Originally Posted by ONEWHITEDUCK

Recipients: sachem

Today, 02:21 AM
ONEWHITEDUCK
ONEWHITEDUCK Join Date: Sep 2007
Location: Puget Sound
Posts: 8,014

SHUT UP WOMAN :-(

MY WIFE IS AT STAKE

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http://www.arguewitheveryone.com/one...out-songs.html
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If you don't KNOW where you come from...you WILL wind up going nowhere.

That goes for Ideas, institutions as well as individuals :-I

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Originally Posted by THE WATCHER

eheheheheheheh

YA KNOW.....EVEN ALBERT EINSTIENS TEACHERS THOUGHT HE WAS A LOUSY STUDENT :-O

ehehehehehehehe.......I GUESS SOMETIMES EVEN TEACHERS AREN'T SO FUCKIN SMART ARE THEY ;-)

in that light..........maybe it's not too far a stretch to believe both DOM1 and CATSHIT really are teachers :-(

NOW THAT'S A SCARY FUCKIN THOUGHT :-I

Originally Posted by ONEWHITEDUCK

.......Lesbians are ok.......

anyway.........eheheheheheheheheheh.....before I get banned from hippymom again.......lets get what I've already written ;-)

^I^

..RISKING BRAIN DAMAGE....we JUMP even Further ahead in the story but seem to only catsup :-)


PURRFULL PORDGE SECTION 2


Chapter 11
Strange goings on


Purrfull Pordge and his brother George were doing a stealth reconnaissance on Butch the bulldog's house, before deciding on a plan of attack. Pordge had climbed a large tree to get a birds-eye view of the target, while on the ground George circled the perimeter checking the wind. They had done this hundreds of times and Butch was constantly changing his own tactics, which always made it more fun. But poor Butch could never seem to get the advantage because he didn’t have the same ability that George and Pordge had inherited from their mother. They could read each others minds, even from a very long distance. Better than walkie-talkies, more like cell phones they would constantly carry on conversations with each other no matter where they were. And they could also read Butches’ mind.
“I can’t see him yet, but I can sure smell him” George thought to Pordge.

"OH GEORGIE.........LOOK, ON BUTCHES HOUSE....:-)

(-: IT'S THE POOKA.......THIS IS A GOOD SIGN :-)

The Pooka, an old freind of Momma kitty, was a very large invisable white rabbit that occasionally came to watch Goerge and Pordge play.....they always had more fun if the Pooka was around

"OH GOODY" George thinks, WHERE's BUTCHY BOY ???

“BUTCH is hunkered down in the shallow depression just this side of the large Madrona tree, between his dog-house and the front porch” Pordge responded.

Butch was crouched and lying flatter than a snake in his shallow foxhole. He had heard the soft rustling in bushes and earlier he’d heard the sound of claws on a tree. He was on full alert. It was either those pesky cats or those thieving raccoons Butch thought to himself. He slunk even deeper, if that was possible, while chuckling to his self, because Butch had a new weapon in his own arsenal. Butches’ owners had tired of having to un-hang Butch from his dog-house and had purchased him a longer chain. Before, they had Butch on a fifteen-foot chain staked to the center of the yard. That gave Butch a thirty-foot circle and access to his dog-house leaving just enough space for people to get around him and into the house. It also gave him just enough room to get on top of his dog-house but was too short to allow him to get off on the far side. Butches’ owners were beginning to think that since the first time butch had hung himself he must have suffered brain damage from lack of blood-flow to his brain, because they couldn’t understand why he kept doing it.
Now his owners had put Butch on a twenty-foot chain and had moved the location of the center spike to leave the same amount of access to the house and to also give Butch enough room to get up on his dog-house and down the other side without hanging himself. “ This time “ Butch cackled maniacally, to himself.

“Did you catch that” George 'thought' to Pordge? Hmm, Thought Pordge, this was going to take some calculated trigonometry to figure out which trees they were going to have to get butch wrapped around and still hang him from his house. He studied the problem for several long seconds before thinking “Got it” to George. Pordge didn’t make a quite decent from the tree. He did quite the opposite actually, and scraped his claws as loudly as he could as he made his way to the ground. This was a way to 'PSYC' Butch out, sort of like running finger nails down a blackboard to annoy and announcing a beginning to the nights events at the same time. Butch would be vibrating with anticipation when the attack finally came.
(-: :-)

Pordge met up with George at a small patch of moonlit forest floor and began digging and scraping leaves and just making all kinds of rustling racket as he cleared a space to lay out his plan in the dirt. George watched on as Pordge, rather artfully drew a representation of the layout of Butches’ new perimeter “The way I see it, we’ve got two ways we can get the desired results” Pordge said to George. The quickest way may be the most dangerous and the second way will take a little maneuvering but should be more of a sure thing. “This is where Butch is laying now and this is how his chain is lying on the ground. George studied the drawing raptly as Pordge laid out the plans, and they decided to go with the riskier first plan figuring that it would give them plenty of time to get to Kitty Clarieces’ pet door and get into the house and thus the kibble.
Butches’ eyes scanned back and forth across yard, looking , waiting, ready to spring into action like a spring steel trap set with a hair trigger he thought to himself, as he was crawling with anticipation under his still fur. Whats that, his eyes locked onto the top of his dog house where moments before there had been nothing, was now occupied by Mr. Pordge who was calmly washing himself, pretending to be obliviously unconcerned with Butches’ whereabouts.
Butch wriggled his but and scrunched even flatter in preperation. I knew it, those pesky cats again. “Wait, wait”, he told himself. He knew he would never get to his house in time to catch that cat from the direction he was facing. Should he try to move to get a better angle? No, wait he told himself.
George nonchalantly dropped to the ground and took a few steps towards where Butch was laying, then sat and began licking his paws, teasing.
Butch was now literally vibrating inside his skin thinking yes, yes this time I’m going to get you, you pesky cat.
Butch was laying perpendicular to where George was standing and would have to lunge abruptly to his right as he came out of his hole. Pordge had calculated exactly where He would have to stand to get Butch to lunge so that his chain would ride up under a tree root that was growing up out of the ground at the edge of the hole where Butch was lying. This should shorten the chain just enough to again hang butch off the backside of his dog-house. But the root may not be strong enough to hold Butches weight for long or maybe not at all.
“It may only snag him for a second if that Pordge had said to George, so timing will be critical. You’ll have to pounce just as I’m stepping on his trigger point, he told George.
George was up the tree without a sound, directly above butch as soon as Pordge had caught butches’ attention, and was in a pounce stance, much the way butch was, himself. Watching both his brother, and the tell-tail twitch in Butches tail as Pordge again stepped closer to where the dog lay in wait.
The plan was that Pordge would turn and run for Butches house as soon as Butch began his spring. George was to pounce and land directly on Butches lower back, spoiling his lunge, then they would both head for and over the dog-house, hoping the tree root would hold just long enough to avoid the clamping chomp of Butches’ powerful jaws. If they could successfully hang Butch he would be stifled and unable to raise a ruckus by barking and they could leisurely waltz into the house as calmly as you please. If the root didn’t hold they could still get in by staying clear of butch on the people path, but the ensuing rampage of barking that would erupt, would surely awaken Butches owners. And Kitty Clariece would not be impressed by the ensuing pandemonium. Quiet was always better.


(This section was too long)
Crap I'll have to be nice to the witches for a while :-O

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Investigator/Instigator of Paranormal and Miraculous Phenomena, and Wild Irish Indian 2

THERES NO TEARS IN HEAVEN

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^I^ WIN/WIN=GOD...Win/Lose=ANTI-GOD

Originally Posted by ONEWHITEDUCK

~!~

Just a little Patience.....Patience is a skill.

MR. SHORTY
Recorded by Marty Robbins
Words and music by Marty Robbins

Nobody knew where he came from
They only knew he came in
Slowly he walked to the end of the bar
And he ordered up one slug of gin.

Well, I could see that he wasn't a large man
I could tell that he wasn't too tall
I judged him to be 'bout five-foot three
And his voice was a soft Texas drawl.

Said he was needin' some wages
'Fore he could ride for the west
Said he could do most all kind of work
Said he could ride with the best.

There in his blue eyes was sadness
That comes from the need of a friend
And tho' he tried, he still couldn't hide
The loneliness there, deep within.

Said he would work thru the winter
For thirty a month and his board
I started to say where he might land a job
When a fellow came in thru the door.

And I could tell he was lookin' for trouble
>From the way that he came stompin' in
He told me to leave Shorty there by himself
Come down and wait on a man.

The eyes of the little man narrowed
The smile disappeared from his face
Gone was the friendliness that I had seen
And a wild look of hate took its' place.

But the big one continued to mock him
And he told me that I'd better go
Find him a couple of glasses of milk
Then maybe Shorty would grow.

When the little man spoke, there was stillness
He made sure that everyone heard
Slowly he stepped away from the bar
And I still remember these words.

Oh! it's plain that you're lookin' for trouble
Trouble's what I try to shun
If that's what you want, then that's what you'll get
'Cause cowboy, we're both packin' guns.

His hand was already positioned
Feet wide apart on the floor
I hadn't noticed but there on his hip
Was a short-barreled Bass Forty-Four.

It was plain he was ready and waitin'
He leaned a bit forward and said
When you call me Shorty, say Mister, my friend
Maybe you'd rather be dead.

In the room was a terrible silence
As the big one stepped out on the floor
All drinkin' stopped and the tick of the clock
Said death would wait ten seconds more.

He cussed once or twice in a whisper
And he said with a snarl on his lips
Nobody's Mister to me, little man!
And he grabbed for the gun on his hips.

But the little man's hands was like lightning
The Bass Forty-Four was the same
The Forty-Four spoke and it sent lead and smoke
And seventeen inches of flame.

For the big one had never cleared leather
Beaten before he could start
A little round hole had appeared on his shirt
The bullet went clear thru his heart.

The little man stood there a moment
Then holstered the Bass Forty-Four
It's always this way so I never stay
Slowly he walked out the door.

Nobody knew where he came from
They won't forget he came by
They won't forget how a Forty-Four gun
One night made the difference in size.

As for me, I'll remember the sadness
Shown in the eyes of the man
If we meet someday, you can bet I would say
That it's me, Mr. Shorty, your friend.

I KNOW when my story is not wanted.....its too funny.......AWE wants me back :-O

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