A one-time school project gone terribly, terribly wrong.

12 July 2006

Sometimes a Great Phrase

Comes to you out of the blue. Or in this case the yellowing pages of Donald Jack's novel Me Bandy, You Cissie:
"She just got up and brushed herself down, looking at us in silence for a few seconds.
Then she shrugged and pouted a little, and picked up her suitcase and her coat and strolled off, her miniature form brightening and fading as she passed under successive haloed street lamps, until she reached the corner and disappeared from sight."
Fitting words for the departure of Raincoaster, who at the last has owned us to be good hosts here at Casa Metro.

It's been a satisfying and moderately alcoholic week here, and we will miss the Drenched One, at least for a while.

Godspeed sweetie, we'll see you later.

Metro & Mme


At 1:36 a.m., Anonymous raincoaster said...

My own perspective is, unsurprisingly, somewhat different.

I barely escaped with my life. I realized it the moment you handed me the enormous deli sandwich and cappuccino you'd just purchased for me.

How very blind I had been.

You had no intention of letting me get on that bus, did you?

Beer instead of gin; I should have known right there. Who would willingly drink beer day after day when he had access to liquor stores with perfectly good gin handy? No, the plot is so very, very clear in retrospect.

Three squares a day, all the snacks I can scarf down, the "beer course" before dinner, the beer course after dinner...


Shirley Jackson, prophet of Penticton.

I thought it was a hug...instead, it was only your ineptitude at the art of bulldogging that allowed me to make it aboard the Vancouver Express.

Free at last, free at last. Thank God I'm free at last.

I need a drink.

At 7:09 a.m., Blogger Lori said...

Metro, wistful.
raincoaster, melodramatic.

Humble readers, hear my plight!

At 8:08 a.m., Blogger Metro said...

Not so much wistful as willing to let bygones be bygones, so long as she was out of the city limits by sundown.

And the "hug" can be explained here

As for sacrificing Raincoaster to the Elder Gods, I think Cthulu would have spit her out.

So good rid...I mean farewell Raincoaster.

At 5:57 p.m., Anonymous raincoaster said...

It is spelled "Cthulhu" and he's really pissed off at you now.

Not only does he hate to be cheated of a chubby sacrifice, but he just detests it when people mis-spell his name.

You know how he gets.


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