Halloween
- Thread starter Hồng Thất Công
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@Fusion_Power: Hooves? Hooves?? Really?? Haha, nopenope. I'll stick with the other ones
Well, this depends what the choosen Costume is, I guess. :rolleyes:
FaeMinx
Rainbow Liberation Instigation
Nice one Binky
There might be more - I'm still writing, but I'm not sure if I can get it to a satisfactory conclusion...Nice one Binky
Take your time, Binky. I'm keeping the fire going and passing out food, hehe.
FaeMinx
Rainbow Liberation Instigation
Death by iPhone?
Read the newspaper clipping again
I need to knoooow
Here's a bit more:
Mr Wiggin carefully stuck the newspaper cutting in place, closed the scrapbook, and sighed.
It had happened again, and to such a nice young lady too. Still, nobody could say it was his fault. He'd told 'em over and over. He'd seen the lights. He'd wandered up and down the street with a placard too. And now they'd put him in this converted waterfront hotel with a nice gentleman who came in to check on him every Monday and brought him meals. Something about sociable services. Which reminded him, black pudding tonight!
“You think I'm mad. Don't you” he grumbled. “Mad old Mr Wiggin. Two planks short of a timberyard; that's me."
Of course not sir, now if you’ll just pass me your hat I can can put in on the stand next to your coat. There. That's better isn't it. Do you want me to put the radio for you...
The problem with the nice young gentleman was that he never talked about anything interesting and never did anything interesting. He was never interested in anything, so far as Mr Wiggin could tell. He'd given up talking about the pier years ago after that dear old lady had pushed a shopping trolley full of bin-liners into the sea. He'd tried showing the lad some of his old military kit once too, but that had met with just at little enthusiasm as anything else. Mr Wiggin had learnt to keep his thoughts to himself.
Mr Wiggin carefully stuck the newspaper cutting in place, closed the scrapbook, and sighed.
It had happened again, and to such a nice young lady too. Still, nobody could say it was his fault. He'd told 'em over and over. He'd seen the lights. He'd wandered up and down the street with a placard too. And now they'd put him in this converted waterfront hotel with a nice gentleman who came in to check on him every Monday and brought him meals. Something about sociable services. Which reminded him, black pudding tonight!
“You think I'm mad. Don't you” he grumbled. “Mad old Mr Wiggin. Two planks short of a timberyard; that's me."
Of course not sir, now if you’ll just pass me your hat I can can put in on the stand next to your coat. There. That's better isn't it. Do you want me to put the radio for you...
The problem with the nice young gentleman was that he never talked about anything interesting and never did anything interesting. He was never interested in anything, so far as Mr Wiggin could tell. He'd given up talking about the pier years ago after that dear old lady had pushed a shopping trolley full of bin-liners into the sea. He'd tried showing the lad some of his old military kit once too, but that had met with just at little enthusiasm as anything else. Mr Wiggin had learnt to keep his thoughts to himself.
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but WHO is this Mr Wiggin..? *twilight theme plays *Ah, that's an angle I hadn't thought of...
/me reconsiders plot
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Hey Binky, why don't you make a pnd of your story. It's quite good imagination from you Would love to read it on my Pandora
Would love to read it on my Pandora
@Binky: But ofcourse! *and agrees with Shenmue*
Corporal Wiggin leaned on the spanner and pulled. it came away, throwing him headfirst onto the scaffolding. The year was 1940, and Wiggin was in the LDV unit tasked with dismantling the Dimnton pier for scrap iron to make tanks. Their commanding officer was not happy.
“COME ON YOU SNIVELLING BUGGERS”, he roared through the wind “Its time to pack up and you've archived NOTHING! You should be ASHAMED of yourselves. What would your mothers think if they could see you now?! WELL?! WELL!?”
Twelve men had been working at it for eight hours, and all they'd got from it were scratches, bruises and a twisted ankle. The sea wind seemed to be making him feel edgy.
“COME ON YOU SNIVELLING BUGGERS”, he roared through the wind “Its time to pack up and you've archived NOTHING! You should be ASHAMED of yourselves. What would your mothers think if they could see you now?! WELL?! WELL!?”
Twelve men had been working at it for eight hours, and all they'd got from it were scratches, bruises and a twisted ankle. The sea wind seemed to be making him feel edgy.
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*Gets a blanket and reads*
Fzero
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- Mar 9, 2010
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For more amazing carvings from Dolo Bananas .... check out Japanese artist Keisuke Yamada:
http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/keisuke-yamada
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I don't play with bananas. I eat them.
