The Saga Continues
Sep. 17th, 2008 12:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellisonSo, yesterday was an interesting day. It started off dull and grumpy then got somewhat better when I discover ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_unhurt_ had succumbed to the baffling lure of Twilight.
This somehow led to talk of werelobsters and, obviously, Deadliest Catch cross-overs. Inspiration followed and what was MEANT to be a brief and silly story emerged.
Comments on said story last night had me crying with laughter (seriously. Poor being_here was on teh phone at the time and had to give up trying to talk to me because i could not speak. Or breathe). Further Inspiration followed. Then further comments.
And so, we have more. Feel free to skip on by if overlong, rambling nonsense about werelobsters and in-jokes isn't your cup of tea ;)
The Sig, having recovered from the shock, took charge again. Ordering the crew back to work with a few choice words, he dragged Hugh to his feet and thrust him towards the sleeping quarters. “Get in there and stay there” he growled “It’s a slow process and a small bite, so we have time. Just…” he paused to consider his phrasing “avoid blood flow to the Affected Area, it speeds up the process”.
Hugh considered this “You mean no…”
“No ANYTHING” Sig snapped “Leave it ALONE”. The door slammed, only to be kicked back open a few minutes later and a pile of magazines landed on Hugh’s bunk.
“Read through those. There’s an article in one of them that might help explain. Now, I’m going to call in some experts then, if you don’t mind, some of us have fucking ship to run. Oh, and take this.” A bag of ice followed the magazines.
Scattered across the bunk were several well thumbed issues of Crustacean Fancy One in particular caught his eye -
Resigning himself to the rest of this crazy trip (he’d always found that it was best to just go with the drugs, fighting them only made things weirder), he adjusted his icepack (man it was COLD) and started reading.
The article, by some crazy dude called Wingnut Sebastian (again supporting his theory that this was drug induced. NO-ONE had a name like that) a man with far too strong a fondness for Tweed, if his photo was anything to go by, was Informative, Educational and, under any other circumstances, would have been dull as hell. There weren’t even any fucking pictures! Not his kind of centrefold at all.
Just endless waffling about something called ‘Svipukrabbi’ or ‘Langust’ and God knows what else. Myths, legends, folklore, what good was this crap to him? What was going to HAPPEN to him? And again the emphasis on cutting off. He did NOT like this. Not at all. He like lil’ Hugh the way he was, in all his unsullied, Canadian Glory.
The chicks had never had a problem; some of them were even more fascinated, particularly the Americans. A particularly fond memory of one group of fangirls surfaced, the American doll. Hellsomething? Borer? She hadn’t *looked* bored, that’s for sure. And the Scottish chick. They’d LOVED it. The Scottish one fainted. After a lot of arm flailing. The American one hadn’t tho… Hugh suddenly remember the Sig’s warning, reapplied the ice and went back to reading, but it was so dull he soon just fell asleep, mumbling something about "oh yeah, frilly…”.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the ocean, Wingnut Sebastian settled down in his smoking jacket for the evening. The peat fire was burning, the tea and buttered crumpets were at his side and all he had to do was decide what to read. His serenity was brutally shattered when his dearest friend, Alphonse burst into the room, looking frightfully dishevelled and over-wrought.
“Alphonse, dear chap, what can you be thinking? Manners, my boy, manners! Now, tea?”.
“ Terribly sorry, but it’s urgent. I just received a most worrying message. The ALARM has been sounded!”
“Yes my boy, I gathered something was up, but, which alarm?” As an International Man of Mystery, Wingnut was on call for any number of emergencies, from Terrorism to Zombie attack.
Alphonse paused and took a sip of tea to compose himself “It’s from a boat, out in the Bering Sea – you remember that trip we took, so long ago, with the young blond chap, runs his own boat now?” Wingnut nodded; he remembered young Hansen very well indeed.
“He’s just called. They’ve found him! He even has The Claw!”
Wingnut almost dropped his crumpet “You mean… the Svipukrabbi? Did they describe it? Could it be…”
“There’s more Wingnut, he bit one of the crew before they realised what they’d caught!”
The languor gone, Wingnut leapt from his chair “He’s bitten someone? What have they done? Have they removed the affected limb? Cauterised it? Has there been sucking? Tell me everything!”
Alphonse explained the precise and problematic nature of this particular bite.
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Wingnut “We are going to need more help with this one. A mere removal won’t work. We need The Ritual.”
Reaching for his Tweed Overcoat and cap, he motioned for Alphonse to follow him.
“But I thought that had died out completely?” his erstwhile companion interjected.
“Not quite. I have tracked down two remaining devotees in the Scottish Highlands. We shall collect them, then head for the Northwestern. And, with so little time to lose, I fear there is only one way we can get there in time”.
The fearless Alphonse grinned “Let us perform the Call then! You know there’s nothing better I like than a ride on the Giant Cock!”.
Wingnut sighed. He loved Alphonse dearly, but sometimes he could be terribly crude. He produced the Special Golden Key from his Downstairs Pocket and mounted the stairs.
“Come then Alphonse, we must crank up the Cock Summoner and be off!”
Thesme is writing the next installment. Be Afraid.
Also. Someday, someone should teach me how to write BRIEFLY. Short things.
_unhurt_ had succumbed to the baffling lure of Twilight. This somehow led to talk of werelobsters and, obviously, Deadliest Catch cross-overs. Inspiration followed and what was MEANT to be a brief and silly story emerged.
Comments on said story last night had me crying with laughter (seriously. Poor being_here was on teh phone at the time and had to give up trying to talk to me because i could not speak. Or breathe). Further Inspiration followed. Then further comments.
And so, we have more. Feel free to skip on by if overlong, rambling nonsense about werelobsters and in-jokes isn't your cup of tea ;)
The Sig, having recovered from the shock, took charge again. Ordering the crew back to work with a few choice words, he dragged Hugh to his feet and thrust him towards the sleeping quarters. “Get in there and stay there” he growled “It’s a slow process and a small bite, so we have time. Just…” he paused to consider his phrasing “avoid blood flow to the Affected Area, it speeds up the process”.
Hugh considered this “You mean no…”
“No ANYTHING” Sig snapped “Leave it ALONE”. The door slammed, only to be kicked back open a few minutes later and a pile of magazines landed on Hugh’s bunk.
“Read through those. There’s an article in one of them that might help explain. Now, I’m going to call in some experts then, if you don’t mind, some of us have fucking ship to run. Oh, and take this.” A bag of ice followed the magazines.
Scattered across the bunk were several well thumbed issues of Crustacean Fancy One in particular caught his eye -
Resigning himself to the rest of this crazy trip (he’d always found that it was best to just go with the drugs, fighting them only made things weirder), he adjusted his icepack (man it was COLD) and started reading.
The article, by some crazy dude called Wingnut Sebastian (again supporting his theory that this was drug induced. NO-ONE had a name like that) a man with far too strong a fondness for Tweed, if his photo was anything to go by, was Informative, Educational and, under any other circumstances, would have been dull as hell. There weren’t even any fucking pictures! Not his kind of centrefold at all.
Just endless waffling about something called ‘Svipukrabbi’ or ‘Langust’ and God knows what else. Myths, legends, folklore, what good was this crap to him? What was going to HAPPEN to him? And again the emphasis on cutting off. He did NOT like this. Not at all. He like lil’ Hugh the way he was, in all his unsullied, Canadian Glory.
The chicks had never had a problem; some of them were even more fascinated, particularly the Americans. A particularly fond memory of one group of fangirls surfaced, the American doll. Hellsomething? Borer? She hadn’t *looked* bored, that’s for sure. And the Scottish chick. They’d LOVED it. The Scottish one fainted. After a lot of arm flailing. The American one hadn’t tho… Hugh suddenly remember the Sig’s warning, reapplied the ice and went back to reading, but it was so dull he soon just fell asleep, mumbling something about "oh yeah, frilly…”.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the ocean, Wingnut Sebastian settled down in his smoking jacket for the evening. The peat fire was burning, the tea and buttered crumpets were at his side and all he had to do was decide what to read. His serenity was brutally shattered when his dearest friend, Alphonse burst into the room, looking frightfully dishevelled and over-wrought.
“Alphonse, dear chap, what can you be thinking? Manners, my boy, manners! Now, tea?”.
“ Terribly sorry, but it’s urgent. I just received a most worrying message. The ALARM has been sounded!”
“Yes my boy, I gathered something was up, but, which alarm?” As an International Man of Mystery, Wingnut was on call for any number of emergencies, from Terrorism to Zombie attack.
Alphonse paused and took a sip of tea to compose himself “It’s from a boat, out in the Bering Sea – you remember that trip we took, so long ago, with the young blond chap, runs his own boat now?” Wingnut nodded; he remembered young Hansen very well indeed.
“He’s just called. They’ve found him! He even has The Claw!”
Wingnut almost dropped his crumpet “You mean… the Svipukrabbi? Did they describe it? Could it be…”
“There’s more Wingnut, he bit one of the crew before they realised what they’d caught!”
The languor gone, Wingnut leapt from his chair “He’s bitten someone? What have they done? Have they removed the affected limb? Cauterised it? Has there been sucking? Tell me everything!”
Alphonse explained the precise and problematic nature of this particular bite.
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Wingnut “We are going to need more help with this one. A mere removal won’t work. We need The Ritual.”
Reaching for his Tweed Overcoat and cap, he motioned for Alphonse to follow him.
“But I thought that had died out completely?” his erstwhile companion interjected.
“Not quite. I have tracked down two remaining devotees in the Scottish Highlands. We shall collect them, then head for the Northwestern. And, with so little time to lose, I fear there is only one way we can get there in time”.
The fearless Alphonse grinned “Let us perform the Call then! You know there’s nothing better I like than a ride on the Giant Cock!”.
Wingnut sighed. He loved Alphonse dearly, but sometimes he could be terribly crude. He produced the Special Golden Key from his Downstairs Pocket and mounted the stairs.
“Come then Alphonse, we must crank up the Cock Summoner and be off!”
Thesme is writing the next installment. Be Afraid.
Also. Someday, someone should teach me how to write BRIEFLY. Short things.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 03:49 pm (UTC)Wingnut Sebastian is an International Man of Mystery, who often pops up, along with his good friend Alphonse Chumleigh-Warner. And the weevils. Also briefly Mr Pinchy, Thesme's special lobster friend, but they had a bit of a falling out here (http://hellison.livejournal.com/279415.html)
Actually, I shouldn't tyr to explain, I only dig myself in deeper ;p
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:01 pm (UTC)Yes, but it's entertaining to watch *g*
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:19 pm (UTC)Also, I am increasingly jealous of your icon collection!
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:32 pm (UTC)[note how I'm not making any sudden moves... ;p ]
As for the icons - there was
T'others I've just picked up here or there, or (with the trimmed down images) I've done myself. Trim & resize is the extent of my capabilities.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:36 pm (UTC)My main ability re icons seems to be making very very bad ones - MS paint is a wonderful thing!
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:17 pm (UTC)and, where is the Next Thrilling Installment eh?? Poor hugh could be overtaken by werelobsterism by they time they get there! (also, i have NFI what happens once they do :p)
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 06:16 pm (UTC)