protein half-back icicle into greeny-orange archbishop with porrige fell immune acquitted brush
Paris longtitude and....
latitude for the students who are found drunk in the chimneystacks of the old school dining-room because
they has found a crate of Carlsberg in the closet and
wondered what happened to the sad damsel in distress and her brave and loyal rescuer, who when last seen was
shooting pool with Big Buzz Cameron, the nightclub owner with a huge
and loyal clientelle (sp?), all of whom were misplaced cowboys who were trying to retrieve their down home roots. Instead of drinking, they would
rush up the worn stone steps fending off anybody who got in their way and if Valmont stumbled,which he often did,his faithful servant Lauzan would pick him up,dust him down and point to the lonely tower with a quivering arm and his Master would roll his eyes in a gesture of despair and....
wonder if he would ever achieve his dangerous liaison with the woman of his dreams who lay just out of his reach behind the door at the top of the stairs. This entire time, she lay unaware on her bed sleeping and dreaming of
a White Christmas, which was unlikely since she lived in a land of boiling mud and steaming geysers, at a constant temperature of
90 degrees farenheit. This constant heat and humidity had contributed to an unfortunate condition which manifested itself in
her turning on the air conditioning so that eventually she became frozen frigid and when Valmont felt the icy draught his nerve almost went but Lauzan,being ever the optimist,took him by the...
of Wigan but the traffic lights were at red so
forearm, shook him soundly until his will had returned and turned up the thermostat. This succeeded in thawing the frigid young maiden who awoke with a start to see
Lauzan ripping up the curtains and knotting them together whilst Valmont paced about darting his rapier at the portraits on the walls.There was a shouting and a rushing of footsteps and....
it all went to hell in a handbasket. The young woman was frightened into a catatonic state from which she never awoke. Lauzan and Valmont lived the rest of their lives in virtual
reality which was the only possible alternative until one day when they were driving along the mountain road they saw....
a small deserted cabin, tucked back amongst ancient and massive fir trees. The ground was blanketed with the aromatic needles that had fallen and the air was alive with birdsong and the buzzing of insects. But listening carefully, amongst the sounds and songs of nature, they could just make out another sound, the sound of
silence, in the original Simon and Garfunkel version, on a rather scratchy record which
was spinning slowly on an old turntable in what had seemed at first to be an unihabited abode. The disembodied voices and sweet harmonies floated through the rooms and out the open windows, into the forest. Valmont turned to Lauzan and with a quizzical shrug, asked in a rather hesitant voice,
*sorry mine are so long. I can't help myself - I get into this-can you tell?
"Who the hell is this making this weary racket?" he said.
Lauzan kicked the machine into the far corner of the room and slumped down into an old recliner gnashing his teeth quietly.
"Listen master!" he whispered after cogitating for a while.
"Did you notice that....
