The Portrait of Zool

LOL!

Actually, Tyrion is the Official non-member (see bottom of list): http://www.patrickdurham.net/themightypen/index.php?showtopic=7722 Of course, the system doesn't show him. I believe Jechum made up his 'enormous' post-count when we started the other Pen site as a bit of a joke - because he could. As for fix-it gnomes, I guess we'll have to fix that.

Been nice knowing you Wyvern - what a way to go! ;p

WOOT! Excellent story - 'cept I can't wait for the sequel! You GO guy!

(OOC: I am glad to see Conservatory style RP is not dead Wyvern. I applaud you. ) Everyone stood aghast at Wyvern's proclamation. Wyvern in turn grinned an oily grin and acted the part of someone who was just moving in, but in reverse. "Oh! And take that over there, and that.. and Oh yes, that large purple cushion looks expensive - out the door with it!" The thumping of Sorciere's assets hitting the floor was little compared to the sound of BelchFire's, but even that was drowned out by the collective dissension of the surrounding crowd. "How can you do this?!" an incredulous voice challenged, echoed by several muttered assents. "Well," said Wyvern, turning back to BelchFire and yanking on the parchment wrapped around him to spin him around like a top, "It says here, here, here, and oh! here here here..." The lizard appeared to the frustrated patrons to be pointing at random sections of parchment, which was spinning on the hapless form of BelchFire too fast to be read anyway, but Wyvern continued undeterred. "You know, it says pretty much everywhere after the words 'Wyvern's Rules' at the top that anything that is profitable in the Pen is mine, all mine! Isn't it GREAT!" Wyvern spread his arms in delight and grinned a fully toothed grin. His huge grin was met with... silence... that is until BelchFire spun into some chairs and went down with a crash. Everyone rushed to his aid. Outside, the breeze suddenly picked up and began to whip the branches of the trees from side to side, the clouds growing thicker and darker. The animals began to seek shelter... The huge purple cushion was snatched from the hulking men dressed in black. Before the semi-conscious BelchFire could be layed onto it, the men, helped by Wyvern, lunged to snatch it back. What ensued next was a massive tug of war between Wyvern and his thugs and every patron in the BelchFire. Outside, lightning arced across the sky in a massive boom of thunder. The south winds came, the north winds came, and in the middle was such a howl of boiling black clouds that anyone outside ran indoors for their life - but this went practically unnoticed in the BelchFire in the heat of the struggle. "You have no right!" someone shouted - and later witnesses would agree that was when the real trouble started, when a fat rotten tomato cought Wyvern right in the snout! "AGH!" exclaimed an indignant and grossed-out Wyvern. "All right, I didn't want to do this," hissed the almost-dragon, still tugging with all his might on the big purple cushion, "But I hereby put a lean on all the holdings of everyone here, Teehee!" Wyvern suddenly found himself under the cushion as everyone rushed him and his thugs. Now he was pulling with all of his might to keep the cushion between him and his attackers. A scream suddenly cut through the huffing and puffing of the scuffle as one of Wyvern's hulking men was pulled into the throng and pummeled mercilessly. "They got Joe, they got Joe!" cried Wyvern's remaining thug. Outside, the clouds cut loose. Driven by the keening wind, the driving rain was searingly illuminated in a blaze of glittering shinies by the angry bolts of lightning that churned in the bowels of the clouds. Just when it seemed things couldn't get worse, a gnome with long gray beard and a pointed rainbow colored hat came running in, and shouted. "Where's that over-grown lizard? He shot Bambi!" "Uh-oh," said Wyvern, still cowering under the fold of the huge pillow. Then it came. Thundering like a herd of steam locomotives, the ground shook and the air screamed as a massive tornado came and tore the Belchfire out of the Keep of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword and catapulted it into the sky. "AAAAAAAUUUGGG!!" Everyone screamed as they were tossed willy nilly around the room, but could hardly be heard against the shriek of the wind and the panicked banging of the colliape. The cushion, the eviction and the leans were all forgotten as everyone fought for survival. The fire disappeared at it was sucked out the chimney. The windows all blew out, sucking out the curtains with them. The salloon doors flapped back and forth violently. People swam, jostled, and crashed in the maelstrom of pillows, chairs, books, and the occasional tossed salad. Outside in the boiling angry clouds was a simular scene. Trees, animals, a farmer milking a cow, and an almost-lizard riding a huge purple cushion could be seen outside flying through the storm. Even the Picture of Zool was seen spinning through the maelstrom, air sickness bag pressed tightly beneath his rolling eyes. BelchFire tried to play a calming tune on his flute, but the tornado sucked the wind out of it and he couldn't make a sound. Then an idea came to him. "OKAY EVERYONE," he shouted in his boomiest booming voice, "GROUP HUG!!" Then the whole room came together in the huggiest group hug that ever grouped a hug. The rocking of the room was immediately less evident. Then the howling of the wind dropped precipitously. Then the room began to fall... "KEEP IT UP EVERYONE!" boomed BelchFIre again. "WE'VE GOT TO FEEL THE LOVE NOW - FEEEEL THE LOVE!!!" Everybody hugged everybody else. The room began to glow with an eerie golden light, which got brighter,as they fell faster... and brighter, as they fell faster... and brighter... "We're all gonna die!!" screamed the strange gnome, covering his head with his arms. And then there was a tremendous **FLASH**. Everyone looked around. Everything was back the way it had been. The BelchFire was sound, and back in the Keep of the Pen. The furniture, the fire, the curtains, the dark ambeince and warm familiarity were all back. The only thing missing was Wyvern. Everyone looked around, not asking the same question, when they all heard a faint sound... "MmMmmph... MMmmmph.." Curiosity of the strange muffled sounds turned to concern. "I think it's coming from outside!" said BelchFire as he ran out the door followed by all the BelchFire patrons and through the Cabaret to reach the courtyard outside the Cafe. Sticking out from under the walls of the newly reestablished BelchFire Cafe were two almost-dragonic legs. "Oooh, that HAD to hurt!" said WrenWind, wincing at the sight. "Pretty shoes though." "Ding-dong! The witch is dead!" sang the gnome, who was immediately silenced by a look from BelchFire. The legs twitched weakly. "MMM! MMMPH!" Wyvern said from underneath. Working together, it was only a moment and they were able to pull Wyvern out from under the building, and he never spoke of evicting the BelchFire again, because whenever he began to think about it a small but dark and threatening thundercloud mysteriously appeared over his head.

You should write another story! Cool. Very cool.

I think it's the best thing you can do for yourself. *looks at his answer and starts to feel guilty...* ;p

I think the freedom from obligation with it's hard won freedom of intimacy was very well expressed. Well done.

Great show tonight Wyv. I love it!

Happy happy B-day B-day! *hugs*

"And don't forget here's to Peredhil, the Godfather of the Pen, the half-elf all-patriarc guide to good posting and beacon of good manners whose presence, more than any one, has shaped the Pen to be what it is." Zool abruptly rose and raised his glass to Peredhil. Gruido, Nuncio, and Elrohir, positioned in their Armani suits around the aged figure seated at the head of the table, unblinkingly lowered their hands from their breast pockets once they were sure of what Zool was holding. "To Peredhil! To Orlan! To the Pen!" said Zool, each in turn. OOC: Thanks Orlan for your dedication and sacrifice. Thanks everyone for all your contributions and growing the Pen so wonderfully. It really is a cyber oasis.

This is a wonderful poem, on many levels. "Falling asleep in her closet" metaphorically wraps up the whole poem, as does the final 'drowning' stanza. You tie together many wonderful metaphors - the closet, the baby, the drugs, the items in the closet, the Christ and Anti-Christ figures. The excuses read like a laundry list of denial, which I suppose they should. Your poem hints at something else, of the reality of the pain half hidden in relevant metaphors, such as in the reference to "the woman who has shunned her", and several other inconsistencies which leaves me wondering - who is this mystery woman? What plot has led the subject to such despair and self-denial? - but, perhaps that is best left unsaid.

Same here Wyv, tried to make it, but my family called. Next week should be good to go! I have a stream recorder that I can schedule to record - and about the only format it won't work with is Real! Sorry dude. Hope it was exciting for ya.

Yes, Happy B-day!

Zowns! It's about time!

Excellent!

*Still trying to figure out how to talk my friend in to going to the bathroom for me...*

*THWAP!* "Ruddy rubber chicken flippers..."

I thought this was an interesting web-site on the current state of Life-after-death knowledge and research. http://www.near-death.com/

I hate when that happens - but I'm glad you're all right!

I believe all dreams are true, it is simply that few happen. And so it is with earnest fortune telling. I agree with Big P that we tend to remember the times things work out to our belief system, and further that we create our own destiny, beautifying the universe through our own growth, and creating war by standing against spirit. One only need look to mundane history to see this in eternal action.

AWESOME!

The cherry glow roared with heat from the inferno inside the mountain. Palms waved in the billious indigo and lavender sunset, hung on brown poles around the island's sandy wreath, where the gentle breeze and waves danced, intertwining product of Earth, wind, fire and water.

ROFL Savannah! A minister was passing a group of young teens sitting on the church lawn and stopped to ask what they were doing. "Nothing much, Pastor," replied one boy. "We were just seeing who can tell the biggest lie about their sex life." "Boys, boys, boys!" he scolded. "I'm shocked. When I was your age, I never even thought about sex." In unison they all replied, "You win!"