"Honestly, Littlemanpoet! When will you learn to behave yourself?" Child came crashing through the wall with little of the finesse of the younger parrtygoers. She had one hand perched on her plump hip while the other was wagging in the air in Imp's direction. "Even if I am polite enough not to take your head off, surely Aiwendil or Davem or what's his name Derufin will surely oblige. And if you're going to accuse me of something, you might as well make it something interesting, other than simple overindulgence."
Child cleared her voice and harmoniously recited:
Sharon liked her Tolkien with gin;
saying with raised glass and a grin,
"Like Frodo's two faces
my thinking embraces
all the multitudes of sin
that makes Mordor spin....
"Alright, alright," she growled in response. "I could have done better. Only my barrow is a mess, and I couldn't find my rhyming dictionary in all the piles of stuff left sitting around."
Last edited by Child of the 7th Age; 05-01-2005 at 01:54 PM.
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