Vimpy

Andy just reminded me of this magnificent thing. Way back in 2007, I got bored and challenged him to a game where we wrote a story together by taking turns saying one word at a time. The result was seven times as amazing as it was stupid.

The Death and Death of Hungry Storytelling Bob

Once when Vimpy was young and naive, she decided that her allegories needed invigoration. Packing together her stationery and quill, leaving her numerous admirers behind, she set out to find someone--or perhaps something--to spice up her imagination.

After weeks became more weeks, without food or more food, she felt chipper about possibly tapping into the spirit of Hungry Storytelling Bob. Bob, that dastardly dead deceiver, was dead, but Vimpy knew his stories could never resurrect her unless she resurrected him first.

Consequently, the first thing she wrote when she contacted the ghost of Bob was, "Tell me how I can become an allegorist like Hungry Storytelling You." Then she was startled by the sound of a belly expanding with ghostly inhalation, followed by terrible laughter.

"PUNY POETASTER. YOU DARE PETITION HUNGRY STORYTELLING ME? I AM DEAD BECAUSE I WAS TOO AWESOME TO ANSWER ANYBODY'S STUPID FACE WITH CIVILITY. YOUR FACE MERELY AMUSES ME SO MUCH THAT I LAUGH. HA HA HA YOU FOOLISH FACE-FACE, I LAUGH IN UPPERCASE. HA HA." The ghost trailed awkwardly into silence.

Blinking, Vimpy pondered this monologue with some reserve. Clearly, Hungry Storytelling Bob was insane. Could this be itself a source of his insightfulness? His charm? His flawless "spice"? Or was it in the way hunger clarified and honed his tongue?

Fear coursed through her, fear, fear! She cried, "Stop laughing at such faces as mine! And by all means, stay dead!" Then she went home and ate her fill of food.

THE ALLEGORICAL END.

Everard

My New Year's Resolution this year has been to keep up a 100% track record on birthday cards and thank you notes, which I have never remotely done before. The year is halfway done, and although there were some belated ones, none have been totally missed yet. High five, me!

Part of my success was buying a bulky box of cards back in January and pre-stuffing and pre-addressing all the envelopes, ready for greetings and signings to be added when the time came. But the problem with box-sets of cards is that they have some weird things in them. When my closest brother's birthday rolled around (the one I do Runewood Abbey with), the card I had on hand for him was kind of.... Embarrassing?

...for BIG TIME fun!

The more I looked at it, the weirder everything about it seemed to me. Why is there a pig in this circus? Why is he wearing overalls? Why did I choose this card for a 31-year-old man?

Luckily, there was a fold-over page inside, presumably for grandmothers to write long happy letters to the small children for whom the card was obviously intended. So after being egged on by my Shoulder Andy, I charged ahead with the following (which has been somewhat edited for flow and consistency, but not for total and complete ridiculousness).

Special thanks to Dan for making me aware of the name and its meaning. Seriously, though, this is so silly. I'm putting it behind a cut. XD