Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Ben's an insy whinsy bit of a fool, and he's apparently incapable of listenning either. And I know I'm not supposed to be typing because it's bad for my stitches and healing in general, but I'm too drunk for it to hurt so it's aokay.

And so, without further adeu, I bring you the unmolested rendition of the last three halves of my newest piece of work, inspired by this increasingly shit situatiuon we find ourselves in:

Minstrel's cut her own face off
The Jester's noose draws tight
Old Zerosage returns from death
To stalk us in the night

And who the fuck is nocturne, eh?
And what the fuck's his game?
Through Reach the Boss has trolled us all
Consequences never be the same

Robert might'bve been the chance
But we all know how that ends
So let's just watch him find His name
So we can all get fucked again!

Oh poetry, oh noetry
Shout bingo, wont you dear!?
For while we drink and while I sign
Old He "that is" draws near

Oh yes, He comes to screw my plans
My theories effing A
And if it keeps right at this rate
I give myself a day!

And I can't give yo uthe rest of it because it doesn't count as forshadowing if you don't get the proportions right or just plain spell it out either, and my plan's not going to work unless i can get the story perfect and perfect stories don't spell shit out first they foreshadow. It has to fit, and that is too damned hard to do, I'll have you know. Too damned hard. I've had to cut back sooooooooooooooo much and now it's like the contingency to the contingency to the contingency to the backup plan's backup plan.

And yoiu know why? It's not your fault or anything, but there's not enough room with everybody else crowding about, and all the heroics get watered down and instead of Zeke Stramn getting enough sapce to save us all he end up getting relegated Mystic instead and instead of the dearest Sage fo Nothing sacrificing himself to end it all, we all work enough magic with our heads to make the whole thing piontless because you won't give him enough room to work with. Hell, if they can't do it, fricken pillars of awesomethat they are then I sure as hell won't be able to beat Him, will I? So contingency F-7 and a half or something. That one might work. There's room enough for half a plan.

And I just have to say sorry to past me for skipping out on your promise and posting up something that could possible be misconstrued as poetry if you squint and ignore the fact it's a drinking song. It's how drunk me rolls, and anyway I have a better plan than you so stuff it we're running with it!


  1. We're all going to ignore drunk me. He's an embarrassment to the Collins' name for one thing, and awfully whiny for another.

  2. He's funny, I'll give him that.

    And it's a pleasure to meet you, Hospitaller. I've seen your blog, and I have to congratulate you on what you're doing. It's a good thing to have going.