The Portrait of Zool

More dignified than the Pen? Not hardly! Welcome Winged Globe! :woot:

Gwaihir and i have finished! You can see it here.

Miserably the young hippo dragged his sodden grip out of the jungle and dropped himself into a chair. The makeshift inn was little more than a large hut with a badly thatched roof. He instantly felt sleepy, the oppressively dark and humid environ of 'The Grotto' enclosing around him as seductively as a lotus at sunset. Perhaps this would blunt the aching rejection in his heart, he thought. He saw enlightened saints pursuing forgiveness in luke-cold libations. He saw a Lumbering mosquito humming and buzzing through the towering masts of a midgets arm hair. A raspy jukebox sputtered in the corner, filling the atmosphere with hallucinatory vibrations. An ant on the bar sized up an olive, then crawled off having grievously decided its problems were unfairly immense. He ordered a drink. Idly watching events unfold he wished he were the ant, of course - the grass is always browner on your side of the fence. He took a sip of the drink the waitress handed him, only gagging a little. She was kind of cute, he thought. The gods leered down at the waitress, almost satisfied her promise would never be fulfilled. They had watched her very carefully, that one, out of pure jealousy, but it now appeared they had succeeded, through such devious trickery and manipulations as only gods could manifest, in narrowing her identity to nothing but a burning need for nicotine and alcohol. One bleary eyed sadhu turned to the midget, and said, "I once held the secret of peace on earth." The midget didn't look up, but replied, "I sprang from the navel of Zeus. So what." The man sat in silence for a moment, then stated, "I could kill you where you sit." The midget, still without looking up, said, "That doesn't sound very peaceful to me." The possibility of a brewing fight alarmed the hippo's loamy soul. He scanned the area looking for solace, or perhaps some comfort in food, but the waitress was out on a smoke break. He retreated from the bar, clutching his drink and suit case. "The law of the jungle reigns," he said. There was no reply. The old suitcase wasn’t any better at carrying conversations than tunes. The hippo finished his drink, and his second, and his third, and found his surroundings transformed. The juke box became a throbbing orchestra, working a powerful spell on his feet. He danced around the sodden patrons. It was the undulating need of a barren soul. No one cared. The song finished. The hippo staggered towards the snack bar. "Food! I want food!" Also, his suitcase was missing. On the bar was an undrunk drink and a full pack of cigarettes, crumpled savagely. The hippo wondered numbly what it all meant. The planets swung eternally on their gravitic gimbals. 2847 light-years from Terra, a minor star went inexplicably nova, but no one in that room could hear it over the jukebox - only the ant.... and the gods, despite their screaming rage.

Good to see you drop by Psimon.

ROFL! Thanks!

Reading back through the thread I am somewhat confused about when the contest ends. Could someone clarify that please? Gwai and I are very close to finishing our entry, I hope it's not too late!

*Guffaw*

Yikes! The triple whammy! Whadda B-B-B-day! :woot:

How did this get past me? Anywho, still wishing you a belated happy B-day.

This guy used to slay me. I had no idea of his personal struggles. http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?...BAGLHC1M8N1.DTL

Brilliant!

Good stuff!

Happy happy b-day Rev!

*Wrings his hands in anticipation* "Sweet!" :woot:

Let's be a team Gwai!

This does sound interesting... I'll play. Sign me up - partnerless as of yet.

Mary worked for my daughter.

How many boards did Nimball migrate to?? Nim would be proud.

Very excellent! Also a good intro to a novel! Clean it up with a little editing, set some background, and fill out your main character a bit, if I may say so... It could be done.

Holy double-deuce Batman! It's another fiendish almost-dragonic plot to alleviate Pen patrons of gobs of geld! But Happy B-day anyway! :woot:

I must admit though, as a technique it works well at expressing raw emotion. I suggest an entire book of poems of run together words, each exploring a different aspect of modern life - the conflicts, the heartbreak, the rage. Reading it is like absorbing a cubist painting, semi-intellectual, but with the structure subconsciously coloring between the lines. Call it "Pressures". It'll sell.

The phrase "Best friend with benefits" was popularized a few years ago in Alanis Morissette's pop song "Head over Feet".

Supercalicongratulations Salinye! Hmmm... name... umm.... Mary. Well, works for my daughter...

Zool raises to protest, but is quickly tackled by two enourmous and impeccably dressed guinea pigs. They slap duct tape over the portrait's mouth and wrap rope around the frame horizontally, apparently out of habit. Then they slam the full-sized standing portrait feet-first into an elongated metal tub and begin mixing the concrete. "Mmmmm! MMM!" said Zool, struggling against the ropes. "Id'll go easia' on ya if youse don't struggle," Nuncio says lazily as he opens another bag of Ready-Mix.

Wow! I can't believe (and am so glad you did!!) you saved all those Archmails! http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif Now that brings back memories! What a great time we had - so exciting. And your rap is (still) da bomb!