Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Garish Gentleman Gallop Gallantly, Giddily

Rest reassured - she shouldn't suffer more. No, not, never - in truth, the scream slipped by my senses sneakily. It didn't dwell indeed, no; it wasn't an actual, authentic aural attack! It was a remnant of my remembered reality, an imagined echo with explosive accuracy. Which reminds the don - there are some things I've disremembered, but something speaks swiftly to me that there are things I've thought to leave behind, big bad winking whispers and warnings of my lost thoughts! So the don does design a disposition with which to win my way through the trials and tribulations ahead. He shall still save suffering allies, but only on the avenue of mine own adventure - to recover my non-remembered recollections!

And so it is with heavy heart and huge hope that the don discards his instrument of inhibitions and voyages on the vessel of verisimilitude! The don does deem it dead on to disembark primarily in the primary place of records.

If only he understood quite where that was...

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Explosive Energies Excite Enervated Enemies

The don departs. It is time to travel on the trail of no tears, the road of no regret, the route of no return. Ah, but the don doesn't disremember that the thoughtful trooper should smile and saunter boldly, braving Death as though he were an old acquaintance. So should he purposelessly parade on the path of pessimistic poignancy? No! He carves his own causeway, weaving words like a warm winter's wind.

I avail myself of the Star's humble, hospitable home. I need no longer to live by lingering, and imposing on her indulgence to aid. I am a roaming rival of that repulsive reprobate, Death, that despicable, dirty, deplorable desperado. I am the ingenious gentleman, Sir Thighpiece, of the Mancha!

Where I am needed, I will near; where I am wanted, I will wander. All who require remedies or have an urgency and are in need of aid, you need no more than to ask, and the don and Rocinante will rush rapidly to your relief, asking no reward but a gracious grin and a gleeful guffaw.

I promise I won't pass by any person, nor leave without laboring to lift their load. But now, I will walk on the wind and swim in the sea, ready to race or rescue.

I will discover again my Dulcinea.

I've caught a cry in the city. I go. I shall regale you all with stories of the scene soon.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Do Deadly Devils Despise Darkness?

Don't despair - the once-distressed damsel is now dandy and recovering rapidly. However...I suppose I should tell the tale. It is not a long one or a dramatic one, but it is true to the trials I trudged through yesterday.

Upon arrival in the city I made sure I had a home in which to lodge once I had rescued the Star. After a quick period of rest and recuperation, I strode stoutly into the trees. It did not take long to become lost. Of course I had to become lost; how can you search if your target is not lost? And how can you imagine how lost the target is if you yourself are not lost? No matter; as I was saying...

After a time, Rocinante picked up a trail. We rushed like we had never rushed before, and came to a dark clearing. The despicable devil, Cheshire, stood, staring, still. He was so deep in his work that he did not hear the whistling of my bolt as it dashed towards him, nor the clinking of my lance as it came down on his thorny crown. (Speaking of which, his hat had hopped off his head sometime during the battle. The Star is keeping it locked up.) He turned, and no longer was there a smile on his wicked cara. But before he could retaliate, Rocinante roared and ran at him. Her gnashing jaws and whirling claws scared him off, methinks. He disappeared, slowly, as if evaporating. The last thing to go was his smile, his evil grin.

Kathleen Schr√∂dinger, the Star, the most marvelous of well-wishers, was there. Curled up into a ball on the ground, whimpering, crying dry tears.

She is injured, my allies. She has lost the smallest digit on her left hand, and her cara is bloody and beaten. Her left ankle, as well, is twisted and hurt. But no worries! She is, as I have said, recovering rapidly. No doubt she will be singing again soon.

I will stay with her a time, but I am a roamer. I must return to my roving sooner or later.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Cute, Curious Cats Can't Cease

The Star seems sad and strained, so the daring and dashing don doesn't deem it smart to stay still! No; he removes his reservations, loosens his noose, and rushes to her rescue, riding Rocinante as rapidly as a rabid rabbit.

The don divines that he will dismount in but two days. Until then, thine thoughts should travel truly to the lovely lady, the damsel in distress.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Bereaving Bloody Battles Bodes Badly

When all is well on the western way, the daring don will deem it not so deadly to depart the eastern shores...but will he depart indeed? The slippery slopes of shining seas simmer and slink away at the thought of departure. Therefore I designate this doorway to death condemned, and none shall pass through without the express permission of yours truly. So, dearly departed, I wish you well in your wayfaring throughout the windy and willful walk of the next world.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Animals, Assemble Around Any Area

And any intelligent man accepts an announcement of the sort. I ride Rocinante rapidly to the appointed spot. And I, the dubious don of delegated destructive dynamism, disclose doubly devilish dirges to the animals at the appointed area of assembly.

The meeting is to make a method of attack with which we will win over the Giants. And before you ask - the don has checked. They are most certainly not windmills.