FOB June 1
For those who continue to read, despite this site’s increasing indulgence in Tolkien-Boy-centered philoscriptus, I provide for you (as yet, free of charge, but times may change) the minutes of our last FOB meeting.
Tolkien Boy redeemed somewhat his extreme lateness and equally extreme absence from FOB the past two weeks by arriving first at editorgirl’s house for FOB. As no one else was present, he spent his time reading the most affecting parts of his newly-checked-out book on editorgirl’s swing and nursing his raging headache. Edgy Killer Bunny arrived next, joining Tolkien Boy on the swing, and they discussed finances, which made Tolkien Boy’s headache worse. Master Fob arrived next, making it a porch swing trio, and the three harmonized on the greater hits of Gershwin until the arrival of the Marchioness, who brought both cucumbers and an actual conversation. Finally, editorgirl arrived, fashionably late and very much in fashion, and let the FOBs into her house.
There was discussion on the regrettable absence of Melyngoch and whether her warning email had mentioned she was roasting both humans and flesh or simply roasting human flesh. Much joking on Melyngoch’s cannibalistic tendencies ensued, but in deference to Mishkin no one called her a maneater. Many oreos were consumed, the cucumbers having been devoured earlier.
Tolkien Boy began the festivities by reading from his sequel novel, in which a lecherous Lenny touches various inoffensive portions of the female anatomy and ruminates upon the experience. Comments mercifully stopped just short of mentioning Tolkien Boy’s lack of experience in said subject matter. The Marchioness then finished up her short story in which people who like Karen Carpenter express concern for people who poop blood (demographics which, we can reasonably assume, do not often interact). editorgirl (sic) then presented us a snippet of poetry in which a Month (sic) was used as a verb. Much thought was given about the benefits of verbing months, and in reaction Edgy novembered, Master Fob juned, and the Marchioness exploded in a flurry of februaring. Finally, Master Fob served up his concoction of ingenuity and parody, which brought a tear to Tolkien Boy’s eye (surreptitiously wiped away).
Throughout the action, Master Fob dominated the stuffed chair and looked patriarchal, editorgirl puttered away on her cell phone, the Marchioness lolled on the beanbag, Edgy leaned wittily against the couch, and Tolkien Boy lay on the couch, making dire predictions about the possibility of his own survival.
And Melyngoch ate people. Which is why no man will ever love us.
Tolkien Boy redeemed somewhat his extreme lateness and equally extreme absence from FOB the past two weeks by arriving first at editorgirl’s house for FOB. As no one else was present, he spent his time reading the most affecting parts of his newly-checked-out book on editorgirl’s swing and nursing his raging headache. Edgy Killer Bunny arrived next, joining Tolkien Boy on the swing, and they discussed finances, which made Tolkien Boy’s headache worse. Master Fob arrived next, making it a porch swing trio, and the three harmonized on the greater hits of Gershwin until the arrival of the Marchioness, who brought both cucumbers and an actual conversation. Finally, editorgirl arrived, fashionably late and very much in fashion, and let the FOBs into her house.
There was discussion on the regrettable absence of Melyngoch and whether her warning email had mentioned she was roasting both humans and flesh or simply roasting human flesh. Much joking on Melyngoch’s cannibalistic tendencies ensued, but in deference to Mishkin no one called her a maneater. Many oreos were consumed, the cucumbers having been devoured earlier.
Tolkien Boy began the festivities by reading from his sequel novel, in which a lecherous Lenny touches various inoffensive portions of the female anatomy and ruminates upon the experience. Comments mercifully stopped just short of mentioning Tolkien Boy’s lack of experience in said subject matter. The Marchioness then finished up her short story in which people who like Karen Carpenter express concern for people who poop blood (demographics which, we can reasonably assume, do not often interact). editorgirl (sic) then presented us a snippet of poetry in which a Month (sic) was used as a verb. Much thought was given about the benefits of verbing months, and in reaction Edgy novembered, Master Fob juned, and the Marchioness exploded in a flurry of februaring. Finally, Master Fob served up his concoction of ingenuity and parody, which brought a tear to Tolkien Boy’s eye (surreptitiously wiped away).
Throughout the action, Master Fob dominated the stuffed chair and looked patriarchal, editorgirl puttered away on her cell phone, the Marchioness lolled on the beanbag, Edgy leaned wittily against the couch, and Tolkien Boy lay on the couch, making dire predictions about the possibility of his own survival.
And Melyngoch ate people. Which is why no man will ever love us.
posted by Tolkien Boy at 6/03/2006 09:33:00 PM
3 Comments:
I juned your mom last night.
.
I have the book of eg's swing on hold and I'll get to read it if you ever turn it in!!!!!
I wouldn't have taken you for the sort to read this kind of book, th. I register faint surprise.
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