Tanuchan Posted November 22, 2005 Report Posted November 22, 2005 (edited) Thanks a lot to Azuran (Alliterative Literate Lost), Venefyxatu (SleepingStudent), and Panther (Brok D Tipov) for providing the letters I've used here . All the Madame passages (in this post and previous ones) were written by Venefyxatu. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Celina sighed, rubbing her head. At a questioning look from Madame, she smiled in a self-deprecating way. "Having to give adequate answers is hard sometimes, Artsy. This one is giving me quite a headache." The Madame nodded, as if she'd seen this coming for a long time. Suddenly she stopped, staring off into the distance. "The headache results from effort, and without effort there is only sleep. Sleep, too, can be an effort if applied properly, and might also result in aches ... head or otherwise." She sat staring ahead of herself for a little longer after saying that, while Celina went back to her computer screen and pored over the Thesaurus and the strange dictionary opened in the "p" page. Dear Abby, Lately I've found it furiously futile to fight my fondness of alliteration, even in everyday engagements. At times it becomes a bothersome barrier to basic banter between buddies and me. Is there something slightly specious stemming from this habit or is it perfectly plausible that my pals just don’t possess the proper perspicacity to appreciate it? Alliterative Literate Lost Dear Alliterative Literate Lost, Your problem is probably prosody-pertinent. It's pretty proficuous for you, if you know how play on it. See, no need for prosophobia or patavinity in your case; you'll always have private provisions, puzzling the public. You have panache. You can be pauciloquent or periphrastic as you please, and people will pay heed. However, don't push psychotically! Don't be penphobic, don't perendinate or perfuncturate - I think you should pervulgate in prosody. There's some pecuniary possibilities in there. The premise: there are sparse people proficient enough to produce poetry from pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. Yours, Abby Still rubbing her head, Celina picked the next letter. Dear Abby, Let me get straight to the point : I'm worried. Worried about myself and my results at school. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those always-crying constantly-worrying students who then go on to get the best results of the entire school. I am, as opposed to most of the people who write you, rather confident about my abilities, and am generally sure that I'll get good results, which I then do. No, my problem is the teacher of one of my classes. It's a very interesting subject, but somehow he manages to kill it completely. This year, I've learned how to sleep with my eyes open, I've completely stopped snoring and, so I've been told, I can actually nod at the appropriate places without waking up. The problem, then, is that whenever I'm awake in this class, I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, bounce off the walls and then run as far as I can, away from school. I'm sure that if I do this my results will go down drastically ... how can I avoid that? Yours, SleepingStudent Dear SleepingStudent, There's nothing wrong about learning new skills that you can put to good use in your life. You'll never know when they can be used to escape tight situations later on. I think that you should praise your school and your teacher for giving you such a good chance to learn different, special skills. So, no need to run away from school - think about that. Practice perfects everything, and your teacher is doing the best to give you chance for that. If you keep that in your mind, I'm pretty sure you can relax enough so you can go back to the proper practice of your skills. Anxiety is a killer. Yours, Abby Celina stretched, loosing her shoulder muscles, and almost jumped out of her chair as Madame's voice came all of a sudden. "The Madame sees ... smoke swirling. A pen pokes through, perfectly perforating the moving mist millimeter by millimeter, writing wonderful words that try to take off over open pages!" Madame sat back, panting, then shook her head briskly. Celina frowned, wondering somewhat, and rummaged through the piles of letters. "Artsy, have you been reading my letters again?" The Madame pretended to be insulted, although they both knew how much she enjoyed meddling in the affairs of others, and reading the letters that Abby received. "Of course not, The Madame would do no such thing. However, with a broken pencil one cannot write letters or stories, yet the letter has found completion. Alphabet soup might be useful ..." Celina frowned at that last sentence, but didn't forget about it completely as she looked at the next letter. Dear Abby, Please help me, I am at a loss and do not know what to do. I enjoy writing, to the point that if you can not help me, I don't know what I will do. My problem is this: I am inspired to write this epic story. One that will change the way people look at the world around them. However, my favorite writing pencil has a broken tip, and I am unable to write. Please help me out of this situation, so that I may bring my work to the masses, and possibly change the world! Sincerely, Brok D Tipov Dear Brok D Tipov, It's a shame about your favorite pencil. Are you sure that the tip is really broken? Sometimes words deceive us, and we might think that it's the tool that's broken. I believe that if you read Madame Artsuhtaraz's column today, you'll see her mentioning the might of the pen. Sometimes tools have to be updated; a pen might be the herald of the new times, the ones your epic will start. If you can't part from your pencil, I suggest some radical surgery to set the broken tip back into shape - have you ever had surgery because of a broken bone? It's similar. Anesthetize the pencil - alcohol is good, wood behaves differently than flesh and bones - then pick a sharp penknife. Cut the wood around the wound carefully, and expose the broken part. You'll probably have to excise splinters, there's no problem. Keep exposing the lead until you have a reliable tip again, then sharpen it carefully. Your pencil will need a bit of rest after the procedure, but if it hasn't suffered from the same problem too often, you might still enjoy its company for a long time. But it must not be exposed to any countinuous effort. This might be a problem for your writing, but I'm sure that you'll find a way out. Maybe the pen is mightier than the pencil, and you can find a more reliable tool. Yours, Abby. Grimacing more than a bit, Celina finally picked the biggest letter, and re-read her answer. [E.N.: Edited for length] Dear Abby I'm in a terrible situation, and it's all a mistake. You see, there is this girl - she is so sweet, so lovely, and so caring... I met her at the video rental one day, we talked a little bit about some movies, and I immediately was aware that she was the girl of my life. See what fate is? Some days later, soon after reading Madame Artsuhtaraz's so true column - it did say I would meet my fate that day I'm a Virgo with ascendant in Leo - I met my girl again. She was in a department store, alone. I followed her during all the time in the store. Just observing, because I wanted to know her before asking her in marriage. I know it seems hasty, but you see - it is my fate to marry her, Madame Artsuhtaraz said so! When my sweet flower arrived home, I was there at her door to greet her and help her carry her packages. Now, three days later, I am here in jail. I don't know what happened. It's a terrible mistake. The police came and arrested me for harassment... What can I do, dear Abby? We're fated to marry and be happy forever... but they don't let me out so I can marry her! Waiting for some advice, Yours, sincerely Despairing Love Dear Despairing Love, Don't despair. The Madame says today, "The vowels of the plate are also the vowels of the name, but the Madame sees that if the consonant is wrong, then the lover shall remain ringless." It might have been a mistake from your part; I think you were somewhat hasty. Fate doesn't work things out in just one day. And how about the ring? If you don't share a ring, you might never have the chance to share consonants as well. Do you know her full names? Her parent's names, her relatives' names? Does she know yours? You see, shared consonants and vowels among close people might also make a difference. You should try to know her better, so you can check if the family also has the communion of words. And the plates! Do you have a car? If you don't, how are you going to compare the plates? No bars should separate a couple in love, or prevent fate. Work towards your goal, but be sure this is the right person. Work is the key word here. And the ring. Observe how the Madame gave weight to the ring you don't mention. You need to work seriously towards your goal. To get a ring. To get a car. To help fate. Find a good job, and make new friends. The more close people you have, the more chances you have to find the matching vowels and the right consonant so that you can have your girl. Beware the tricks of fate - you must be sure it is the right girl, and there is no way of being sure if you keep being so hasty. Work. And find the matching alphabet. Yours, Abby She shook her head, groaning. "Definitely not one of my best. Probably closer to the worst... but what can I say to someone who actually follows Artsy's predictions so closely?" Celina raised her head and looked at the Madame with a fond smile, observing her work on her column. "But that's Artsy, after all." The Madame didn't look up, instead just said, "You know that the Madame can hear you, don't you?" Edited November 22, 2005 by Tanuchan
Venefyxatu Posted November 22, 2005 Report Posted November 22, 2005 Thank you Tanny, for the help Without seeing Celina's grin, the Madame went on writing, every now and then mumbling to herself or making strange motions with her hands over the paper. Aries : If the squirrels are moving, then there is a problem. If the squirrels are arguing, then the problem is greater, for they like each other. Leo : The Madame advises you to not stand near curious cats. Do not sit near them, either. Suddenly, she went rigid in her chair, making the poor thing creak as if it was about to fall apart. While her eyes were rolling in their sockets, her pen scratched across the paper. Sagittarius : Ef þú veist ekki hvað gera skal, gerðu ekki neitt ... After that, she went on writing like usual. Taurus : With a broken pencil one cannot write letters or stories, yet the letter has found completion. Alphabet soup might be useful ... Virgo : The vowels of the plate are also the vowels of the name, but the Madame sees that if the consonant is wrong, then the lover shall remain ringless. Capricorn : If the pen is mightier than the sword, then eloquence is the weapon to choose in a duel. The Madame does warn you : avoid this technique if you don't like fish, for there is always a bigger one ... Gemini : All good things come in three ... yet there are but two of you. Fix this, or the Madame shall not be responsible for the consequences. Libra : Your Persian eyes sparkle, your lips - ruby blue - never speak a sound. Be wary of people calling you Sebastian and stay away from Paris for the time being. Aquarius : The headache results from effort, and without effort there is only sleep. Sleep, too, can be an effort if applied properly, and might also result in aches ... head or otherwise. Cancer : The Madame has seen in the stars that you are not yet ready. On the other hand, the moon has told the Madame that you are already overdue. Wait, but not too long ... Scorpio : Avoid spelling names this week, for even if there is only one way to do so, you will do it wrong. Pisces : The cows are involving the crows in their plots, and they are all out to get you. Do not accept help from rocks, no matter how trustworthy they seem. When she'd written them all down, she put her pen down and looked up at Celina. "The Madame thinks that we are done?" Celina stretches once again, and nods. "Yup. Let's have some tea in that new cafetaria." With a grin, the Madame accepted. "I just know you'll be paying ..." Celina rolled her eyes and followed her out of the office. "That's abusing your gift." "Of course not my dear ... it is merely your fate." They walked away, bickering amiably.
Sweetcherrie Posted November 23, 2005 Author Report Posted November 23, 2005 With everybody around the table Sweetcherrie gathered the last stories together and placed them in the outline. She looked around the table and took in the familiar faces of each person sitting there. All of them were dear friends, and she wondered how she would ever be able to repay them. She cleared her throat and started speaking. “There’s not much left to say for me….I…” She felt her head turning red, “I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart that you have come to my aid when this was so needed.” Smiling faces looked back at her, and she found it hard to continue. “This project has become a success and I think you can be proud of what you have done all together.” Sweetcherrie swallowed away the lump that had appeared in her throat; it had been hard, but when she looked at the end result in her hands she was glad that she had done it. She continued on a more business-like tone of voice seeing that it was the only tone of voice she could keep steady. “Now, if nobody has any questions anymore??….Good!! I think it’s about time we get this printed!” (The thread with the stories can be found here)
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