Monday, June 29, 2009

Dragon and hooligan juice.

It's Monday and I'm feeling a little 'omgekrap' (something that really should only happen to compost heaps.)


So I thought we'd do something different. Sentence or paragraph serial football...

I put up a paragraph. Next person (any of you) puts up a follow on - which must make some sense please. A sentence or a short paragraph - which I have to extend. Then the next. The one catch is if you've been a rotten bastij and painted me into a corner... I can challenge and the writer has to follow on with a logical extension. Let's see if we can steer it to a short of 500-1500 words.


__________


So your mama taught you to say please and thank-you. Not wipe your nose on your sleeve and not to talk with your mouth full. All of life's important little lessons. Mine should have added "and do not take up a challenge to feed hooligan juice to a Dragon."


Next?

20 comments:

Amanda Green said...

Maybe if she had, I wouldn't be in this mess. But, to be honest, I wouldn't have listened. So I'd still be here, without clue one about what to do next.

matapam said...

It was a long way down one way, and a long way up the other way. The ledge had been nice and cozy, just me and the baby dragon (What? Do I look stupid enough to try and dose a full grown dragon? Shut up.) Cozy. Until I gave the baby a swig of the hooligan juice. Ever seen a drunken baby dragon practicing his fire breathing?

Dave Freer said...

Amanda, Matapam :-)

So your mama taught you to say please and thank-you. Not wipe your nose on your sleeve and not to talk with your mouth full. All of life's important little lessons. Mine should have added "and do not take up a challenge to feed hooligan juice to a Dragon."

Maybe if she had, I wouldn't be in this mess. But, to be honest, I wouldn't have listened. So I'd still be here, without clue one about what to do next. Here I was stuck on a ledge with a baby dragon. Climbing up here had been bad enough. If I hadn't drunk some of the white lightning myself before I started up.

It was a long way down one way, and a long way up the other way. The ledge had been nice and cozy, just me and the baby dragon (What? Do I look stupid enough to try and dose a full grown dragon? Shut up.) Cozy. Until I gave the baby a swig of the hooligan juice. Ever seen a drunken baby dragon practicing his fire breathing?

And by the looks of that batwing shape in moonlight we were about to be joined here by mummy, coming to see why little darling was flaming. In the flare-light I saw a narrow little crevice. The kinda thing you couldn't squeeze into unless it squeeze or get roasted.
I should have stayed and been roasted. Goblins like those sort of tunnels.

matapam said...

I squeezed in feet first, the general idea being that I could contort my legs however needed to get the rest of myself in the hole, then pull my backpack in last and have at least that much insulation between me and any flames that might be aimed my direction. Right. The problem with that idea was, I started sliding and my instinctive grip only tightened on the backpack, rather something useful, like the edge of the hole. By the time my brain may my fingers relax their death grip on the pack, there wasn't anything else to grab.

Ori Pomerantz said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Ori Pomerantz said...

The thought occurred to me that my mother scrimped and saved every penny she had for tutors to teach me to be a gentleman. I could Savoir Faire with the best of them, tell the finest wines apart, and even discuss elvish poetry. All extremely useful skills at court for the upwardly mobile son of a laundress. No useless, barbaric skills for me. No cliff climbing. No uncouth languages.

I wish mom was here - she could speak goblin with the best of them.

matapam said...

All I ever learned from her were the exclamations she always punished if she heard me repeat them. My feet hit the ground, the pack hit my head and I used several of them before all the shiny eyes around me registered. Where's Mom when you need her, eh?

Chris McMahon said...

'Where's the rest of the hooligan juice? Come on. Give it up,' issued a rough voice out of the dark.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and failed.]
'Er...'
Another dark shape grew closer - almost close enough to see in the faint glow of their luminescent orbs.
'You don't think we'd bother coming up 'ere for nottin?' said the second, its nostrils flaring as it looked me up and down.

Mike said...

I closed my eyes, shook my head, and then tried to peer into the dark again. "Wait a minute, how come I understand you? Whatever happened to goblin gabber?"

One luminescent orb vanished for a moment, then winked back into sight. "We'se travelled, we have. Been all the way to the hooligan brewery. Twice."

The other one pushed a knobby fist into my shoulder. "And you don't look like someone who would understand real goblin talk. Do you know that you just asked your mommie for a blankie?"

They both laughed. It sounded just like when I dropped a rock in the flourmill and broke the grindstone.

"So where's the hooligan juice, mate?"

Sarah A. Hoyt said...

And then to make things worse, SHE defended me. SHE was a goblin, of course, and looked indistinguishable from the males save for a bow on top of her scraggly head and a come hither look in her eyes.

I didn't want to come hither.

Chris McMahon said...

Why I did it - I'm not quite sure. The fact is I actually did have a little bit of the hooligan juice left. Maybe it was the way the big one was grinding his teeth, or maybe the way they were slowly edging closer. Either way somehow the gourd reached my lips.
Gulp. Gulp. Gone.
Uh oh.
My eyes burned, the shadows in the caven falling back. A strange quicksilver fire was racing through me, rising from my stomach to my limbs.
And come-hither goblin-girl, suddenly looked a whole lot nicer.
In fact, she was kind of cute.

Mike said...

I licked my lips and said, "What's a nice goblin girl like you doing in a hole like this?"

Chris McMahon said...

And that's when the baby dragon ripped it way through the wall in a shower of dust and rock.
"MORE!!" it roared.
We barely had time to duck before the blast of brimstone flared over our heads.
'I'm coming goblin-girl!'

matapam said...

Thanks Dave, this was fun.

And interesting how different people took it in directions that I didn't expect. I was thinking rope, noting to tie to to expect, gulp, the baby dragon. Who would decide to try flying at an inconvenient time.

What were other people thinking?

Sarah A. Hoyt said...

um... I was thinking like a Sarah -- when character is in trouble, make it worse. Explains SO much, doesn't it?

matapam said...

::Wide eyed shock:: Sarah! You think bring in a female character is making the hero's dilemma worse? ;)

Mike said...

He's already losing his macho facing those bad goblins -- and then being protected by a girl? Oh, man, they'll drum you right out of the male hero club for that...

Are we done? 'cause there was a baby dragon looking for some juice, Mom is probably not too far behind, and the goblins are scuttling... meanwhile, back on the farm...

Dave Freer said...

I am terribly sorry people - I had more ISP hassles. The system has had more ups and downs and coming and goings than a Venetian brothel. I'll try and through and weave it all together... provided it all stays up.

Dave Freer said...

And yes, it was a lot of fun. I wanted to play too!

matapam said...

And all you need is some sort of resolution to the story, then you can beat it into shape.

So, I walked into the Tavern with Gobby on my arm. The dim lantern light helped a lot. In as much as I'd never walked into the Tavern (nor out) with anything female, my standing with the usual crowd tripled.

Grandy shoved himself to his feet. "Getten some last nookie, be fer ye take on the dragon?"

I blinked at him in astonishment, then laughed. "That was a great joke. Do I really look stupid enough to take a challenge like that?"