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It was Christmas Eve and Mariagarita, The Dominos Matrix was exhausted from the wild and lively shapes she had thrown that evening during her Strictly Cam Dancing session with Tin Dice. That, and her daily alcohol consumption had conspired against her and now she slept soundly in her four poster bed after having finally passed out. It seems she had shaken “her little tush on the catwalk” a little too hard. A loud, gargled snore disturbed the peace causing the snow and ice to slide from the roof.
The night was calm and snow fell gently and silently on the tiny village of JC to cover it with a wildly inappropriate, virginal white blanket.
From the local Church, the singing of carols could be heard as local members of the JC community sang their praise of the new born king.
None sang more loudly than Tin Dice – not because he cared about baby Jesus but because he thought he was the new born king. A cardboard crown from Burger King was perched lopsidedly on his head.
Whinny Mouse mimed the words in between taking gulps of the communion wine. She was annoyed. Her imaginary boyfriend was drunk and had fallen over three times on the way to the Church. Finally, in an attempt to sober him up, she had dunked him in the font but he had then vomited in it. Horrified at this unacceptable, drunken behaviour, Whinny had no alternative but to dump him. Now she would be alone and even sadder for Christmas. She took another gulp of the wine. “Men,” she spat venomously. How she hated them for hurting her so.
MerryManOfPots had already consumed the body of Christ after cutting it into large doorstep wedges and toasting it on the altar candles. Caviar from the Pound shop had complemented his meal.
Annette Curtain was busy knitting a new stained glass window for the West Transept. It was a biblical love scene between an unsung, and much aggrieved heroine and Julius L Augustus. Intermittently, Annette drank an orange liquid from the communion goblet. Tin Dice had teased her saying it was “meths” but she had violently shook a knitting needle at him and insisted it was only Fanta.
Coming from a long line of tricoteuses, Annette, spying Tin Dice’s headdress narrowed her eyes in hate and muttered to herself, “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
Father Alias of Assisi – Side looked around at his congregation. Tin Dice was now singing his theme tune, “Rob the Builder, Can I screw it? Rob the Builder, If I can!”
“It wasn’t so much a Midnight Mass as a Midnight Mess,” he sighed to himself and grabbed the communion wine off of Whinny Mouse.
Back at Mariagarita’s house, the weather was a changing. The wind had whipped up and a turbulent snow storm had began. The lattice window banged violently against the side of her twenty five room mansion (which she could easily afford as she is after all, loaded.) Mariagarita snored loudly oblivious to it all which greatly annoyed the Ghost of Christmas Past.
His dramatic entrance, on the chime of one, through the window and accompanied by a mysterious, glowing ball of light had been ruined! Angrily, he stomped over to the snoring beauty and shook her. Mouth gaping open, Mariagarita caught her breath and snored loudly again. The Ghost of Christmas Past stared at her with disgust. “Pig in blanket” he muttered to himself before extending a fist and punching a salivating MerryManOfPots straight back out the window.
The Ghost of Christmas Past placed his hands on his hips and pondered his next move. If he didn’t wake The Dominos Matrix up soon the whole story would be pointless. Placing his hands above his head and wiggling his fingers, he leaned over Mariagarita and tried a genuine, ghostly woo:
“Woooooooooooooo!”
Nothing.
Then he sang to her:
“Wake up little flooooooooo zeeeeee, wake up!”
Nothing.
There was only one thing left to do – he opened his wallet and dangled his Nectar card in front of her. Her nose began to twitch at the smell of money. With eyes closed and nose twitching, Mariagarita’s head slowly began to rise from the pillow. Then, abruptly, it shot back down.
“Make it a £100k limit Platinum Card, Mr Ghost, and I’m all yours,” she demanded.
“And if I don’t?” inquired The Ghost of Christmas Past.
“Then I’ll shoot you dead with my 12 bore” Mariagarita replied.
The Ghost of Christmas Past sighed and replied, “I’m a ghost. I’m already dead.”
Without hesitating, Mariagarita sat up, opened her eyes and stared intensely at The Ghost of Christmas Past. “I drive a hard bargain, Mr Ghost,” she said, “but it’s a deal. What service do you want?”
The Ghost of Christmas Past threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “You haven’t read the script, have you?” he asked, accusingly.
“Well,” replied Mariagarita, “I did, but I’ve lost the plot.”
“That,” mused The Ghost of Christmas Past to himself, “is not surprising me.”
Handing her a new script, he left, saying as he went, “read it, biatch. We’ll continue this later…”
:?
excellent
=D>* wonders when later is *
@panda12 wrote:
It was Christmas Eve and Mariagarita, The Dominos Matrix was exhausted from the wild and lively shapes she had thrown that evening during her Strictly Cam Dancing session with Tin Dice. That, and her daily alcohol consumption had conspired against her and now she slept soundly in her four poster bed after having finally passed out. It seems she had shaken “her little tush on the catwalk” a little too hard. A loud, gargled snore disturbed the peace causing the snow and ice to slide from the roof.
The night was calm and snow fell gently and silently on the tiny village of JC to cover it with a wildly inappropriate, virginal white blanket.
From the local Church, the singing of carols could be heard as local members of the JC community sang their praise of the new born king.
None sang more loudly than Tin Dice – not because he cared about baby Jesus but because he thought he was the new born king. A cardboard crown from Burger King was perched lopsidedly on his head.
Whinny Mouse mimed the words in between taking gulps of the communion wine. She was annoyed. Her imaginary boyfriend was drunk and had fallen over three times on the way to the Church. Finally, in an attempt to sober him up, she had dunked him in the font but he had then vomited in it. Horrified at this unacceptable, drunken behaviour, Whinny had no alternative but to dump him. Now she would be alone and even sadder for Christmas. She took another gulp of the wine. “Men,” she spat venomously. How she hated them for hurting her so.
MerryManOfPots had already consumed the body of Christ after cutting it into large doorstep wedges and toasting it on the altar candles. Caviar from the Pound shop had complemented his meal.
Annette Curtain was busy knitting a new stained glass window for the West Transept. It was a biblical love scene between an unsung, and much aggrieved heroine and Julius L Augustus. Intermittently, Annette drank an orange liquid from the communion goblet. Tin Dice had teased her saying it was “meths” but she had violently shook a knitting needle at him and insisted it was only Fanta.
Coming from a long line of tricoteuses, Annette, spying Tin Dice’s headdress narrowed her eyes in hate and muttered to herself, “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
Father Alias of Assisi – Side looked around at his congregation. Tin Dice was now singing his theme tune, “Rob the Builder, Can I screw it? Rob the Builder, If I can!”
“It wasn’t so much a Midnight Mass as a Midnight Mess,” he sighed to himself and grabbed the communion wine off of Whinny Mouse.
Back at Mariagarita’s house, the weather was a changing. The wind had whipped up and a turbulent snow storm had began. The lattice window banged violently against the side of her twenty five room mansion (which she could easily afford as she is after all, loaded.) Mariagarita snored loudly oblivious to it all which greatly annoyed the Ghost of Christmas Past.
His dramatic entrance, on the chime of one, through the window and accompanied by a mysterious, glowing ball of light had been ruined! Angrily, he stomped over to the snoring beauty and shook her. Mouth gaping open, Mariagarita caught her breath and snored loudly again. The Ghost of Christmas Past stared at her with disgust. “Pig in blanket” he muttered to himself before extending a fist and punching a salivating MerryManOfPots straight back out the window.
The Ghost of Christmas Past placed his hands on his hips and pondered his next move. If he didn’t wake The Dominos Matrix up soon the whole story would be pointless. Placing his hands above his head and wiggling his fingers, he leaned over Mariagarita and tried a genuine, ghostly woo:
“Woooooooooooooo!”
Nothing.
Then he sang to her:
“Wake up little flooooooooo zeeeeee, wake up!”
Nothing.
There was only one thing left to do – he opened his wallet and dangled his Nectar card in front of her. Her nose began to twitch at the smell of money. With eyes closed and nose twitching, Mariagarita’s head slowly began to rise from the pillow. Then, abruptly, it shot back down.
“Make it a £100k limit Platinum Card, Mr Ghost, and I’m all yours,” she demanded.
“And if I don’t?” inquired The Ghost of Christmas Past.
“Then I’ll shoot you dead with my 12 bore” Mariagarita replied.
The Ghost of Christmas Past sighed and replied, “I’m a ghost. I’m already dead.”
Without hesitating, Mariagarita sat up, opened her eyes and stared intensely at The Ghost of Christmas Past. “I drive a hard bargain, Mr Ghost,” she said, “but it’s a deal. What service do you want?”
The Ghost of Christmas Past threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “You haven’t read the script, have you?” he asked, accusingly.
“Well,” replied Mariagarita, “I did, but I’ve lost the plot.”
“That,” mused The Ghost of Christmas Past to himself, “is not surprising me.”
Handing her a new script, he left, saying as he went, “read it, biatch. We’ll continue this later…”
Oh dear I’d jump off the bandwagon while you can love :roll:
superb pands wd
we are now raising the bar
i luv it :D
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