http://forsaken-bard.livejournal.com/ (
forsaken-bard.livejournal.com) wrote in
milliways_bar2005-08-16 04:18 pm
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This is not the last open entrance you are looking for. There will be another.
Asmodean is down in the bar reading poetry. Poe, why do you ask?
Asmodean is down in the bar reading poetry. Poe, why do you ask?
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For the last few minutes, she's been edging ever farther away from Mommy. Angela is tricksy, she is.
And then she spies someone she hasn't seen in ever so long, so she toddles over. "Hi, 'Athin." She smiles.
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"Hello, Lady Angela."
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"Of course, I will."
Clearing his throat slightly, he began to recite in a deep, smooth voice. The verses flowed.
"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more."
He paused and glanced at Angela.
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"Ooh," she says, and shivers.
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"Another poem, dear, or a bit of music?"
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She likes music quite a lot, and she's not very discriminatory yet.
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My funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable
Unphotographable
Yet you’re my favourite work of art
Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?
But don’t change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentine’s day
Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?
But don’t you change one hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentine’s day
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They are attached to two very familiar looking heads.
Zaphod waves. "Hey, man. Keepin' cool, yeah?"
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"I suppose so."
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It takes some effort, but Zaphod levers himself up into a semblance of an upright position and grins at Asmodean cheerfully.
"Good book?"
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"Yes, I am enjoying it."
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"So. Whatcha been up to, frood? Just reading?"
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"That and my music."
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He grins.
"So, recovered from our little vacation?"
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"Yes, I have. A few days rest is always necessary after such an expenditure."
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"Hello, Jasin."
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"Well, good evening, Lady Chris."
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"I haven't spoken to you in a while, how have you been?"
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"Quite well... I am feeling better after coming home from the war."
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"No, my wife was helping with a war on Antar."
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"Your wife?" Incredulous would be a good word to describe her expression.
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"Yes, my wife."
This is not the smug satisfaction you are looking for.
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