| The Many Adventures of Bob, Crust, and The Anarchist (aka Jessica, Christin, and Megsie) |
| My Anarchist: You understand the craziness of ghetto music as no one else ever could. There is only one word: MACE! Never rehearse alone! Christmas w/the Divine W and the Ds! Beware the PV hoes, the choral cults, and never drink the water, under any circumstances! Always remember: Mel loves Kahlil, I am having an affair w/MD, You are banging last year's SC Conductor. When you rule, all parts of Fields of Grey will be required reading and I shall be Poet Laureate! (LOL!) I demand that Mel beats FOG Himself using only a pencil, a plaid shirt, and a copy of Catcher in the Rye! Nightie-nightmare, girl! |
| Mulligan Chic: A Divine W Christmas...picture it! The tree is trimmed and a nuclear family is gathered 'round the fire of a nice brick home in the Ville! LuckiCheshire777: Snow falling crisply...All are in knitted sweaters. Mulligan Chic: *The sound of Christmas carols echoes from a baby grand indoors. M/M W and Russell come into view. Mr. W is at the piano. Russell's gf is there also, all decked out in her white angora sweater.* She is a little worried that Russell may try to smoke it later, confusing the dead rabbit fur with hemp. LuckiCheshire777: Haahaa!! He is wearing sandals in the snow. Mulligan Chic: She is an alto, singing quietly to "Hallelujah Amen!" while being glared at by her potential future mother-in-law as the piece is described as "a hymn for all seasons." Suddenly, she sings a wrong note! LuckiCheshire777: OMG!! Mulligan Chic: Mrs. W points her finger accusingly, "Russell, darling, what have I told you about bringing off-key bitches home? I cannot stand the noise." LuckiCheshire777: All hell breaks loose and pens go flying Mulligan Chic: *Russell looks repentant for a moment before returning to his pink mushroom, Age of Aquarius, hash-induced Wonderland.* However, Divine W is unstoppable. LuckiCheshire777: Oh no! What next!? Mulligan Chic: Heather (names have been adjusted to protect the innocent) looks a little panicked. All the while, Mr. W continues to play and sing in a deep, rich baritone...occasionally Russ picks up the tenor line LuckiCheshire777: in between puffs Mulligan Chic: naturally LuckiCheshire777: Can't sing with all that smoke in your mouth now can you? Mulligan Chic: JW rushes for a glass of red wine and dumps it all over the dead bunny sweater while screeching in her B flat soprano voice, "That'll teach you, you flat whore!" *The words, "With cherubim and seraphim harmonious join..." are heard in the background, pitch perfect* LuckiCheshire777: to cover the muffled cries of the innocent Mulligan Chic: *Heather, an All-South Jersey, All-state, All-Eastern, and All-American Chorus alto, flees in tears.* Russell looks up from his bong a half an hour later, "Dude, what happened to her?" LuckiCheshire777: "Where did she goooo?" Mulligan Chic: Mrs. W is enraged by the memory, "Russell, what have I told you about bringing home altos? You are just like your asshole father. *Pause as if in a dreamy flashback* "That's why I never married the fat bastard." *Both the rail thin Mr. W and Russell appear confused.* Russell: "Huh?" JW (pauses for effect): "Yes, it's true. Your father is not your father. Haven't you always wondered why you were a tenor? I met your father thirty years ago at the original Salem Co. We were the same, he and I, melodies. However, relationships where you both lead never work out. We separated because there must be a harmony. I met your father. We married. Yet one day, we met again at an in-service and succumbed to our passions and made beautiful melodic music together....then nine months later you were born." LuckiCheshire777: omg ewwww Mulligan Chic: *For the first time all night, Mr. W hits a wrong note and it holds, reverberating in the air.* Mrs. W confesses, "Your father is...MD!" Russell (oblivious as the song crescendos): "Hallelujah Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaamen!" *End Scene* LuckiCheshire777: LOL! |
| A Divine W Christmas* *any resemblance to actual individuals is purely coincidental and for entertainment value on part of the authors! |
| The Legend of Fields of Grey, Himself Once upon a time, there was a poor princess who was stranded in Ghetto Grove. One day, while walking on the roadside, she met a Hippie. Disoriented from the heat and made vulnerable by loneliness, she thought the slacker was a Prince. Her friends warned her that he was a loser: The Oscar-obsessed actress (Mel) announced, "How can you be attracted to someone who obviously does not own a hairbrush? Woodstock is over! Love isn't free anymore." The delusional, but happy homemaker (Jess) cautioned, "Well, he is an idiot who needs a smack! The damn boy rips of Sting! WTF is wrong with him? He is so stupid: guitar this, "Fields of Shit" that. Grr! How dense can this numb nutted freak be not to see that you are only trying to make a connection with him. Why!? I dunno!" The sarcastic anarchist (Megsie) consulted Mr. Tsu, the Chinese mafia fish, and muttered, "We can beat the crap out of him and sell tickets to raise money, so I can finally rule the world. Muahahahaha!" The princess did not realize the truth until it was too late.... |
| Bob: Remember all of our crazy tennis matches with the PV hoes. "Oh my God, I am really rolling!" "Can we have a mature tennis match, please?" Smile and nod, that's the key to QUALITY GOSSIP! Keep your eyes open for Fields of Grey #34621: "You're So Vain" and the rest of the series. They already have the bongo drums, the flute bong, and the guitar with a van they could be the Partridges! Stay crazy and cool, of course. |