The nUMBERcRUNCHERS
The Numbacrobats.
The Accountantabats.
The Artsholes
The Acclowntants
The Rock bandits
The Roll your Onus
The Dark Sines
The Numerical Contortionists
The Cult de Sacks
The Mooney Bagus
She wished to be a David Lynchian kind of Rock Albatross. Associated with the Dark side but without getting her body wet. A spectator that appears to other less involved spectators as part of the general scene, a pattern on the wallpaper of the doghouse.
Gone are the days when one can make oodles of cashola out of the foibles of the artistically self obsessed, but she didn't let that stop her.
Armed with a cutting intellect and ability to recite pie backwards should the need arise she rose within the outside world as a mother figure swathed in white, in whose voluminous skirts one could hide when the taxman came a knocking.
They looked up to her and she fed on them, her delicate proboscis invisible to those who are used to dealing with less subtle vampires.
Turning from her darker instincts and to please family and appear intact, she married a kind of graceless bean counting troll. A scrooge in the most extreme sense of the word, he never smiled and only occasionally laughed. They issued forth two pixie-like daughters, displeasing the troll of course, he desired a son to teach his bean counting ways. But he doted on them in ways paternal that later were to become rigid and controlling. Oh, most terrifying when a pixie daughter begins to discover her powers as woman.
She installed him, irritability and all, in both of her palaces. She thought she could live, raise two daughters and toil at work with her hus-troll. She gave it a really good try and maybe it would have worked for a bit longer if she didn't install a bomb shell. Diana, the she-bitch of the antipodes.
In she came, all tight skirts clinging around her perfectly sized behind, silken singlets and golden skin shipped direct from Portugal. 'My daughter not as pretty as me, and doesn't even wear high heels!' she would titter in hearing of her daughter who she brought in to do the filing, and the troll would laugh uproariously. Soon they were teasing each other non stop, she about his rigidity, he showing his lack of imagination, about her lack of brains - of which she had plenty I assure you.
What do you think happened? I left in disgust too soon to find out. I hope it was something unexpected, but fear that people most often do exactly what is obvious.
The Accountantabats.
The Artsholes
The Acclowntants
The Rock bandits
The Roll your Onus
The Dark Sines
The Numerical Contortionists
The Cult de Sacks
The Mooney Bagus
She wished to be a David Lynchian kind of Rock Albatross. Associated with the Dark side but without getting her body wet. A spectator that appears to other less involved spectators as part of the general scene, a pattern on the wallpaper of the doghouse.
Gone are the days when one can make oodles of cashola out of the foibles of the artistically self obsessed, but she didn't let that stop her.
Armed with a cutting intellect and ability to recite pie backwards should the need arise she rose within the outside world as a mother figure swathed in white, in whose voluminous skirts one could hide when the taxman came a knocking.
They looked up to her and she fed on them, her delicate proboscis invisible to those who are used to dealing with less subtle vampires.
Turning from her darker instincts and to please family and appear intact, she married a kind of graceless bean counting troll. A scrooge in the most extreme sense of the word, he never smiled and only occasionally laughed. They issued forth two pixie-like daughters, displeasing the troll of course, he desired a son to teach his bean counting ways. But he doted on them in ways paternal that later were to become rigid and controlling. Oh, most terrifying when a pixie daughter begins to discover her powers as woman.
She installed him, irritability and all, in both of her palaces. She thought she could live, raise two daughters and toil at work with her hus-troll. She gave it a really good try and maybe it would have worked for a bit longer if she didn't install a bomb shell. Diana, the she-bitch of the antipodes.
In she came, all tight skirts clinging around her perfectly sized behind, silken singlets and golden skin shipped direct from Portugal. 'My daughter not as pretty as me, and doesn't even wear high heels!' she would titter in hearing of her daughter who she brought in to do the filing, and the troll would laugh uproariously. Soon they were teasing each other non stop, she about his rigidity, he showing his lack of imagination, about her lack of brains - of which she had plenty I assure you.
What do you think happened? I left in disgust too soon to find out. I hope it was something unexpected, but fear that people most often do exactly what is obvious.
posted by Face at 5:09 PM
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