Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Twisted Linguistics

My mind is a wasteland today. I know, you're asking -- "So what else is new?" Perhaps I should qualify that statement -- it's a worse wasteland than usual. I've undertaken a massive editing project with one of my mss, which is probably going to end up requiring a complete rewrite. The question is, is it worth it? I'm gathering opinions about that as we speak. And yes, I'll go with the consensus.

I can't think of anything original to say today, but I am feeling quasi-inventive. I rounded up a butt-load of Words Gone Wild today and I'm going to let them speak for me. That's right. They're going to put their pointed little heads together and write you a story. Just be aware that these guys talk a little funny. Better get out your decoder rings; you're probably going to need them. Here's what we have to work with:

mask of my morla
Have you herd
my feeling is hurt!

Once upon a time, the Queen of Clostrophobia was given an envalope by her loyal but homely page, Fianl. He was, by the way, the only page who hadn't received sexy e-mails from Mark Foley. But we digress -- it happesn all the time, but that's a story for another time. Just be careful what you say in e-mail to thatone, easy on tha tone; he's a little gun-shy.

So anyway, the queen got the word in that envalope that there was an oppurtunity for prevlidged want-a-bes to make a little extra money with the film crew that had come to town.

Oh! Have you herd this already? Then your heard of goats probably has, too. My feeling is hurt! But I'm telling you anyway.

So, the queen yelled for her favotite driver.


"Yes, your Highness?" answered the driver -- who, if the truth be told, was just a little atched in the head.

"Put on your tight leather pants -- my favorite favotites -- and fetch delimma," the queen ordered, "and drive me to dis film studio."

The driver just stared at her.

"You have no resonse?" the queen demanded.

"I sonsed once," da driver said. "Do I got to redo it?"

"Grrrr," growled the queen. "I don't owe you any explination. Just start the limo."

The driver neither moved nor spoke, just stared straight ahead as he slowly drove the limo down the road.

"Can't you go any faster?" the queen whined. "I'm in a hurry here. They're paying union scale."

The driver neither answered nor speeded up, whereupon the Queen of Clostrophobia whipped out her Mask of My Morla, put it on, and hollered "Boo!" at the driver.

The driver wrecked, of course. He cracked his head and the Queen broke her leg and didn't get her close-up. She wasn't angry, though. After all, stuff like that happesn all the time in the land of Clostrophobia. She called for Fianl to come and get her but he'd finally gotten his long-awaited "type dirty to me" IM and wasn't coming away from his computer. (And you can take that any which way you want; no further explination forthcoming, but he was a happe pesn.)

The moral? There isn't one. Unless it might be, "Be careful who you choose for your favotite, especially if you're going to wear the Mask of My Morla."


kanrei said...

ROFL is all I can say on that one. I thought you said you had nothing to say. That was funny as hell. Thank you.

Serena Joy said...

I didn't say a word. Those zany word twisters did all the talking. Glad you got a kick out of it, though. I thank you and they thank you. :)

Roxan said...

I'm so glad I found the "Mask of my Morla" and glad you made such good use of it! ROTF

Serena Joy said...

Thank goodness for your eagle eye, Roxan. I'm still trying to figure out who Morla is and who stole her mask.:)