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hawaiiansky · 09-24-2011, 02:25 AM

The Pale Prince’s Day: Mid- Lafternoone

New Ork, New Ork
Munchday, Melee 10, 2602

Taking a break from his dictatorial endeavors, the Pale Prince of the Irrational Pastime, MLB Comm. Landlost flipped idly through the pages of The New York Deadly Ghost to see what was playing on Broodway this coming weekend. There were the popular minstrel shows like Rats, The Lying King, The Book of Mermen, and Scare. What drivel!

Yet, it seemed one could never escape the allure of bloodball no matter how hard one tried. He spotted and scanned an article about the Whooperstown elders arguing about a proposed statue to be built on the moldy green of their quaint upstate New Ork village.

A rather heated argument had erupted in the mayor’s office there as to whether Bruthe, the God of Clout, should be sculpted in marble as a bloodballer swinging his mighty bloodball club on earthe, or as one of the gods of Ballhalla lounging in his pristine white robe surrounded by little cherubs who looked in rapture upon one of their greatest bloodball idols.

Landlost guffawed aloud. Instead he thought that Bruthe should be depicted holding to his open mouth an oversized loaf of bread filled with the carcass of a roasted hound dog, and in the other hand a bosomy blond. From what he knew from holy bloodball scriptures -as admitted by Luvartus, Marcove and other clerics - hot dogs and hot babes were Bruthe’s twin passions, ones he devoured in great numbers; the unholy sport of bloodball was of secondary concern. Landlost scribbled an anonymous and scathing editorial to the Deadly Ghost suggesting just that. That ought to muddle the elders’ high flung morals and frazzle the featherheads, he grunted.

09-24-2011, 02:25 AM	#257
hawaiiansky Major Leagues Join Date: Mar 2005 Posts: 474	The Pale Prince’s Day: Mid- Lafternoone The Pale Prince’s Day: Mid- Lafternoone New Ork, New Ork Munchday, Melee 10, 2602 Taking a break from his dictatorial endeavors, the Pale Prince of the Irrational Pastime, MLB Comm. Landlost flipped idly through the pages of The New York Deadly Ghost to see what was playing on Broodway this coming weekend. There were the popular minstrel shows like Rats, The Lying King, The Book of Mermen, and Scare. What drivel! Yet, it seemed one could never escape the allure of bloodball no matter how hard one tried. He spotted and scanned an article about the Whooperstown elders arguing about a proposed statue to be built on the moldy green of their quaint upstate New Ork village. A rather heated argument had erupted in the mayor’s office there as to whether Bruthe, the God of Clout, should be sculpted in marble as a bloodballer swinging his mighty bloodball club on earthe, or as one of the gods of Ballhalla lounging in his pristine white robe surrounded by little cherubs who looked in rapture upon one of their greatest bloodball idols. Landlost guffawed aloud. Instead he thought that Bruthe should be depicted holding to his open mouth an oversized loaf of bread filled with the carcass of a roasted hound dog, and in the other hand a bosomy blond. From what he knew from holy bloodball scriptures -as admitted by Luvartus, Marcove and other clerics - hot dogs and hot babes were Bruthe’s twin passions, ones he devoured in great numbers; the unholy sport of bloodball was of secondary concern. Landlost scribbled an anonymous and scathing editorial to the Deadly Ghost suggesting just that. That ought to muddle the elders’ high flung morals and frazzle the featherheads, he grunted. Last edited by hawaiiansky; 09-24-2011 at 02:35 AM.