”
The Dormouse had no answer to this.
“We can’t possibly do without cheese,” put in the Hatter, “when we’re all crackers.”
Everyone groaned, except the Dormouse, who instead began to snore.
“I say,” began the Hare. “Jubjub Bird? Could you be a dear and fetch the vorpal cheeseknife?”
“
“You call that a knife?” growled Jareth. “This is a knife!”
“I think you’re in the wrong Bowie fanclub,” said Jean, slicing lemons at the bar.
“ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz” snored Ziggy.
“Ah, nuts.” Jareth plonked his knife down on the bar and looked around. There certainly were rather more spacemen, goblin kings, and spiders from Mars than he’d been expecting. “When’s the next bus to Crocodile, Dundee?”
Jean pull
Thrug held aloft his creation, so that the whole tribe might see. “Thrug make sharp rock!” he proclaimed. “Sharp rock must-have! One every hovel!”
There were impressed murmurs from the tribe as a whole. Fruh, in awe of this new development, leapt forward, brandishing a handful of precious shells. “Shut up and take Fruh money!”
Thrug gleefully made the exchange. “Thrug entrepreneur! Reinvest Fruh money! Make economies scale!”
“Thrug fool!” cried Ludd, from the back of the tribe. “Thrug rock anger gods! Affront rock essential bluntness! Doom all!”
“
“I think you know why I’m here.”
The merchant stared at the figure in his doorway. In a way, he’d been expecting this visit for many years. However, it was not exactly as he had anticipated. “Shouldn’t you be speaking in all caps or something?” he asked.
The robed skeleton stared blankly at him. “Meh,” it shrugged. “It’s been done.”
“It’s just that caps would be a lot easier to...”
“Silence, mortal,” interjected Death, very quietly. “I have come to claim what you owe. It is...inevitable.”
The merchant shra
The frosted glass door creaked as Rick Rottweiler pushed it open. “Oh,” he said. “Is Mr. Haddock in?”
“You’re looking at him, kid.” Jack Haddock ashed his cigarette, adjusted his fedora, then poured out two glasses of whiskey. It was a trifecta of Private Eye clichés. Also the neon sign hanging over the building cast artsy shadows through the half-closed window blinds.
“Sorry.” Rick sat down in the proffered chair. “For a minute there I thought you were a herring, rather than a haddock.” Even to Rick’s sensitive nose, most fish tended to smell the same: fis
The Henge was a marvel. Where so much in the Alterworld was chaos and madness—adaptation indistinguishable from aberration—here was order and sense. This was an object with meaning: a function to perform, a message to be discovered.
I lifted the mouthpiece of the radio to my lips. “The structure is approximately eight feet in height and between thirty and fifty in diameter. Difficult to be say without better illumination. It appears...” man-made would be hideously inappropriate, “deliberately assembled.”
I walked around the perimeter of the Henge, apparently a perfect circle. It would be difficult
Not Suitable for Childrens Under 3 Years by DamonWakes, literature
Literature
Not Suitable for Childrens Under 3 Years
Doctor Doomenschwarz peered at the instructions one more time, screwdriver at the ready.
Thankyou for purchase neutron sky chariot with world dominations. For safety attention, remember observe many directories enumerated the following:
1. Apply in the orientation not face yourself.
2. Not install in the location where humidity or temperatures extoll 35 dungarees or 22 percent irrespective.
3. Contents radiation and hazardous material scatter under pressure. Not suitable childrens under 3 years.
4. If leave unattended without use long time remove store batteries and separate.
Okay. That all sounde