Post by sweet, sweet marrow on Feb 4, 2013 10:03:51 GMT -5
[/IMG][/center]
----~---
Fearsome Fiction
By Pen
Joseph was in a hurry. His alarm didn’t go off and he was desperately late for a very important meeting. He was speeding on the highway as fast as he could when he heard the sirens. The cars were shining in the blue and red, right behind him. As a good (and sane) citizen, he pulled over. Looking back, perhaps he shouldn’t have. “Sir, do you have any idea how fast you were driving?”
What Joseph wanted to say was: “Of course I do. I’m not stupid”. But all that came out was “Hmm, err, well, I, you see…” He was soon interrupted by the suspicious officer: “Sir can I see your license and registration?”“Erm, yeah, well, sure, I guess”. Joseph handed him the papers, but the officer wasn’t sold. His hesitant stutter just didn’t seem right. “Are you intoxicated?” Joseph got caught off guard with that question. “Oh, gosh, erm, no, hmm, I mean, of course not.” “Step out of the vehicle, please.” The officer took out a breathalyzer and tested Joseph. And as much as he hoped otherwise, there was just too much alcohol in his mouthwash. “Sir, you’re gonna have to come with me.”
Down at the police station, Joseph couldn’t believe it. It was the first time he’d been arrested and for something so silly. Now he was stuck in a cell with some not-very-friendly-looking criminals for a while. “I’m just going to keep my cool, stay quiet and nothing will happen”. He wished. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he was approach by a fellow criminal. “Hey. Hey you. What’s your name?”“Err, hmm, Joseph.” The man whispered with his friends or gang colleagues or whatever, before addressing Joseph once again. “Yea, that is you. You’re the one that messed with us yesterday”, he said angrily. “Err, no, nono, I, not really, hmm, no…” but as much as he tried to explain, his stuttering and hesitant voice didn’t convince anyone. “We’re gonna have a little talk and I trust you’ll never cross our way again”, the gangster threatened, cracking his knuckles.
A few hours later, Joseph left the police station, sore and bruised and car-less. He decided he’d just walk home. On his way home Joseph was mugged, stepped on a puddle, nearly got run over, and all the other bad things that could happen on a short walk. When he got home, he was exhausted. Joseph took a hot bath and decided to order a pizza. He called the nearest pizza place. “Luigi’s Pizzas, how can I help you?”“Hmm, err, I’d like a, erm, pepperoni…” “Look mister. You may think you’re really funny right now, but we really don’t have time for prank calls. Please don’t call us again”. Joseph nearly broke his phone. He just gave up and decided a good night of sleep would do him good. He got all settled in his bed and turned off the lights. “Yes, this is just what I needed”, he though. That’s just when he heard the knocking on his front door. “Police, open up!” Err… well salsa.
----'#/.;[#.]-----
Josephs Advice Column ;
1. My friend is currently transiting into a new high school for the new school year, and it doesn't look like a good high school, but she has to go there before she can get into the school that she wants to go to. Out of shyness, she doesn't think that she'll make any friends.
Should she keep away from the drama and the other students?
I eagerly await the answer in the Daily Punctilio.
I, er, well, I, y;see, I um…
Well, I, er suppose it er, depends, on,… hm !
Er, well, your, ah friends, could er, yes.
2. I keep losing my keys. Help please!
I, would, um, suggest ah,….. Glue them to your ah, fingers.
3. I just picked up an opened box of Krispy Kreme with three untouched doughnuts in it, off of an abandoned table, should I eat them? What should I do?
Hm….. Can I , er, have one?
No? Oh. Okay. So, er, that’s how it is.
Fine.
=====
THIS MONTHS PITIFUL POEM
A message to all members of VFD
By Sophie
Allure is a strange thing,
Found often in unexpected places.
Like libraries, perhaps,
Or in librarians themselves.
It can be serendipitous
Or it can require some digging below the surface
Before it reveals itself to the beholder.
Nevertheless, the allure of some
Is blatant, bold, and bewitching,
Or enigmatic,
And when it is seen
It simply cannot be ignored.
Such is the beauty and allure
Of a certain colleague of mine.
Her manner is calm, her attitude modest
Yet the way she smiles is intoxicating—
The way her scarlet upper lip curls ever so slightly,
The vivacious glint I see in her eyes—
It is enough to ensnare anyone she encounters.
And it is for this reason
That I write to you today:
It has come to my attention
That I have an issue of extreme importance
Surrounding this particular colleague—
I love her.
I do. I love her.
I love her for all her virtues—
Her unceasing empathy,
The enduring passion she puts into everything she does,
I love that she is intelligent—
Far more so than I could ever be—
And her wit.
I love her for all her talents—
I love the fact that she can order her favourite drink in 13 languages;
I love the way she makes fettuccine alfredo;
I love that she can tie a knot with a cherry stem using only her tongue.
I love her for all her imperfections.
I love how she has a dimple on her right cheek
But not on her left.
I love it when she snorts when she laughs,
Even though she claims it’s not lady-like.
And when she dances in the kitchen
When there’s no music playing,
I love her even more.
I love her.
That’s my problem.
Because this woman,
With her unfathomable beauty,
Has given her nuptial promise to a most fortunate man
Who is perfectly suited for her—
He is clever, well-read, charming, a great friend—
In fact, he is my best friend.
And so through this poem
I announce to my associates
The reason for my disappearance,
Seeing as I will most likely be long gone by the time you read this.
I encourage you to not think any differently of me,
Especially you, Isaac.
You may say that I’m running away from my problem—
Which is true.
But my biggest problem is that I am weak.
I can’t stand to keep my emotions in a bottle with a cork.
But to let them out would be dangerous.
Emotions have a tendency to hurt, to destroy.
Sometimes in life we must put the happiness of others
Before our own preferences.
And with my typewriter and wool coat as my companions,
I retreat into the city, the fog shrouding me in secrecy.
Maybe we will meet again.
Maybe we won’t.
The future is uncertain,
Just as it was meant to be.
The world is quiet here.
ISSUE # 2 COMING SOON
THE QUARRELSOME QUESTIONS
This months interviewee - Joseph
B ; Hello 667 Dark Avenue. My name is B. Simply B. And, at the request of an old friend of mine, every month I will interview someone. It could be someone you know, someone you don’t know, or someone you do know but you just haven’t realised yet. This month we are interviewing Joseph (Or J for short)
J ; Er..
B ; Is There a problem?
J ; Well, I ,er, I suppose I, um
B ; Yes?
J ; Well, I, kind fo object to my name being, ah, shortened.
B ; Why>
J ; I, um, don’t really see the, ah, point.
B ; >sigh<. Joseph, just go with it.
J ; um
B ; Right, first question - You work at a bank. How did that happen?
J ; Well, I, er, guess it’s ah, a long story.
B ; Tell it,
J ; I suppose it began back when I was young. My father used to work in a bank, and so, I wanted to do something completely different to that and, um, be rebellious I suppose.
B ; What about your mother, what did she think?
J ; Ah, well, er, my mother, er, died when I was very, ah young
B ; Sorry.
J ; Its, ah, okay. You didn’t know.
B ; Well, if its okay to ask, do you have nay memories of your mother?
J ; Well, not any, um… distinct ones. But I….. ah. Well…..
B ; Take your time.
J ; I remember tings that happened to me when I was very young, but, ah, I don’t know exactly what my mother looked like. I remember playing in the sand at the beach, I remember getting lost at the mall, and I remember a woman with hair but no beard.
B ; But nothing of your mother?
J ; Er, no.
B ; So, back on topic - Banking.
J ; Ah! So as I was saying, I wanted to, ah, do something different, and my first love was, ah, well. Reading,
B ; Never a bad thing.
J ; And, so , I ah, wanted to be a writer.
B ; And what stopped you.
J ; I, ah, wasn’t very good.
B ; Did your father say you weren’t any good?
J ; What? Erm, no, it was more the ah. Mister, ah. My teacher. My English teacher didn’t think I was ah… very good.
B ; He must have not been a very good teacher then.
J ; No.
B ; Okay, so you gave up on your writing… what next?
J ; Well, I, er, looked at the alternatives, and, um, I wanted to work in a library.
B ; Really? I thought you weren’t very good with people.
J ; Well… when, I ,er, was, um ah er I….
B ; Take your time.
J ; I, er, was, ah, always very er, nervous. About everything and doing anything and going anywhere and meeting people and - er. Yeah.
B ; What made you think you would do better in a library?
J ; it’s a, er, quiet place, a calm place, and I thought it would, er, make me quiet and ,e r calm.
B ; So what happened.
J ; When I was, er, about 12, I kept, um hearing this, er noise outside I , er asked my father what it, um, was when These, er, people came -
>L enters the room<
L ; Hello.
B ; Excuse Me? Who do you think you are?
J ; Uh Oh.
L ; I’m sorry but this interview is over
B ; What do you mean?
J ; I, er, should um
B ; What are you doing with that gu-
>Gunshot<
>J screams<
J ; Oh my god ! You killed -
>TRANSMISSION ENDS<
AWFUL ART - This Month By Terry Craig
![]()
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And Now, a Terrifying Sneak peak at the next chapter of AnotherSOUE!
‘Its okay, you were in a rush, I cant blame you.’
Overall, James had been nice about the sanitation, and, as Klaus had said, he was a nice person.. He had given them all a cup of tea, and a biscuit, and was now giving them a lift in his car so they wouldn’t be late. ‘I really do feel for you.’
‘We appreciate your help very much.’ said Justice Strauss. She was looking out the window, at all the other cars passing by, her mind not really with the present situation.
‘Ah, its nothing.’
The Baudelaires sat in awkward silence for the rest of journey, before pulling to a stop outside the courthouse.
The four children, and the one adult stepped out of the car. Violet turned to James ‘Here, let me give you some money.’
‘Money? No, no! There’s no need.’
‘Tiker!’ Shrieked Beatrice, a word which might have meant ‘Thank you’, or possibly ‘I’m to worried about our upcoming trial to thank you.’, but I am unsure.
‘Right.’ Said James. ‘Goodbye then.’ And he was gone.
The Baudelaires stood, and watched as his car disappeared over the horizon.
And then, the most unexpected thing happened.
A Man appeared, as if from nowhere, on a Tuesday Afternoon, in the middle of the street. He had black hair, dark green eyes, and a face like he was in trouble. And, he was running towards the Baudelaires.
The man was wearing clothes that looked incredibly old, but in his hands were two strange devices that seemed incredibly complicated, almost so complicated violet would have a hard time making them. They seemed to be attached to his hands like gloves, with long wires spreading up his arms, and then over his back.
The man stopped running when he reached the Baudelaires and leaned against the side of the building, catching his breath. ‘Is *gasp* is… *gasp* this *gasp* tues *gasp* Tuesday?’
Violet looked at Justice Strauss before saying yes.
‘Good’ The man walked over the large marble entrance, and then to the side of the road ‘Then there might still be time.’
Justice Strauss walked up to the man ‘Excuse me, but whoa re you?’
‘That doesn’t matter. Not yet. Not until after the meeting on Friday evening anyway. What does matter is that you listen to everything I tell you Baudelaires.’
‘Are we supposed to know you/’ Klaus asked.
‘No.’ And he ran up the steps and into the entrance of the high court.
The Baudelaires did not know whether to follow or scream for help, but before they could make a decision, he ran back out again, without the strange objects on his hands.
‘Right.’ he said. ‘Violet, I need you to come with me.’
‘Excuse me?’ she asked.
‘We need to find Mr Poe. He is the only variable remaining.;
‘the only what?’
‘Variable. The only thing that can change/’
‘Change what?’ Klaus asked.
The man turned to look at him, with a look of fear in his eyes. It took him a few moments before he could reply.
‘The future.’
And you can see the rest of this chapter, and more from before it when Chapter Five is published on WEDNESDAY 6TH FEBRUARY.
//.[.]].#].]============p-0
CALLING VFD
WE WILL MEET ON SUNDAY 3RD MARCH 2012
HOSTED BY MISTER M AND JOSEPH
MORE DETAILS COMING SOON
>TRANSMISSION ENDS<
Don’t forget The 667 Dark Avenue Re-Read Is still ongoing!
The Unauthorized Autobiography will continue to be covered until the 17th February, after which TCC will be shoved under the microscope!
--à_____ß--
By Mister M, Pen, Joseph, Sophie, Terry Craig, and Issac (With Thanks to Tryina, Lemona, and Charlie)
Dear Reader
The Daily Punctilio is now under new management.
The unfortunate events of the Thursday-before-last still rest on my mind to this day (Friday). First the editor falling down that elevator shaft, then the murder of Miss Julienne and then the unfortunate fire.
So sad.
But it is time to, as I always say, look on the bright side of life. The Daily Punctilio is now under new management, and we hope this will be a brighter and warmer future for all of our loyal readers.
The Daily Punctilio is now under new management.
The unfortunate events of the Thursday-before-last still rest on my mind to this day (Friday). First the editor falling down that elevator shaft, then the murder of Miss Julienne and then the unfortunate fire.
So sad.
But it is time to, as I always say, look on the bright side of life. The Daily Punctilio is now under new management, and we hope this will be a brighter and warmer future for all of our loyal readers.
With all Due Respect
Mister M
Inside this issue -
Fearsome Fiction
Josephs Advice Column
Pitiful Poem
The Quarrelsome Questions
Awful Art
Mister M
Inside this issue -
Fearsome Fiction
Josephs Advice Column
Pitiful Poem
The Quarrelsome Questions
Awful Art
And a Petrifying Preview of The Latest AnotherSOUE Chapter!
----~---
Fearsome Fiction
By Pen
Joseph was in a hurry. His alarm didn’t go off and he was desperately late for a very important meeting. He was speeding on the highway as fast as he could when he heard the sirens. The cars were shining in the blue and red, right behind him. As a good (and sane) citizen, he pulled over. Looking back, perhaps he shouldn’t have. “Sir, do you have any idea how fast you were driving?”
What Joseph wanted to say was: “Of course I do. I’m not stupid”. But all that came out was “Hmm, err, well, I, you see…” He was soon interrupted by the suspicious officer: “Sir can I see your license and registration?”“Erm, yeah, well, sure, I guess”. Joseph handed him the papers, but the officer wasn’t sold. His hesitant stutter just didn’t seem right. “Are you intoxicated?” Joseph got caught off guard with that question. “Oh, gosh, erm, no, hmm, I mean, of course not.” “Step out of the vehicle, please.” The officer took out a breathalyzer and tested Joseph. And as much as he hoped otherwise, there was just too much alcohol in his mouthwash. “Sir, you’re gonna have to come with me.”
Down at the police station, Joseph couldn’t believe it. It was the first time he’d been arrested and for something so silly. Now he was stuck in a cell with some not-very-friendly-looking criminals for a while. “I’m just going to keep my cool, stay quiet and nothing will happen”. He wished. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he was approach by a fellow criminal. “Hey. Hey you. What’s your name?”“Err, hmm, Joseph.” The man whispered with his friends or gang colleagues or whatever, before addressing Joseph once again. “Yea, that is you. You’re the one that messed with us yesterday”, he said angrily. “Err, no, nono, I, not really, hmm, no…” but as much as he tried to explain, his stuttering and hesitant voice didn’t convince anyone. “We’re gonna have a little talk and I trust you’ll never cross our way again”, the gangster threatened, cracking his knuckles.
A few hours later, Joseph left the police station, sore and bruised and car-less. He decided he’d just walk home. On his way home Joseph was mugged, stepped on a puddle, nearly got run over, and all the other bad things that could happen on a short walk. When he got home, he was exhausted. Joseph took a hot bath and decided to order a pizza. He called the nearest pizza place. “Luigi’s Pizzas, how can I help you?”“Hmm, err, I’d like a, erm, pepperoni…” “Look mister. You may think you’re really funny right now, but we really don’t have time for prank calls. Please don’t call us again”. Joseph nearly broke his phone. He just gave up and decided a good night of sleep would do him good. He got all settled in his bed and turned off the lights. “Yes, this is just what I needed”, he though. That’s just when he heard the knocking on his front door. “Police, open up!” Err… well salsa.
----'#/.;[#.]-----
Josephs Advice Column ;
1. My friend is currently transiting into a new high school for the new school year, and it doesn't look like a good high school, but she has to go there before she can get into the school that she wants to go to. Out of shyness, she doesn't think that she'll make any friends.
Should she keep away from the drama and the other students?
I eagerly await the answer in the Daily Punctilio.
I, er, well, I, y;see, I um…
Well, I, er suppose it er, depends, on,… hm !
Er, well, your, ah friends, could er, yes.
2. I keep losing my keys. Help please!
I, would, um, suggest ah,….. Glue them to your ah, fingers.
3. I just picked up an opened box of Krispy Kreme with three untouched doughnuts in it, off of an abandoned table, should I eat them? What should I do?
Hm….. Can I , er, have one?
No? Oh. Okay. So, er, that’s how it is.
Fine.
NEW CHAPTER FEBRUARY 10TH
=====
THIS MONTHS PITIFUL POEM
A message to all members of VFD
By Sophie
Allure is a strange thing,
Found often in unexpected places.
Like libraries, perhaps,
Or in librarians themselves.
It can be serendipitous
Or it can require some digging below the surface
Before it reveals itself to the beholder.
Nevertheless, the allure of some
Is blatant, bold, and bewitching,
Or enigmatic,
And when it is seen
It simply cannot be ignored.
Such is the beauty and allure
Of a certain colleague of mine.
Her manner is calm, her attitude modest
Yet the way she smiles is intoxicating—
The way her scarlet upper lip curls ever so slightly,
The vivacious glint I see in her eyes—
It is enough to ensnare anyone she encounters.
And it is for this reason
That I write to you today:
It has come to my attention
That I have an issue of extreme importance
Surrounding this particular colleague—
I love her.
I do. I love her.
I love her for all her virtues—
Her unceasing empathy,
The enduring passion she puts into everything she does,
I love that she is intelligent—
Far more so than I could ever be—
And her wit.
I love her for all her talents—
I love the fact that she can order her favourite drink in 13 languages;
I love the way she makes fettuccine alfredo;
I love that she can tie a knot with a cherry stem using only her tongue.
I love her for all her imperfections.
I love how she has a dimple on her right cheek
But not on her left.
I love it when she snorts when she laughs,
Even though she claims it’s not lady-like.
And when she dances in the kitchen
When there’s no music playing,
I love her even more.
I love her.
That’s my problem.
Because this woman,
With her unfathomable beauty,
Has given her nuptial promise to a most fortunate man
Who is perfectly suited for her—
He is clever, well-read, charming, a great friend—
In fact, he is my best friend.
And so through this poem
I announce to my associates
The reason for my disappearance,
Seeing as I will most likely be long gone by the time you read this.
I encourage you to not think any differently of me,
Especially you, Isaac.
You may say that I’m running away from my problem—
Which is true.
But my biggest problem is that I am weak.
I can’t stand to keep my emotions in a bottle with a cork.
But to let them out would be dangerous.
Emotions have a tendency to hurt, to destroy.
Sometimes in life we must put the happiness of others
Before our own preferences.
And with my typewriter and wool coat as my companions,
I retreat into the city, the fog shrouding me in secrecy.
Maybe we will meet again.
Maybe we won’t.
The future is uncertain,
Just as it was meant to be.
The world is quiet here.
ISSUE # 2 COMING SOON
THE QUARRELSOME QUESTIONS
This months interviewee - Joseph
B ; Hello 667 Dark Avenue. My name is B. Simply B. And, at the request of an old friend of mine, every month I will interview someone. It could be someone you know, someone you don’t know, or someone you do know but you just haven’t realised yet. This month we are interviewing Joseph (Or J for short)
J ; Er..
B ; Is There a problem?
J ; Well, I ,er, I suppose I, um
B ; Yes?
J ; Well, I, kind fo object to my name being, ah, shortened.
B ; Why>
J ; I, um, don’t really see the, ah, point.
B ; >sigh<. Joseph, just go with it.
J ; um
B ; Right, first question - You work at a bank. How did that happen?
J ; Well, I, er, guess it’s ah, a long story.
B ; Tell it,
J ; I suppose it began back when I was young. My father used to work in a bank, and so, I wanted to do something completely different to that and, um, be rebellious I suppose.
B ; What about your mother, what did she think?
J ; Ah, well, er, my mother, er, died when I was very, ah young
B ; Sorry.
J ; Its, ah, okay. You didn’t know.
B ; Well, if its okay to ask, do you have nay memories of your mother?
J ; Well, not any, um… distinct ones. But I….. ah. Well…..
B ; Take your time.
J ; I remember tings that happened to me when I was very young, but, ah, I don’t know exactly what my mother looked like. I remember playing in the sand at the beach, I remember getting lost at the mall, and I remember a woman with hair but no beard.
B ; But nothing of your mother?
J ; Er, no.
B ; So, back on topic - Banking.
J ; Ah! So as I was saying, I wanted to, ah, do something different, and my first love was, ah, well. Reading,
B ; Never a bad thing.
J ; And, so , I ah, wanted to be a writer.
B ; And what stopped you.
J ; I, ah, wasn’t very good.
B ; Did your father say you weren’t any good?
J ; What? Erm, no, it was more the ah. Mister, ah. My teacher. My English teacher didn’t think I was ah… very good.
B ; He must have not been a very good teacher then.
J ; No.
B ; Okay, so you gave up on your writing… what next?
J ; Well, I, er, looked at the alternatives, and, um, I wanted to work in a library.
B ; Really? I thought you weren’t very good with people.
J ; Well… when, I ,er, was, um ah er I….
B ; Take your time.
J ; I, er, was, ah, always very er, nervous. About everything and doing anything and going anywhere and meeting people and - er. Yeah.
B ; What made you think you would do better in a library?
J ; it’s a, er, quiet place, a calm place, and I thought it would, er, make me quiet and ,e r calm.
B ; So what happened.
J ; When I was, er, about 12, I kept, um hearing this, er noise outside I , er asked my father what it, um, was when These, er, people came -
>L enters the room<
L ; Hello.
B ; Excuse Me? Who do you think you are?
J ; Uh Oh.
L ; I’m sorry but this interview is over
B ; What do you mean?
J ; I, er, should um
B ; What are you doing with that gu-
>Gunshot<
>J screams<
J ; Oh my god ! You killed -
>TRANSMISSION ENDS<
AWFUL ART - This Month By Terry Craig
And Now, a Terrifying Sneak peak at the next chapter of AnotherSOUE!
‘Its okay, you were in a rush, I cant blame you.’
Overall, James had been nice about the sanitation, and, as Klaus had said, he was a nice person.. He had given them all a cup of tea, and a biscuit, and was now giving them a lift in his car so they wouldn’t be late. ‘I really do feel for you.’
‘We appreciate your help very much.’ said Justice Strauss. She was looking out the window, at all the other cars passing by, her mind not really with the present situation.
‘Ah, its nothing.’
The Baudelaires sat in awkward silence for the rest of journey, before pulling to a stop outside the courthouse.
The four children, and the one adult stepped out of the car. Violet turned to James ‘Here, let me give you some money.’
‘Money? No, no! There’s no need.’
‘Tiker!’ Shrieked Beatrice, a word which might have meant ‘Thank you’, or possibly ‘I’m to worried about our upcoming trial to thank you.’, but I am unsure.
‘Right.’ Said James. ‘Goodbye then.’ And he was gone.
The Baudelaires stood, and watched as his car disappeared over the horizon.
And then, the most unexpected thing happened.
A Man appeared, as if from nowhere, on a Tuesday Afternoon, in the middle of the street. He had black hair, dark green eyes, and a face like he was in trouble. And, he was running towards the Baudelaires.
The man was wearing clothes that looked incredibly old, but in his hands were two strange devices that seemed incredibly complicated, almost so complicated violet would have a hard time making them. They seemed to be attached to his hands like gloves, with long wires spreading up his arms, and then over his back.
The man stopped running when he reached the Baudelaires and leaned against the side of the building, catching his breath. ‘Is *gasp* is… *gasp* this *gasp* tues *gasp* Tuesday?’
Violet looked at Justice Strauss before saying yes.
‘Good’ The man walked over the large marble entrance, and then to the side of the road ‘Then there might still be time.’
Justice Strauss walked up to the man ‘Excuse me, but whoa re you?’
‘That doesn’t matter. Not yet. Not until after the meeting on Friday evening anyway. What does matter is that you listen to everything I tell you Baudelaires.’
‘Are we supposed to know you/’ Klaus asked.
‘No.’ And he ran up the steps and into the entrance of the high court.
The Baudelaires did not know whether to follow or scream for help, but before they could make a decision, he ran back out again, without the strange objects on his hands.
‘Right.’ he said. ‘Violet, I need you to come with me.’
‘Excuse me?’ she asked.
‘We need to find Mr Poe. He is the only variable remaining.;
‘the only what?’
‘Variable. The only thing that can change/’
‘Change what?’ Klaus asked.
The man turned to look at him, with a look of fear in his eyes. It took him a few moments before he could reply.
‘The future.’
And you can see the rest of this chapter, and more from before it when Chapter Five is published on WEDNESDAY 6TH FEBRUARY.
//.[.]].#].]============p-0
CALLING VFD
WE WILL MEET ON SUNDAY 3RD MARCH 2012
HOSTED BY MISTER M AND JOSEPH
MORE DETAILS COMING SOON
>TRANSMISSION ENDS<
Don’t forget The 667 Dark Avenue Re-Read Is still ongoing!
The Unauthorized Autobiography will continue to be covered until the 17th February, after which TCC will be shoved under the microscope!
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So, here we are at the end of our first issue we hope you’ve enjoyed it, and we hope you will join us again soon!
If anyone would like to contribute to the next issue (With more ‘slots’ coming soon), please PM for more information. The Next issue will be out towards the ends of march, and will mainly cover the First VFD Meeting.
Until then, be good, be safe, be happy, and rememberwe will burn them. The world is quiet here.
If anyone would like to contribute to the next issue (With more ‘slots’ coming soon), please PM for more information. The Next issue will be out towards the ends of march, and will mainly cover the First VFD Meeting.
Until then, be good, be safe, be happy, and remember
