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Post by CountQuagmire on Jul 21, 2003 14:23:20 GMT -5
Dear Editor, I can just hope for my dear life that this manscript has reached you safely and not fallen into the wrong hands. I have little power in thses matters- being alone in an old, wooden shack, fivity miles away from life doesn't really help. As you requested, I managed to fish up some stuff on the Quagmires.
You shouldn't be too surprised that this post you read isn't too nice. If youv'e read the sister script by my close friend (ASOUE), you'll get the basic idea of the woe and pain the three Quagmires have to live through.
Even though it begins in fire (has does their yet to be know friends), the track they follow is very different- the Bauderlire's time would seem like heaven has to what these childdren endure. This things include the death of a close person, many stupid people, the sound of a screaming cat, sugar overload and sheep.
You have the choice to save yourself from the woe this children go through- yet, I'm already doomed to scribe their sad lifes.
With all due respect, Jacques Snicket.
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Post by Despair on Jul 21, 2003 15:35:03 GMT -5
Good title! The only thing is that the letter V was already used.
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Post by pixie ears on Jul 22, 2003 12:22:06 GMT -5
VEry good, very good!
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Post by CountQuagmire on Jul 29, 2003 1:59:32 GMT -5
Chapter One
There are many enjoyable things to do in this world. Going to the beach, for one. A sunny afternoon on the patio, eating starwberries and cream while watching a tennis match. Or maybe a well-earned picinc after a year of noble deeds tickles your fancy. But yet if we look on the flipside of these- a pharse which here means, "the bad and misfortunate side of these events"- they could suddenly turn much worse.
For example, if sand got into your tuna paste sandwiches, a tennis decided to bath in your cream or the picinc was torn apart by a foul and evil people. Anyway, I'm going off track.
"In the name of all that is sweet and scared," Duncan Quagmire said, as he sheilded his ears from the so-called music venting it's way across the group of people, "That is an insult to all music." "Sounds like a cat being killed more like, " said Isadora, his twin. The two giggled. The two triplets (the third, Quigley was at home finishing off a drawing of a grasshopper in his blue notebook) look as if they were the same being, but clothed differently. They both had short, black, combed hair, in twin sets of green tops and shorts, with black pinstirped stockings. The only way one could tell them apart was the notebooks they always carried. Duncan's was green and Isadora's deep black. "I'll write a newspaper article on how horrid this is," said the reporter in the making. "And I think I might have a poem some where on music," said Isadora the Poet.
But before she could say, the red chheeked man on the stage had entered the bit of his music where it sounded like ten dying cats. Which was promptly-a word which here means, "on time"- followed by a loud BANG! and a burning smell from the direction of town where the triplets mansion was.
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Post by CountQuagmire on Aug 4, 2003 13:04:10 GMT -5
Part Two should be up on Friday.
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