WHOLESOME TALES

"not enough water"-leelee

Buckie contains water, a bit.

"other liquids are polluting the bloodstream"

That is unproven by any reputable Scotsdale boffin. Forumshire Buckie has 0.0001% miruvor in it for Illuvatars sake, its practially a health drink.

Pettytyrant101 wrote:"not enough water"-leelee

Buckie contains water, a bit.

"other liquids are polluting the bloodstream"

That is unproven by any reputable Scotsdale boffin. Forumshire Buckie has 0.0001% miruvor in it for Illuvatars sake, its practially a health drink.

There there dear, I know you were speaking in the English language, sort of, so we will pass that by. Here is a drink of water, remember that, now sip it slowly and then lie down. I will cover you in my Elven cloak and tip toe away. Sleep well.

Why am I sleeping under the stars in a pleasantly scented cloak with a strong sensation of having being patronized by an elf? And more worrying why do I not seem to mind? There's elvish magic afoot here or I'm a english hobbit.

Aaaw, the Crabbitmeister is in love!

Oh tricksey, tricksey, leelee, I do believe you've had us worked out from the first! Not getting the jokes here? You show us in your more recent posts that you know exactly what we're like! Tricksey, tricksy, yes you are! Out-sillied even Mr Tyrant - and with him it comes naturally!

"Aaaw, the Crabbitmeister is in love! "- Eldo

I refute that utterly Eldo, its nothing of the sort, just a cold or something I've picked up, probably a side effect of those Wholesome Tales in the Bugle leading to a temporary dip in crabbit levels, and um, an urge to pick flowers, nice ones, oh bugger I hate elves and their enchantments!!

Pettytyrant101 wrote:"Aaaw, the Crabbitmeister is in love! "- Eldo

I refute that utterly Eldo, its nothing of the sort, just a cold or something I've picked up, probably a side effect of those Wholesome Tales in the Bugle leading to a temporary dip in crabbit levels, and um, an urge to pick flowers, nice ones, oh bugger I hate elves and their enchantments!!

Just so Eldorion, that is nonsense. Have you joined a girls' book club or something, really! However I think that it had nothing to do with enchantments( i am much grieved Petty that you have an aversion to Elves, why may I ask), but rather just that little bit of pure water,only half a cup, went right to work and washed off some of the beer and skittles( I told you so little dwarf) and voila, the tips of the crystal heart came forth in shining glory. Nothing else.
Dear Petty what a time you have had, and I only meant to refresh you with the water and cover you against the cold and damp. poor dear.

Petty only pretends to have an aversion to elves, I think.

leelee wrote:Just so Eldorion, that is nonsense.

I think Petty might have more feelings than he's letting on, despite his sister's best efforts in The Daily Purist thread.

LEELEE'S WHOLESOME TALE (FOR RINGDROTTEN)


Being a Messianic Jewess I hold the Mass like Tolkien did as sacred and the host as holy and nourishing as the Elves 'waybread' and it was after Mass one day that I knew in my heart I had to do more than the usual street work.

I was passing a destitute young man and something about his countenance broke my heart. He was clean and neat and there was such a kindness in his eyes. I gave him the last money I had to give for the day and he said he had been praying for just that sum so he could get a certain thing.

We began talking though I confess it is hard for me to talk to men other than my family, I am very shy that way. He told me his dream was to get to a huge city on the coast but had not found work or a way to get there.

But he was a patient sort.

He also told me he was going to feed his younger friend whose mother had been told by her boyfriend "me or your kid.'

She chose the boyfriend so T....had been caring for C and they lived in the park.

I decided to bring them dinner each night in the park, hot if possible for that is a luxury to them.

As taught in St. James to learn how others suffer by suffering with them, I also decided to eat only the same number of meals as those two go which was basically what I brought.

After only a week I was sniffling, cold always and weary just like they were. I prayed for extra work to pay for tickets for them to get to Vancouver and the very next day I was offered a painting job (I used to paint houses) for around six hundred or so. I rejoiced, did the work , got paid and came in the dark of an early morning to the bus stop. There sat the two, trusting in my coming. I gave them the ticket money and spending money and T a st. Benedict medal, he loved them, and suddenly my heart felt broken at their leaving.

I gave them the name of the Nigerian Priest who would take them in and help them along.

Then came a dreadful dirty and 'known' in the city as a bad hat who took from people and was a user. He wandered up to me to beg money. T rebuked him and then took out his own newly aquired money and gave the man some and told him not to try to use anybody else. The bus pulled out with my dearest boys on it and as they waved at me tears came down my face.

But Ringdrotten when I got home and knew I could eat breakfast it was plain because I was tired and not well , but it tasted so wonderful , better than any food or drink I could remember. I can just see you and your friend and that is a poignant picture.


THE BIG BOOK OF WHOLESOME TALES
THE ARCHET BUGLE
Sponsored by
Odo R. Banks, esquire

BOB AND GOD

the sweetly spoken sycophant
all glim in giving glows,
made oratory to Him omnipotent
who sits the heavenly throne.

'oh Lord, my humble love
i duly display discreetly'

that’s what he hymed to Him above
while wisely winking secretly

but grandiloquent goodly God
gave a look in knowingness
'you are a cringing craven, bob
here, take down the devil’s home address'

From WHOLESOME POEMS (10/7/1981)

Wisey Banks

Your tale made it to this thread, leelee! It's about the highest honour we can give a tale around here, so you should be proud

A TALE OF ODOLAD THE OZHOBBIT

Once upon a time there was a young Ozhobbit named Odolad. Odolad lived in Rushock Bog. One day he went into Needlehole with a few pennies he had saved up. He went with a friend, who we will call Garro (his real name was Gary), who also had a few pennies. They were looking around the shops (I can't remember what for) and when crossing a car park.. err... wagon park... they chanced to see an old vagrant with a long gray beard (this wasn't a wizard, but a real person).

Odolad and Garro noticed that the Old Man, who we might call "Old Man" for convenience, was going from rubbish bin to rubbish bin looking for cigarette butts. Now, don't ask me what got into those Ozhobbit boys' heads, but they came up with an idea. They would spend their money on a packet of Craven A cigarettes for Old Man. They could only afford a 10 pack, which pack size they had back in about 1972 (by the Forumshire Reckoning). This was long before cigrarettes started causing cancer btw.

So that's exactly what those two young Ozhobbit's did, they bought those fags. It was in a time when eleven or twelve year olds could buy cigaraettes, for their Dad's, of course, but who was to know?

Now, when the Ozhobbits went and gave Old Man the cigraettes, he gave them the biggest joyful grin Odolad ever saw. Maybe, he has never seen a purer sign of simplest 'thanks' - ever!

Odolad and Garro walked off, and neither of them felt bad for the loss of their money, just a feeling that they had done something nice for another human being.

Of course, Odolad grew up to believe you should earn what you get, and giving away your money (or gifts) to others (except in return for something else) is not really the thing to do. In his defence, that was before Odolad grew up and became Respectable. Further to that, on a spiritual level, if you do something for someone else, it must be done with the expectation that the helped person should be encouraged to attend the local Illuvataran Church, for that would be the respectable thing to do.

THE WHOLESOME BOOK OF TALES
Published by
THE ARCHET BUGLE
Sponsored by
Odo R. Banks, esquire.

Petty -

Now, now Squach- I'm cured! No ill effects whatsoever or wishful thinking about elves, or quiet walks in the park under the moonlight hoping for an encounter- certainly not. Pretty cured me with a swift haggis to the essentials. Before I knocked her out cold with some buckie and threw her in the river.

Watch yourself Petty, we elvish women can leave you deaf and dumb if you get too close..... ask Beren

Why so scornful of poor leelee, Petty?

A vicissitude of love. One moment it's flowers and chocolates and singing under the Evenstar, then it's horrible scorn, and then it's making up passionately under the Evenstar... Love's like that...

THE TALE OF ÓDOÍ THE BLUE

Dodo Decides to Go on a Jaunt

Once upon time, long long ago - indeed, at the start of the Third Age, but long after the Elvish Immemorial Age had faded away, and, yet, not all that long after the Second Age had dwindled with the Necromuncher's overthrow - there lived a race of Little Folk on the banks of the Great River, which was later called Anduin but was then called, if only by the Little Folk, “The River”; this because they were a practical people and had no idea what “Anduin” meant, nor had they ever heard it referred to by that name, though, if they had of had a Tardis, they might have been able find out; though, sadly, that kind of thing could only happen in Science Fiction, not Fantasy, at least, back in those days when people had a more respectable notion of what Science Fiction and Fantasy were, and where one ended and the other began, they being more wholesome times, and definitely Pre-Post-Modernist.

The little people were hobbits: Fallohides, in fact. In the bank of the river there were many holes where they lived. One of these Fallohides was was Dodo Banks, (the father of 'Odoi' - later, though) and some say Dodo was born with a death wish. Others say he was “fated” somehow, because he was named after an extinct Mauritian bird, which is of course absurd, because dodo’s weren’t even extinct back then. This is the trouble you have when you read back modern history into mythological history, anachronisms bloom and multiply.

Anyhow, Dodo was an interesting sort. Where other Fallohides stayed at home, fishing in The River and grubbing around for tubers and wild oats in the floodplain, Dodo would spend his days adventuring. He’d pack a sack with tubers, oats and dried fish, and off he’d go, on jaunts, which was what adventures were called then. Not that Dodo went any further than ten or so miles, for he was pretty useless when it came to doing anything for himself, relying on others to feed and clothe him, like teenagers really (though not your Ally type, more your Raspberry Squash type).

Oh he had one attribute, he could make up silly songs (oh yes, he was a Bard). He amused folk with his silly songs accompanied by the nasal sound of his nosethimble. In case you don't know, the nosethimble sounded inferior to a harp, but never as bad as the bagpipes. It was a wonderful instrument really, which, when inserted in the nostrils, could be blown even as one sang. They were shaped surprisingly like modern nose plugs, joined with a clip, and carved from the thighbone of a wild pig, because pigs weren't domesticated yet.

Anyhow, one day, Dodo decided to go on a jaunt to the Greenwood. He had always seen the dark smudge on the eastern horizon, but had never tried to go there. As you probably know, the Greenwood was a dark and mysterious place full of elves and monsters, and enchantment, both light and dark – and occasionally even grey, though some might say that grey more properly refers to “religion” and not magic as such. Anyway, whatever the case, Dodo said to his Grandmother, “I’m going off to the Greenwood, Granny.”

Granny gasped, “Why the dickens would you do something stupid like that?”

“As to that,” Dodo said mysteriously (possibly even obliquely), “I cannot say.” And with that he walked away from his comfortable sandy hole in the bank.

Granny stood at the entrance to her hole, watching as her grandson disappeared into the long grass of the floodplain. At last, she shook her head gravely. “I have absolutely no idea why he would do something like that.”

And, you know, neither do I.


(2)


Dodo had not gone very far when he heard a sound of singing coming from the east. Immediately, he crouched as deep into the grass as he could.


"Oh rolling in the gloaming in the grass of Middle Earth,
Tumbling and bumbling with my tummy all a'rumbling,
Oh jiving in the shriving while little ducks are diving,
I'm rolling on down to the river bank.

I'm cartwheeling in the peeling of a giant Navel orange,
I'm twirling and I'm curling while my thoughts go all a'swirling,
Oh I'm groaning and I'm moaning, my past I am disowning,
I'm rolling on down to the river bank."

There was more of it, but I think you get the drift.

The most disturbing thing (if that squeaky voice in itself wasn't bad enough) was that the voice was getting closer. An impulsive voice that somehow managed to sound both disobedient, ill-mannered and headstrong. The kind of voice one would be less than keen to meet, because one could only imagine the pouty mouth and severe facial exterior those lips might belong to.

And, yes, it sounded like Raspberry Squash because it was Raspberry Squach (this was of course early in her adventures and well before she didn't go to Valinor).

"Oh by Illuvatar's hairy chest," said Raspberry Squash as she rolled over the top of Dodo, who by now lay face down in the soft grassy ground. "Bumpity bump. Fancy there being a rock in the middle of this grassy plain. Well, I never,"

And off she rolled, surprised, but hardly put off. Soon her voice faded into the distance...

"Roiling in the boiling while all good folk are toiling,
Crabbity with a rabbity, with the workers seeking parity...."

Dodo gingerly go up once he was sure Raspberry Squash had gone. He was shaking in his feet (having no boots to shake in) and he moved on toward Mirkwood on wobbly legs, both pleased, relieved and proud that he had survived first serious adventure.

To the Editor,

How come Raspberry Squash keeps getting mentioned?

Yes, she's cute and wilfull and makes a most fine anti-heroine, but what about us others!

How about Orwell the Horrendous?

Or Eldo the Bamboozling?

Or Petty the Meek?

Or Ally the Darn Splendid?

Or Ringdrotten the Danish Servant?

Or GB the Pompiferous!

Or Leelee the Planetarian!

Or Baingil the Very Painful!

Or Saradoc the Talking Donkey!

Or Odo the Devilishly Handsome.

Or Pretty Tyrant the Pretty Tyrant!

Or Porgy the... the... the... ...

Or Wisey the Indifferous!

Or Biffo the Braney!

Or Kafria the Kaffertirian!

Come on, Archet Bugle. Get your authors to write stuff that entertains everyone, not just about your favorite little forumer, Squach! It's unfair how you're treating the rest of us!

yours faithfully,
Orwell

"Or Petty the Meek?"

Are you looking for a Rasberry Squashed face Orwell?

Sorry, Petty... I meant: "The Pretty Weak." My mistake!

Or how about Tinuviel her Majesty
You can't leave her out!!!!!!!!!!!

Given the general tone of the given names Tin perhaps in his defence Orwell did not wish to sully the noble office of Queen by including you.
Alternatively you can just order his head be lopped off- that'll teach him. Or at least he will be unlikely to do it again.