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By flamy at 09/12/2008 - 23:57
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Cursive. Yup, that should be it. Neat little thing, but didn't realize that we'd had a problem. Sorry Folks! Yesterday, I received a note -
" To,
The Totally Turbid Tattler:
My Dear Fellowbody,
We are raised in a world where you try to end an argument by agreeing, 'Quite' and end up fueling it instead as you've rattled your opponent by boldly saying, 'Quiet'. You'd have no chance to correct the other and you'd return home to your loving, lovable wife or an equally loving (lovable?) fluffy mother in a disagreeable state of mind and end up spoiling her well-laid day and dinner.
Words - 'What a tangled web we weave', Shakespeare must have been a tentative taut tarantula, or am I mistaken? The thing, in a nutshell, is that I'm not a literary soul and I don't care who said what. That was for the examiners to stroke their grizzled beards about.
Ok, you must be an ally of Webster's working a deal in raising their market stock but I don't intend to spend my sweat-earned moolah on a pocket-size lexicon to carry to one of your honest, but riddled chats. So do diverge, divorce, divide, debar yourself from being discreetly discrete, by dubbing dubious doubts as to our diction into our decently destined domes.
Signed,
Non-Luminous Ominous Anonymous
P.S. Help the cause. Remove the fog, don't pause. - ' The Dense Men's ' Clause. "
I read the above thrice and just by a scrape got hold of the gist of it, from all the mist of it, finally made a fist of it and kept the tryst of it with the dump-bin.
But, really now, it did enlighten me to the severe mental trauma I'm putting you dears through. I apologise solemnly. It's just that my heart doesn't help my tongue stick to its place. It stimulates it beyond wonder to a wonderland beyond my own head. And I gabble like.
This notorious noter had also attached evidence. I don't record my conversations with you, but this top-notcher did just the synonym of it! So, for the benefit of the common people and silly little me, I ventured to enquire upon this dilemma with the villian of the tale - (nope, he doesn't have a long swirly moush though he is the one with all the mush..., oops! Mr. N.O.A. might pop up again.) my personal lubb-dubber. He towelled the sap and put before me, the hard deep pink truth:
Dear, Dear
What have we now here?
Why you goggle so weird?
With all might you endeavoured
But have hath no answer couriered
Don't, but be so afeared
The day of Light has neared
Soon everything shall be cleared.
You want to hug her like a bear
Whisper poems into her ear
Big Technicolor dreams appear
A rush of blood (bipolar) every time you see her
Like direct current of many ampere
A curious surge through the front and rear
With all you do; it does interfere
But nothing makes you happier
Nothing gets you jollier
For this is no attraction mere
Pronounce it with hip and cheer
And let many of your unlucky peer
Make faces and silly jeer
You have nothing to fear
For, O My Dear Carrier
It's Love! Hear! Hear!
+ This has been a disturbing session of soul-searching +
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sorry
open your hearts!