The Death of Rats

The Death of Rats, he ate some spats, all with his curds and whey The Thane of Cawdor, he shaved an otter; a non-suggestive display The Monk's Hood, it did some good in preventing tooth decay The crocodile watched he watched it all and only smiled

Appleseed v. Bar sufficient cooler blooper booster; jello shooter smoother soother. cooper fewer futures, junior- plastic neuters classic tumbler humors newer ruler user abuser loser sooner producer

Wile E. Coyote. I mean, what else was there to eat out there? Nothin' but rocks and cactus. Shaken or stirred?

Why? Why are the French so very good at Electronica? Hell if I know! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YFakp22H0c

William in the forests of the white blossoms at dusk time burning bright O what mortal hand could I raise to climb thy weirding promontory

Cong ratulations!

Where has he gone? He said I'd be safe here. Where has he gone? Is he safe? I know he stands better on his own, but together we are more stable than we could ever be apart. Where has he gone? Oh. The long things are back, grasping. Am I going to rejoin him? I hope so. I feel so incomplete, so... off balance. The long, pale things took him. The sound was awful. I don't like the way their eyes stare at me from their throats. Will I see him? Is he safe?

Down, down, down he went- the last to go, even as the world dissolved into nothing. Maybe he would meet everyone else on the other side. The lamp posts weren't telling.

Poured Hydrogen Peroxide in your ear? Partied with a Power Ranger? Worked alongside a butcher and some actors?

An avatar of death, a Frenchman, and a cat-man with no pants walk into the Cabaret. Wait, you've heard this one? Bugger. The Cat-man spoke first, mouth agape, yellow eyes wide under a beige stetson. "Cor. Fancy, it is." "Stranger indeed than my home, gentlemen. And this is saying something," replied the Frenchman, drinking it all and everyrone in, but much more critically. SQUEAK, rejoined the tiny, toothy, tailed avatar. The three stood resolutely, but seemed for the moment unininterested in moving forward as yet. Well, the tiny avatar did, but- even skeletal as his body is - made a small show of waiting impatiently for his companions to get on with it.

The bones stood up and danced to hear such merry tune Edge flashed in the dark snicker-snack by light of the moon Tap, Line, Step, Waltz, until the last squeak echoed Cross the floor and it was over all too soon

Feebleminded scientists rock the discotheque Funeral for the last electron where is everyone? pretty much all ice skating Should be working at work Dear Fraudboy: Leave a message, I'l reply when I can

Hold me closer, Tony Danza The planes in Spain fall mainly in the rain Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get buried Don't go ridin' on that long black train bound for nowhere Power corrupts with great responsibility No man is a seven nation army It's just a jump to the left to cross the road I walk the lime I walk the lime

*bites the heck out of GeldrinHor's ankle* *...for his Unbirthday*

SQUEAK.

SQUEAK, comments the rat skeleton in a black, hooded robe. A young man dressed in the finest silks and satin, with immaculately coiffed hair, looks up from fastidiously tearing the pages from a hardback copy of 'Twilight' and tearing each one in half before letting the pieces flutter to the floor. The cutlass at his hip bobs slightly as he sets down the abused book and turns to the audience. "I believe what my commander means to say is 'Once or twice a month'." He smiles, tight-lipped, and turns back to his methodic work.

We'll go for a walk and the toilet'll explode when the shit hits the fan we'll remember to lend a hand the office is full, it's time to go It's a wonderful day to be outside (even though it's really loud) No-one else is around; it's nice not having to work but I'm getting kind of lonely

It escaped Cara and Stern's notice for the time being that so cursed, Cara would now be casting magic every single time Tora used some, and vice versa. This would not remain true for very long.

The shade looked at Tora sadly. Like all spirits, it had been traumatized to the core by the transition from the ethereal realms to the earthly ones, and like all spirits, its own emotions bled directly into the minds of the physical. Alas, as well, its fear had been so intense that while a creature of the immortal could endure the unpleasantness (with trepidation), something whose understanding was still limited by five senses stood no chance of standing against the pain and terror. Such as the luckless apprentice lying unconscious by the fire.

We remove scars, chins, and asses. We tune up cars, pianos, and fish. Dances if you want them, No children left behind. No parking in rearview mirror. Objects may be closer than they appear. No fishing, No shoulders, No talking Please return your seat to its upright and locked position It's my creation

Footprints in the urinal shoelaces in the ceiling Wheeling and dealing With feeling like lemmings peeling paint from their oranges on the footstools of strife with Harvey McKay It's all a sham plan to shampoo your feet and llamas until its too late.

*hugs NightFae's ankle...viciously*

*piddles on your root*

That actually says exactly how it felt- it was heavy on the tantrum aspect, but I wouldn't call that a problem; violence is always more emphatic than peace, no?