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Old 07-09-2003, 09:47 PM   #3
The Barrow-Wight
Night In Wight Satin
 
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Sting

Orogarn Two gasped at the text of the crumbling parchment he held in his hands. For weeks he had delved through the ancient stacks of records kept deep beneath the Citibank of Minus Teeth, and he had found many useful documents that would surely aid him in his extradition and prosecution of the Entish thief. But never had he imagined to find an artifact of such historic importance.

For centuries rumor had insisted that such a chronicle lay buried amongst the financial registers of Grundor, but no one living had ever actually laid eyes upon it. Supposedy transcribed by Elros Car-Minicooper himself, the yellowed paper in Orogarn Two’s shaking fingers was none other than the fabled “Doolalliquendian Pie”, originally penned by the bewitched Smartiquendi bard Darren Stevens in the halls of Thingy. It recorded the almost-forgotten return of the Noodlar to Muddled-Mirth.

Orogarn Two read the poem, written in the traditional, flagrantly plageristic Noodelorean style, in awe.

A long, long time ago... few can still remember how
That Muzak used to make them smile.
But Mugglin knew he had a chance,
To make the angry Noodlars dance,
And maybe they would chill out for a while.
But Everlast had made them shiver,
And Feeblenor was now chopped liver,
Greedhog on the doorstep...
Hothead’s fatal misstep.
Doolalliquendi widows cried
And seven brothers’ seven brides,
For something touched them deep inside,
The day the Muzak died.

Soo..Bye, bye all you Valleyum guys
Kept us dreaming with your scheming, now we’ve opened our eyes
Without your bright Lights you’re just a bunch of small fries
Singing ‘love us or you’ll lose a great prize’
That’ll be the day that we die


So Mugglin sang of simple things
Of silver swords and golden Rings
Hoping it would calm his kin
But Noodlar blood runs thick and hot
And Muzak they had not forgot
And their patience began to wear thin
They shouted at him from the camp
’How can we live without the Lamps?’
‘Melvin has taken his spoils
He’s stolen our Silmaroils’
Mugg’ was a lonely Noodlar broncin' buck
Who’s people had just run amok
he knew he was out of luck
The day the Muzak died
They started singin'...

Bye, bye you lousy Valleyum guys
Got us steaming with your scheming, now we’ve opened our eyes
Without your bright Lights you’re just a bunch of small fries
We’ll never love you or your magical, mystical prize
That’ll be the day that we die


Orogarn Two stared in disbelief at the unfinished verse. He shuffled the papers around him in a vain search to find the continuation. It must be here!

“I’ve been down here too long,” he said to himself. “I must show this my father.”

He left the room and began the long climb to the Porcelain Throne far above.
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