Post by Charlie on Aug 29, 2013 4:39:21 GMT -5
Original idea by Akbar Le Grey
By Charlie
So, I'm quite sorry about last month which was rather dreadful, and God only knows... Hope you're looking forward to the next one! Also, I haven't had this proofread by the lovely Anka, so any mistakes are entirely mine, or anyone else responsible for anything. Also, we're missing a couple of columns from this month's 667er (eg. The Rant, Pen's column, and whatever else). Since our last like fifty Guest Writers have been Mister M, we, or should I say I, because that's what the phrase means in this circumstance, have changed the title of the column to "Mister M's Story bit".
POWER RANKINGS BY WILLIS
These power rankings, despite being the most popular thing on the forum, are also a burden. Everybody tells me “Willis, I love you. Why aren’t I on the list?” Or if they are on the list they ask “Why aren’t I number 1 on the list?” Or if they are number one on the list they just give me a hug but that doesn’t happen very often. So to mix things up, this month I will be power ranking family members, Miller’s excluded because otherwise they would all be Millers. Bonus points if I have met the family member or if I just really like them. Because let’s be honest, I’m super biased in these usually.
1.Bee’s sister – She’s a charming ray of sunshine. Her smile lights up the room.
2.Pandora’s grandmother – She makes good drinks, she likes to play games, and she’s great at making fun of Pandora. Those are like my top three characteristics in a person.
3.Charlie’s baby twins – I don’t remember their gender but I remember they were so cute.
4.Tragedy’s brother – By all accounts very similar to Tragedy, except funny, nice and in general likeable.
5.BSam’s mom – She seems like a nice lady
6.Sherry Ann’s youngest sibling – Gender and age undisclosed, but at least this one doesn’t eat up the internet and deprive me of Sherry Ann
7.Pandora’s mom – She sounds like a more Mexican version of Pandora. What’s not to love?
8.Songbird’s mom – Sometimes they yell at each other and it’s the best.
9.Charlotte’s dad – He cried when he sold his minivan.
10.Sophie’s brother – He was on camera once I think. He seemed cool.
Ok, good work everybody. Next month I’ll probably do pets unless I die.
Hello, please, do sit down.
Normally there was a time when I would have asked you to switch on the light, take a crumpet, and I would offer you a monogrammed napkin to dab away the crumbs. However, there has been no lightbulb in that light ever since the strike at the lightbulb factory all those years ago and I have not had any crumpets since that particular store's relocated to another town, and monogrammed napkins are now so dreadfully out of fashion that I would not wish to embarrass myself any further than I already have.
I suppose you want to ask me who I am, but im afraid I can't answer that question… not truthfully anyway. My real name is so long forgotten, sometimes even I find it hard to rember. However, in the meantime you can call me Sherry Ann.
I'm here to tell you a story.
It's not an easy story to hear, I am sorry to say... But that is how the story goes. The story took place many years ago, when I was still young, which is basically my way of telling you that everything that happened is true...
But I cannot simply tell you the story, I have to show you.
I have here with me six pictures, each one of equal importance. They are not, exactly, in the correct order… but they are in an order of some sort. The order in which the story will be told.
Let me show you them now
The first of a man who some claim does not even exsits, and who some claim is not even really a man, and who some claim does exists, but is not a man, and who some claim does exsits, but is a man, and who some claim is a woman who exists isnide the mind of a man who does not exsits, although im not entirely sure that last option is possible. You may not be able to tell he is there, but he is. This man's name is Dante. You may have heard him, you may not have. You may have heard the rumors, and I expect they are all probably true. But I can't tell you if everything that is said about him is true or not, because we simply don’t have the time. But I can tell you one thing… yes, he did kill all those people. But more about that later.
The second picture is of a taxi, but not just any taxi, a particular taxi, belonging to a man whose life is as a sad a tale as that of Dante. This man's name is Edward, and he lived a fairly normal life until one day.. Something happened.
The third picture is of a gun, which, as I am sure you have guessed, belonged to a man whose life is a sad a tale as that of Dante, because… it is Dante's.
The fourth picture is of a telephone, belonging to a man whose name shall not yet be revealed, because he is of great importance to the rest of the tale I am about to tell you.
The fifth picture is of a statue of a mythical creature called the bombinating beast. The statue is not only of great importance to this story, but to every other story ever told.
The sixth picture is… difficult to explain. At first it may look it is simply a picture of th title I have decided to call this tale, but it is also something much more important, which will become clear in time.
So, I suppose I might as well begin.
But then, of course, the question is… where do we begin?
I suppose you could say the story began on that boat, in the middle of sea, when the truth was learned about David Faraday. But you could also say the story started the day the bank blew up in the middle fo the city. You could also argue the story began with burning of the hotel Denoument by the notorious Mister M. In fact, you could even say it began when the Baudelarie parents were killed in that awful fire. It would not be out of question to suggest the story began when that terrible object was hidden inside the sugar bowl, or when Olaf's parents were murdered, or when D talked to B and B about Bee, and K and V told D about D, ad D did nothing but cause trouble, or that it began on the day of the schism, or the day before that, or two days before that, or two weeks, or a year, or 7, or 14 years, 2 moths, 16 days, 5 hours, and 27 seconds. Or that it began when Dante killed the doctor. Or when the doctor talked to the man with the scarred face or when the man with the scarred face killed his wife. Or when the man's wife attacked the doctor. Or when the doctor spoke to Dante. Or when Dante spoke to the scarred man's wife who talked to the scarred man who attacked the doctor who killed a patient by giving him one to many jabs with a needle. Or you could argue that the story began when the world itself began. Or you could even suggest it began before that, when there was nothing but ?
But if that was the case, we would be here all day, and I'm farid I have a dentist's appiontment at quarter past five and I don’t want to miss it.
So instead, the story will begin with a letter.
The letter was written several years ago, and was delivered even longer ago than that. It was sent so long ago that monogrammed napkins hadn’t even come into fashion. It was delivered so long ago that it hadn’t even occurred to a certian shop keeper that he would sell vastly more crumpets if they were 99 cents, not 99 dollars. And the letter was recieved so long ago that it hadn’t even occurred to me what a brilliant idea it could be to conceal secret information inside a flashbulb.
Th letter reads as thus:
My name is Robert Andrew Smith.
I was born on the 21st September 24 years ago. When it happened, my family had been warned, and they gave me false papers. They warned me of the bloodshed that was to come, and they sent me away to live another live. Shortly afterwards, my parents were murdered. I was never to see them again.
The family I had been sent to were terrified I would be found out. Ever day they told me ‘say nothing. Do nothing.' And I smiled and did nothing as everyone I knew was murdered.
But now I have a chance to change that. There is a man called David Faraday. He believes he has found the answer at last. I am going to travel through time and kill Dante. If I fail,
I want whoever finds this letter to know that… I tried. I did something.
October 3rd, 19~~
...If you weren’t interested before, then I certainly hope you are now.
SPEAKIN OF NOT WORRYING
BEGINS SEPTMEBER 21ST
A Night at the Theatre
By Bandit
The one thing I truly dislike about the Palace Theatre is the fact that its name is a horrid misnomer. As anyone who has walked by 1564 Broadway in midtown Manhattan will know, Palace Theatre is not truly a palace, nor has it ever been one. Therefore I must admit that when I wandered into the ol’ PT yesterday evening, I was expecting to walk down velvet-carpeted hallways and be knighted by a mysterious sovereign; unfortunately, all I discovered inside was an ocean of lumpy seats and an abundance of ugly little girls skipping about onstage.
I decided to sit through the production anyway in case there was a mysterious sovereign at the end after all, and after being seated by a particularly supercilious usher, I learned that the show was titled “Annie.” It tells the story of a bratty young orphan whose name escapes me, and her disobedience-fueled adventures with a raggedy mutt called Andy (or something to that effect-- I was busy unwrapping candy for a good amount of the performance). Among other things, the child associates with various filthy hobos and even cheats her kindhearted orphanage matron out of a job until eventually, like every other ungrateful wretch that escapes discipline, she is spoiled by some rich pinko and lives happily ever after.
Not only do I have major problems with the all-inclusive message of the play, I am also very frustrated with whoever thought it was a good idea to allow children into the prestigious world of live theater. I cannot imagine what Shakespeare would say if he saw his dramaturgy being tainted by the grubby little hands of infants-- how can I bring myself to take this show seriously if it surely would not have been taken seriously in the 16th century? This rhetorical question, among many others, is the reason why I give “Annie” a failing grade: 1 out of 4 stars, a star deducted for every time I realized whilst watching the performance that I would much rather be reading a book. Overall, every dance number looked like a rookery of penguins trying to fly and sounded like a banshee getting a root canal without anesthesia; all the other parts of the show were so appalling that I’ve already blocked them from memory.
Please be sure to look for “A Night at the Theatre” next month, when I will discuss the wonderful tale of Oliver Twist and how well it works onstage.
This month's Guest Artist is me (surprise surprise) with "Images from this years Gishwhes"
Me in a Teabag swimsuit.
Me hugging people in my sexy school uniform.
Me dressed as dragon dressed in kale
This month's filler is a really boring story about a party I went to recently, and yeah, I go to parties.
When I entered the party, I was extremely nervous, as there were many people there I did not usually interact with (it was a relatively popular girl's party). I sat down first next to an extremely religious boy, who is very homophobic. I entered into a conversation with him, in which he was appalled at many lewd comments I made. Then he taught me to dance the Cha-Cha until he realised that dancing with a guy probably made him look gay (oh no!). Then I sat down next to a girl I did not know barely at all, lets call her N, and made some extremely charming comments, and licked her arm. By the end of the night I had pressed my lips to three parts of her arm. Apparently she's now infatuated with me. Typical. Then we played a game called touchy feely spoons, which is highly entertaining (you have to figure out who a person is using only spoons to touch their body). When I was blindfolded, I walked straight up to the religious boy from earlier, and whacked him many times on the head, on the supposition that he was a very elevated bowl. He was not. Then I thought he had boobs. Anyway, that was pretty entertaining. And what else... I gave numerous mock lap-dances to people cause I'm such a magikarp, and totally hit on a girl with a boyfriend. Anyway, it was an excellent night, that I hope to remember for many years, and maybe someone spiked the punch.
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Eat some food woman!
A JOKE BROUGHT TO YOU BY...MY WONDERFUL FRIEND WHO HAS A GIANT REPOSITORY OF CHEESE JOKES
What do you call cheese that does not belong to you?
Nacho Cheese!
And now:
LEARN JAPANESE REALLY SLOWLY WITH CHARLIE-
Days of the week are as follows
Sunday- Nichiyoubi- にちようび- 日曜日
Monday- Getsuyoubi- げつようび- 月曜日
Tuesday- Kayoubi- かようび- 火曜日
Wednesday- Suiyoubi- すいようび- 水曜日
Thursday- Mokuyoubi- もくようび- 木曜日
Friday- Kinyoubi- きにょうび- 金曜日
Saturday- Doyoubi- どようび- 土曜日
This weeks happy thoughts is by my favourite person from youtube~
Go team!
PM me if you want to get involved, or if you don't want to get involved, but someone is forcing you to. If you'd like to remove my messages from your inbox, just PM STOP to me. Make sure it's in caps though. Also, look for the interview in next month's 667er!