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Old 03-14-2006, 02:38 PM   #303
Eidolon of a Took
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And so then began the joyous celebration phase of the soaring climax. This required much feasting, dancing, feasting, singing, feasting, charades, feasting, and an all night Parcheesi tournament. The Velour and the MotleyCrewShip mingled freely for a time in the euphoria that comes from partaking of a Doubly Delectable Death by Chocolate Pudding Cake, and all were really deliriously happy.

Manuël himself was so giddy with the success of the rockin’ party that he got out his guitar and treated his fellow sentient beings to a jam session. Those who were not too dignified or jaded to do so danced and cheered as he got his groove on, and by the end he was feeling so exceedingly grooved that he made this noble proclamation:

“Like, dudes! And dudettes! It’s been a really non-bogus night, and I hope you’re all having an excellent time! This most excellent party couldn’t have happened without the help of you, our little friends from Muddled-mirth! And so, I, Manuël Santana, like, do hereby grant you all one wish, except for the hobbit-dude who already got more favors than he deserved!”

(This was well and good, since Windsor would probably have wished that an unfortunate accident befall Vogonwë in such a manner that Pimpi might be left in need of comfort, and Manuël, honoring his most non-heinous proclamation, would have rather heinously pushed Vogy off a cliff.)

Anyway, there was much cheering in the face of this proclamation. Unfortunately, since everyone was a bit punch drunk with the festivities, many of the Itship made silly and frivolous wishes. Leninia asked for a pair of shoes like Prada wore. The Gateskeeper yearned after a pair of rhinestone studded horn-rimmed glasses. Gravlox asked for a mirror. Reeperneep desired that another battle await him in the future. Halfempton hoped that he might have more face time if another battle should await him in the future. Kuruharan asked for many gullible and rich people to come his way. Chrysopholax wished that those people be fat and young. Sueim wished that certain people who insisted on calling him Grralph would just stop.

Merisu, alone did not make a wish, for she had everything she could hope to wish for right here: her beloved, better-than-the-last-model Gravlox, and her unrent Ent. Also it made her exceedingly happy to see all her friends exceedingly happy, so she could not think of anything to make it better. Yes, she is really quite cute and selfless, isn’t she?

Pimpiowyn of all Itshippers had enough presence of mind to remember that she and Vogonwë had come to Valleyum for more than just opportunities for epic poems and shieldmaidenry. In a piece of ridiculously good luck, it just so happened that they had come with a request for Manuël (which in all the hoo-fla-fla surrounding Mogûl and the Ent, had been put on the back burner. Waaaaaay on the back burner.)

“Manuël, sir, or dude,” she said respectfully, “my fiancé and I have a wish for you.”

“Yes, I would like to write the best poe--”

“Not that,” Pimpi hissed, silencing her true love with a well placed elbow. “Vogonwë here is half-elven, and would like to request you grant him permanently the immortality of an Elf.”

“Actually, I think I would rather write the best poe--”

“AND I, as his fiancée, would like to request that we both be allowed to stay in Valleyum, he as an Elf and me as an Elf-friend.”

“Done and, like, done!” declared Manuël jovially.

“Oooh, is there going to be, like, a wedding?” Prada gushed. “I just love weddings! Do you need a wedding planner? I love planning weddings! We could have another party celebrating the wedding!”

“Another party? Dudette! Rock ooooon!” Manuël said, and played an enthusiastic riff on his guitar.

And lo! throughout the Velour the news traveled that tomorrow would see another gratuitous celebration, and as each heard the news each gave each other high fives and exclaimed, “Dude/tte! Excellent! Party on!”


Morning dawned to find the Itshippers and Velour alike sadder and wiser, except for Pimpi and Chrysopholax, who were both ready for a healthy breakfast. Luckily for Pimpi there was enough food on hand to satisfy the most voracious of Dragons and Half-Halfthing things alike, though were it came from exactly and who prepared it was a mystery left unsolved due to apathy.

While Vogonwë moaned and worried what vast quantities of Doubly Delectable Death by Chocolate Pudding Cake would do to his pristine Elvish complexion, Pimpi set about the important task of Planning the Wedding. She wrote out invitations for every last Itshipper, even the ones who had died or were otherwise absent. Getting the invitations to these lost members proved rather difficult, as they were dead or otherwise absent. But, resourceful little holbytla that she was, she did not let this stop her.

She went out early that morning to Tan-Quickly-Hill, armed with a pair of invitations, a brandy tumbler, and a bottle of spirits. She ceremoniously filled the tumbler with brandy and dipped an invitation to Earnur Etceteron therein, then set it on top of Orogarn Two’s tombstone, pinning his invitation underneath lest the wandering wind blow it away. Then, the insane little half-halfing nodded in satisfaction of an utterly pointless and morbid job well done.

The tumbler sat on Orogarn Two’s tombstone for many years, until one day some hapless Elf came along and drank from it. Soon after he died in paroxysms of gut-wrenching pain, because everyone knows that to drink brandy off the tombstone of a Hero is in bad taste, and therefore cursed.

Pimpi, not knowing the fate that would befall this poor unnamed lout because of her symbolic actions, whistled happily as she went and delivered the invitations to the rest of the Itship.

Last edited by Diamond18; 03-17-2006 at 01:48 PM. Reason: names, precious, names
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