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

14 July 2007

The Nightmare is Over!

Raincoaster has slithered away to whatever non-euclidean space she came from, leaving nothing but a vague disquiet, a lingering and regrettably persistent smell best described as "cabbagy-seaweedy and that's all you want to know believe me", and a gapingly empty liquor cabinet.

Who knew a simple bell, book, and candle could be so effective?

Actually we were short on bells and candles; the former because apart from Mme's belly-dancing costume we just don't have many such things in the house, the latter because, we suspect, Raincoaster thought they tasted nice.

High Paisley went with, presumably to ensure compliance with the rather merciful restrictions set by the parole board. We feel that after what happened Raincoaster was lucky to escape town in one piece and unincarcerated, but the judge seemed to know her from somewhere. He kept forking the Evil Eye at her. So banishment rather than burning at the stake was really quite nice of him.

However, there is one dark cloud on the horizon. Raincoaster has threatened to return--Within the month!

We need lumber, nails, gunpowder ... Defend the refrigerator!


At 9:00 a.m., Anonymous azahar said...

Or just get a fridge with an ice-maker. Easy peasy. You men are always making mountains out of molehills...

So did you see that I tagged you a few days ago?

At 9:43 a.m., Blogger Metro said...

Well I'm not the one whining about a lack of ice in these parts.

In fact, since the departure of a certain betentacled entity, no-one is!

Eerie co-incidence, that.

At 9:44 a.m., Blogger Metro said...

Oh, and I spotted the tag. Just ahven't had a lot of time. Give me a day or two.

At 9:48 p.m., Anonymous raincoaster said...

Fuck gunpowder: you need GIN.

Also, ice cube trays. I mean, I could open up the hood of the Nash and grab a few likely-looking hollow bits, but the oil slicks go better with bourbon than a fine juniper product.

At 8:09 a.m., Blogger Metro said...



Put your analyst on danger pay.

At 11:39 p.m., Anonymous raincoaster said...

You hid the ice cube trays. I know you had them, because I saw them last year. You HID the ice cube trays. What kind of human being hides the ice cube trays (and then his wife complains that my Stoli Cosmos are too strong).

At 11:55 p.m., Blogger Metro said...

Okay, so now we have the Raincoaster Ice Cube Tray Conspiracy Theory.

I blame cigarette-holder-man, myself.

As for Stoli Cosmos, yeah ... she did too. Odd, considering who was whingeing about being hungover the next day.

Any idea who that could be? Raise a tentacle ... anyone?

At 10:00 a.m., Anonymous Anonymous said...

High Paisley? Wouldn't "Low Paisley" be more appropriate, or am I missing something?
Thanks for the beer.


At 9:02 p.m., Anonymous Stiletto said...

Oh sorry I missed the party!

At 5:10 a.m., Blogger Metro said...

Our loss entirely, Stiletto, I'm sure.

However I have heard a rumour that you're thinking of a trip up this way to adopt something squidlike.

If said one made it there, 'twould be the work of 14,400 seconds to find oneself out here.

We cannot deliver Gucci. But if you can deal with excesses of sunshine, beach and wine then we do offer a package.

The streets are crowded this time of year with tourists, some quite muscly and tattooed ... Make sure you have a permit.


Post a Comment

<< Home