What? - she has a Chicago Piano? - otherwise known as the .45 calibre Thompson sub-machine gun? Yeah that would also make her dangerous...nah, it's when she starts on that piano you need to run!
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Wraggles To The Rescue!
- Thread starter Wragg
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LittleSiss
Sorceress
Messa .... I know you and you are a master/ mistress of slight wording and practice.You'll drink what you'll want provided that you drink !
If it could be right !
Fool the fools but we know the truth.
A word is a powerful thing.
The tongue is a bullet to the heart!
Oh, the code words are flying hereMessa .... I know you and you are a master/ mistress of slight wording and practice.
Fool the fools but we know the truth.
A word is a powerful thing.
The tongue is a bullet to the heart!
That was a 'Chicago typewriter' (An amazingly gentle gun to shoot if you ever get the chance for having such short-range knock-down power).What? - she has a Chicago Piano? - otherwise known as the .45 calibre Thompson sub-machine gun? Yeah that would also make her dangerous...
View attachment 437831
May I bring my toy? I know it is not period correct but a P-51 could out-dive it....
If you want a rescue call the professionals...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Even I, I've not the decoder !Oh, the code words are flying here
Siss is sometimes so much obscure ...
I even wonder if she is understanding herself ...
...and I thought it was just me. Siss, are you near the Rail Park???Even I, I've not the decoder !
Siss is sometimes so much obscure ...
I even wonder if she is understanding herself ...
Is that a Warthog? (I mean the plane, not the Cavalryman...)
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
How could Repertor know? He heard "Gentille Alouette" and "Dies Irae" but nobody sang this:
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Cheery little number, thanks Eul, just the ticket on a grey November morn...Not just in France, but anywhere the Catholic Requiem Mass is performed -
the scariest hymn ever written!
Day of wrath and doom impending,
David’s word with Sibyl’s blending,
Heaven and earth in ashes ending.
O what fear man’s bosom rendeth,
When from heaven the Judge descendeth,
On whose sentence all dependeth.
Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth,
Through earth’s sepulchers it ringeth,
All before the throne it bringeth.
Death is struck, and nature quaking,
All creation is awaking,
To its Judge an answer making.
Lo, the book exactly worded,
Wherein all hath been recorded,
Thence shall judgment be awarded.
When the Judge His seat attaineth,
And each hidden deed arraigneth
Nothing unavenged remaineth.
What shall I, frail man, be pleading?
Who for me be interceding
When the just are mercy needing?
King of majesty tremendous,
Who dost free salvation send us,
Fount of pity, then befriend us.
Think, kind Jesus, my salvation
Caused Thy wondrous Incarnation,
Leave me not to reprobation.
Faint and weary Thou hast sought me,
On the Cross of suffering bought me,
Shall such grace be vainly brought me?
Righteous Judge, for sin’s pollution
Grant Thy gift of absolution,
Ere that day of retribution.
Guilty now I pour my moaning,
All my shame with anguish owning,
Spare, O God, Thy suppliant groaning.
Through the sinful woman shriven,
Through the dying thief forgiven,
Thou to me a hope hast given.
Worthless are my prayers and sighing,
Yet, good Lord, in grace complying,
Rescue me from fires undying.
With Thy sheep a place provide me,
From the goats afar divide me,
To Thy right hand do Thou guide me.
When the wicked are confounded,
Doomed to flames of woe unbounded,
Call me with Thy Saints surrounded.
Low I kneel with heart’s submission,
See, like ashes, my contrition,
Help me in my last condition.
Ah! That day of tears and mourning,
From the dust of earth returning,
Man for judgment must prepare him,
Spare, O God, in mercy spare him.
Fear not, dear boy, gainful employment shall be yours this very evening
This is Barb we're talking about???
Couldn't do much worse than Wraggles & Co
A word is a powerful thing.
Well, 'tumescence' has sure had a run for its money
The musical quality of this thread is beyond my wildest dreams
This is Barb we're talking about???
Back on my demerit list already ... tsk tsk tsk ...
Well, 'tumescence' has sure had a run for its money
The first rule here at cf, which Wragg never heeds, is DO NOT MAKE FUN OF BARB
LittleSiss
Sorceress
There goes the coy image ...
... right out the window!
... right out the window!
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“You know, Lieutenant Schiller, I was determined to be as helpful as I could, but I’m afraid I have never heard of Barb…OOOOF!”
Schiller’s fist drove deep into his solar plexus, and, as Wraggles doubled over in pain, the German’s knee smashed into his face.
“STAND UP!!! HANDS IN THE AIR!!!” Schiller had abandoned his fake reasonableness. Wraggles struggled to his feet, and stood, blood pouring from his nose, and glared at Schiller. Then he smiled seraphically at him as his own knee connected fairly and squarely with Schiller’s nuts.
Ginger Windar, standing next to Wraggles, needed no second bidding. As Schiller howled in rage and agony, the finest uppercut ever seen lifted a nearby SS private clean off his feet, landing heavily on top of one of his colleagues.
All hell broke loose. The Germans could not fire for the risk of hitting a comrade, so piled into the fight. Madiosi, never a man to be trifled with, sent a German flying backwards into Messaline’s cross, causing her to call down the wrath of God upon the whole lot of them. Algy Slave was in a fine rough and tumble with an enemy corporal, Loxuru and RR were making a fine job of seeing off five Germans between them. Repertor, having just felled his own opponent, hurried to their aid.
Spare a thought for poor Jollyrei. Madiosi’s victim had slid down between Messaline’s legs and was now contentedly sitting in Jollyrei’s lap singing ‘Lilli Marlene’. Jollyrei, still blindfolded, sat there saying, “I say, this is a bit thick, what? Have a care and let a chap go so he can join in the fun!”
Wraggles and Schiller were too fully occupied with each other to take the least bit of notice of Jollyrei. Wraggles fancied himself a bit of a boxer, and pressing home the advantage of surprise, was landing a very satisfactory series of punches upon the other, who was manfully attempting to fend them off, but with limited success. Come what may, he’d certainly have a fine black eye to show for this night’s work.
But, fun though it was, it couldn’t last. There were just too many of them. Suddenly Wraggles found himself seized from behind by two burly but bloodied SS men, and, as he surveyed his comrades either snoozing on the ground or similarly restrained, he realised with sadness that the game was up.
“I’ll say this for you and your men, you have courage, even if it is to the point of foolishness, muttered Schiller, wiping blood from his mouth. “Now that you’ve had your moment of fun, you will answer my question.”
“As I say, I would if I could, but I am not able.”
“I’ll tell you what I am going to do, Squadron Leader. One at a time, I am going to nail your men to crosses, saving you till last. The flier – what was his name?”
“Jollyrei, Sir!” An SS-private was quick to answer.
“Crucify him first. Let’s see if that loosens the Squadron Leader’s tongue.”
As they roughly sliced through the cords binding him, and hauled him to his feet, Jollyrei called out, “Don’t say anything on my account, old chap. I can take it. Rather looking forward to being up there with Messa, to tell you the truth! I say, do be careful! That’s my best flying jacket!”
“I don’t think the Geneva Convention condones crucifixion, Schiller!” protested Wraggles.
“It doesn’t condone masquerading as an enemy soldier, either; and I am ‘Lieutenant Schiller’ to you!”
“You’ll pay for this, ‘Schiller’!” RR, one of the conscious survivors, was furious.
But he, Wraggles, Jollyrei, and the others could only watch helplessly as the SS soldiers brought timber from one of the trucks, and assembled it into a cross. Poor Jollyrei was stripped naked in front of the watching Messaline, which at least made the crucified girl smile. They stretched him out onto the cross. A nail was positioned against his wrist.
Wraggles shut his eyes as the hammer was raised into the air.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Schiller. I believe you are looking for me. My name is Barbara Worralson. Do please let dear Jollyrei go.”
Schiller’s fist drove deep into his solar plexus, and, as Wraggles doubled over in pain, the German’s knee smashed into his face.
“STAND UP!!! HANDS IN THE AIR!!!” Schiller had abandoned his fake reasonableness. Wraggles struggled to his feet, and stood, blood pouring from his nose, and glared at Schiller. Then he smiled seraphically at him as his own knee connected fairly and squarely with Schiller’s nuts.
Ginger Windar, standing next to Wraggles, needed no second bidding. As Schiller howled in rage and agony, the finest uppercut ever seen lifted a nearby SS private clean off his feet, landing heavily on top of one of his colleagues.
All hell broke loose. The Germans could not fire for the risk of hitting a comrade, so piled into the fight. Madiosi, never a man to be trifled with, sent a German flying backwards into Messaline’s cross, causing her to call down the wrath of God upon the whole lot of them. Algy Slave was in a fine rough and tumble with an enemy corporal, Loxuru and RR were making a fine job of seeing off five Germans between them. Repertor, having just felled his own opponent, hurried to their aid.
Spare a thought for poor Jollyrei. Madiosi’s victim had slid down between Messaline’s legs and was now contentedly sitting in Jollyrei’s lap singing ‘Lilli Marlene’. Jollyrei, still blindfolded, sat there saying, “I say, this is a bit thick, what? Have a care and let a chap go so he can join in the fun!”
Wraggles and Schiller were too fully occupied with each other to take the least bit of notice of Jollyrei. Wraggles fancied himself a bit of a boxer, and pressing home the advantage of surprise, was landing a very satisfactory series of punches upon the other, who was manfully attempting to fend them off, but with limited success. Come what may, he’d certainly have a fine black eye to show for this night’s work.
But, fun though it was, it couldn’t last. There were just too many of them. Suddenly Wraggles found himself seized from behind by two burly but bloodied SS men, and, as he surveyed his comrades either snoozing on the ground or similarly restrained, he realised with sadness that the game was up.
“I’ll say this for you and your men, you have courage, even if it is to the point of foolishness, muttered Schiller, wiping blood from his mouth. “Now that you’ve had your moment of fun, you will answer my question.”
“As I say, I would if I could, but I am not able.”
“I’ll tell you what I am going to do, Squadron Leader. One at a time, I am going to nail your men to crosses, saving you till last. The flier – what was his name?”
“Jollyrei, Sir!” An SS-private was quick to answer.
“Crucify him first. Let’s see if that loosens the Squadron Leader’s tongue.”
As they roughly sliced through the cords binding him, and hauled him to his feet, Jollyrei called out, “Don’t say anything on my account, old chap. I can take it. Rather looking forward to being up there with Messa, to tell you the truth! I say, do be careful! That’s my best flying jacket!”
“I don’t think the Geneva Convention condones crucifixion, Schiller!” protested Wraggles.
“It doesn’t condone masquerading as an enemy soldier, either; and I am ‘Lieutenant Schiller’ to you!”
“You’ll pay for this, ‘Schiller’!” RR, one of the conscious survivors, was furious.
But he, Wraggles, Jollyrei, and the others could only watch helplessly as the SS soldiers brought timber from one of the trucks, and assembled it into a cross. Poor Jollyrei was stripped naked in front of the watching Messaline, which at least made the crucified girl smile. They stretched him out onto the cross. A nail was positioned against his wrist.
Wraggles shut his eyes as the hammer was raised into the air.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Schiller. I believe you are looking for me. My name is Barbara Worralson. Do please let dear Jollyrei go.”
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
I say, that's dashed decent of Miss Worralson to show up when she did.
Now if we all strip naked, we're not imposters in German uniforms any more, are we? So these friendly adversaries will treat us well, what?
Why are they still unloading all that wood?
Now the cold's affecting my...........you know.
"Squadron Leader, are we in trouble?"
Now if we all strip naked, we're not imposters in German uniforms any more, are we? So these friendly adversaries will treat us well, what?
Why are they still unloading all that wood?
Now the cold's affecting my...........you know.
"Squadron Leader, are we in trouble?"
You betcha.... things were bad enough, then Barb showed up!
Damn!
Just broke rule number 1 again
windar
Teller of Tales
Now THAT felt good. "The finest uppercut ever seen."
Interestingly enough, in addition to having been a competitive swimmer, as I recounted earlier in the thread, my father had a brief career as a professional boxer. He fought under a fake name, because his mother would have suffered an early death had she known about it. After a few years, and after taking a hard look at the mental competency (or lack thereof) of those who had been boxing longer than he had, he decided to pursue other interests. I was never tempted to follow in his pugilistic footsteps.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Actually, considering her previous story record, there is a hundred percent chance that Barb will end up crucified or another way. So, I am not quite convinced events will take a good twist now that she has shown up.You betcha.... things were bad enough, then Barb showed up!
"seraphically" ... nice new word that describes me so well ... I do hope to see it properly applied here in the future (meaning to yours truly).
You betcha.... things were bad enough, then Barb showed up!
Damn!
Just broke rule number 1 again
Slow to learn
Actually, considering her previous story record, there is a hundred percent chance that Barb will end up crucified or another way. So, I am not quite convinced events will take a good twist now that she has shown up.
Now you too!!!!!!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Ouch! My very first demerits from Barb! Today is a historical day!Now you too!!!!!!
