Neverending Story [Game]

[Nurmi]

I hope you don't mean my intestinals!

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

No Nurmi I am sure he didn't mean you.


he was flushed out.

Poo, poo, poo, shit, shit, shit... Was this shithell and some punishment for all his perpetual talking about his stomachcontents. He was confused. Where was he? In some toilet, together with a lot of shit. But how in hell could he be there. He remembered that he had met Moco, but then it was blank. Something very strange metaphysical thing must have happened. And why was he so small. And Who had shitten him out just now? Many questions and no answers.
Plopp,plopp, there came some dirty paper. He saw a big ass that obscured the light. Whos ass?
Then a face looked at him. A big face. Huh nonono not that! Pekka Fucking! Again. Had he really been in Pekkas shitstomach? No! But how?
Pekka looked at him with big eyes.
"What in hell are you doing in my toa", he said ."What? Poet? What on Excessa are you doing there? And why are you so small? Gosh"!
"I have no idea. I was in your stomach"!
"What? Was it you that gave me the diarrea? I thought I had eaten something strange? But it was you, that was the pain in my ass, as you always have been, by the way. And may I ask what your plans for the nearest future are"?
"Nothing especially! Could you to start with fish me up"?
Pekka picked up the little figure and put him under the shower.
"Gosh you are a sweetie", he said.
But when the warm water washed the little doll-poet, he started to grow and grow and grow and he...

[AGAG]

Had absolutely no clothes on, just like pekka. They both remained nude in front of each other. The poet, still with shit on his face from before. Pekka still unwiped and blushed. It was a very special moment in both of their lives "I never thought we would find ourselves like this" Said the poet shyly "We are not supposed to be enemies. Shit is our bond. And binded we will remain. A higher being has transported me to your rectum and.. who am I to have a differing opinion?" He slowly walked towards the toilet and he invited pekka to join in. Standing, they contemplated the shit that floated around like little brown promises. They fetched tiny floating pieces of shit that were still warm from the toilet and they started to rub each other's bodies with lustrous doughy chunks. Arms outstretched. They made figures in the canvas that their complexions lent them generously, making poems spurt out of nowhere. In a beautiful cycle of love and comprehension.

Oh, we are free
No more hate
Just glee
This is fate
Just feel the shit
Dripping over our feet.

From our soles
The shit will enter our souls.

And there it will stay...
And there it will stay...

They went downtown excessa. Still shit coated and happily clothless. There they encountered Freckle who hugged them both passionately at first sight. "Gosh. You both look so pretty" She exclaimed "I knew you two were meant to be friends! haha There has been a lot of metaphysical occurrences this past days and I have been teleported here aswell. Earth is no longer habitable and I was looking for you both because...

[Nurmi]

If I were you i should be worried for sure! Why you always talk about "shit"?

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

He is a poet from El Salvador. You know, Central-America!

I AM STILL AT THE HOSPITAL IN MURMANSK! and I can't possibly have been teleported from here, since I don't remember beeing on Excessa at all! And it would surprise me a lot, if I, with the big hole in my head, would have stamina enough, to make that sound-breaker-journey.
Another thing that bothers me, is that someone here says, that there should have been a nuke(?), somewhere on the Earth. It is not true. Simple as that!
Well, there is something more I think about, when I am visiting this Russian hospital. I am allowed to use my lap-top and I have read the poets post about his admiration and love for the alien scoundrel, and especially for the same's SHIT!
The scoundrel, that only some posts ago made his best to kill, both me and my dear father. Then the poet, as "my best friend", prayed and wept his crocodile-tears. Now, when I am here alone, he has run to Excessa, and not only forgive the scoundrel his kill-attempt, but also his destruction of my fathers only pill, that could have saved me. So great was his love for me and my freckles, that he, litteraly, kissed my adversary in his ass! Huh!
Can I forgive this betrayal? That is MY question, when I have to stay, in this Godforsaken place, and heal the damages that my "best friend's", new love has done to me. I wonder and the answer my friend is, as usual, blowing in the wind.
Now comes the harsh babuschka-doktor with her syrings and, but, what, but...

[AGAG]

what is he doing? He has a 3 cubic meter dose of anti-hallucinogens in that syringe... Anti psilocibin! Butt butt! What is this! Why am I tied to this bed? Someone please explain. Poet!!.." The tall doctor who was really pretty read a diagnose chart and let out a sigh while nodding his head "She isn't improving at all." he said to the poet, who was besides the bed, holding freckle's hand "She still wanders on and on about some place she calls 'excessa' and about the aliens that live on there. That blow must have dislocated her reality lobe. It says another interesting thing in this chart. She just said that you were rubbing the excrement of another man all over your body, in said place: Excessa. Is this true, tovarich? This may be a sign of mental-rain syndrome. Her brain will start to create poems that will slowly replace the air she breathes. She will inhale and exhale poems. This is, of course, not normal and the most inmediat treatment would be an asylum where her brain would be programmed once more" The poet was really ashamed but he wanted to save her friend from the imminent mental institution. He quickly improvised a solo: "Hmm! That sure did happen... It was.. an experiment! I was investigating the effect of feces-bacteria on the skin complexion. I am developing a feces cream I will call 'Shitcream' with which the skin of anyone who uses it will remain white and smooth for decades. Revolutionary! I'm trying to discover if russian shit is more adequate for these goals.. that's why I tried this finno-russian goatfarmer's that looked specially consistent and strong" The russian smiled. He was impressed. No one tested their remedies on themselves anymore and the salvadorean poet sure won a lot of respect in the eyes of the murmansker. The freckled hid a laugh on the bed she was tied to.

But Murmansky was a very good doctor and therefore he asked "And what can you tell me about this place 'excessa'? Is this a repressed childhood memory? Another poem? An hallucination? Lost sun-atoms making love on her head? Maybe under a pine tree?" The poet laughed but his mind was tired to make another solo "No no! It exists" he said "I have been there too. It is a very nice place but I wouldn't actually know how to get there. Or where it is located. But you can ask her! She knows everything about it." Murmansky's eyes looked untrustful. "I see!" he said "I think you also need to take some anti-hallucinogens. Just in case!" The poet refused and after the doctor insisted kindly for some time, he threatened to call a threadlike ambulance to guide them both to a mental asylum in Kandalaksha. Institution known worldwide for their efficient progressive methods and pills.

The poet got really impatient and said "I think there is nothing more to do. She is clearly healthy and this is just russian non-sense. She thinks better than ever before! I will take her home and I will make sure she eats enough fish to cure her head-wound. Thank you for your services doctor." But! Russians were not so easily persuaded. The doctor got a strong threatening countenance set on his face and he got two kalashnikovs out of his white doctor cape, pointing sharply at both of their heads. Yielding one with each hand. Fingers in the triggers. "No one leaves. ponyal? You two are a threat for this nation. No one should dream. That's irrational." But the poet was stubborn. He swiftly raised a lemonade can and threw all the contents to the doctor's face, blinding him momentarily. He quickly untied freckle and they ran outside the hospital, stumbling upon some other patients in white robes. In the parking lot, they hopped dodging a hurricane of bullets and hand granades fired by the doctor, two oncologists, five paediatricians and five more interns, who were called to help for an emergency outbreak. Each with two kalashnikovs and a set of 13 F1-limonkas. They spent each and all of them. It was only on rare occasions when they were allowed to fire at will and they tried to enjoy it at their fullest. The poet and freckle, they ran through the explosions and the gun fire. Hand in hand. They ran and ran and ran... with metal shards dancing over the land...

They reached the forest unharmed, very tired and trying to catch their breath. "I'm really scared of russia..." said the poet. But then a bush started to move. Who was there but...

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

huh, Pekka Fucking. Again! He was pale and tired. And scared! Pekka was scared! And he held a little doll in his hand. A screaming, shitty, little doll.
"I have met my superior", said Pekka. "Someone is after me. Someone with great power. He has my alienlife in his fucking hands and he has done it again.
"What, what?, said the poet.
"Do you maybe get what you deserve"? said Freckle. "Look what you did to me! I have still a big hole in my head, and one of my plaites has gone"!
"It wasn't me! It was something that took me and made me hit you. But I never did that hole. You fell on the table, when I loveslapped you a little. And then came the hero-poet along"!
"But, what is up now? And that screaming thing what is that"? asked the poet.
"I am not sure, but I think it is Adrian9 from Zuela, and I have shit him! I have actually shit him!He was in my stomach, just like you Poet, but here is no warm water to let him grow under, so he has stayed a shitty doll. Vojne, vojne! Why do I shit so strange? And how will this end"?
"Adrian9"? said Freckle. "And he is Pekka-shitty so we must wash him. But where? We are close to the Finnish border, and we have Russian K-pists after us. Hurry! And put shitty Adrian in your cap, poet, and tell him to be quiet.

The three ran to the border where they met a same, that let them use his reindeer and an akkja, so they could go to Öhubbles fishingcamp. And at last little Adrian9 could have his warm shower. And he grew, and grew, and grew, but he was still screaming.
" Who, I say WHO did this to me? I have been through HELL in that scoundrels stomach. It was the worst I have experienced in my whole life"!
"Jaja, tell me about it", said the poet.
"I think I am the new Stinky, the pregnant man", said Pekka, "And from now on I must always look at my shit. Huh! But I really wonder who is it that putts people in MY stomach! Who, who?

Now there was a big flash and a loudloud thunder...

[adrian9]

a fucking delorean just pops in!!

- what the...- adrian said

the cars open its door and its ---------FUTURE JENS!!

- oh my god is that jens!? - said freckle
- yeah there car is covered in duck tape it mus be him - said the poet.

- hey boys and girls , oh fuck I cant be seen by you guys it would alter the future!!!- said jens and started to run--

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

I saw that your darling is sick, I mean more sick than he was before...


"Butt, Butt", said Freckle, "Are you sure, Adrian 9? Was it really Jens? And that car? Was it a future car? To me it looked a 1954-model. And right backwheel was punctuated".
"Yes, you are right! Now when I think about it. That must have been a ghostcar from the past. And the driver was someone that imitated Jens. Huh Huh! PENNYWISE! Nooo, he has come back! Vojne vojne in Venezuelanlanguage...(I have NO idea what that would be)...What can we do"?

Brum, brum! A new car appeared! It was...

[Arnold Layne]

HUH!

Arnold Layne

[Karlheinz Stockhausen]

May I ask what the HECK you are doing here? Dinner is served...

[Arnold Layne]

Four beers, or no deal.

Arnold Layne

[Karlheinz Stockhausen]

Aber Arnold!You are a little bear-sucker, Arnold!. But okey-dokey, since you are expecting our baby, you can drink for two now, Arnold. Isn't that great? :luv1:

[mocobhc]

...it was Öhubble, to everyone's delightment!

"Finally I found you, I've already wondered if I missed the right timeline! Hurry, hurry, hop in! We have to be back at two weeks ago before lunchtime, otherwise I'm not sure what will happen to the space-time-continuum! We have to prevent Pennywise from stealing the Delorean, God knows what he is going to do with it, and finally kill him, once and for all! I'm so sick and tired of the return of that clown! I just hope we don't meet ourselves in the past, huh!"
He pushed them all into the car and rushed off.

Freckle was happy to see her father safe and alive and was about to ask him how he survived his serious injuries, when she realised that they were about to go back to the day when those terrible alienhounds had eaten half of Finland.
"Weird," she thought to herself worriedly, "if I wouldn't know better I'd assume he's going back just to prevent the alienhounds from eating his lab... maybe I should keep an eye on him, this all really wrecked his nerves a little bit."

They arrived and nearly crashed into...

[eternity_strato]

Sugar Boobs

[AGAG]

They crashed into sugar boobs, of course. That was the new laboratory's codename. Clever codename! With the intention of making this new lab a trifling matter for any alien or KGB agent looking for undercover pill makers. It was disguised with new finnish technology and everything looked superficially like a really modern restaurant with big-butted waitresses, manually made by hubble. No one knew that they were metal robots and that their charming smiles were the product of a highly sophisticated human-mimicking computer programm.. fooling the most clever of men with their disgruntling metal-proportions and proven to be a tiny bit more efficient than humans on average, with no funny unstable intervals every month like their flesh counterparts.

They almost crashed on their 54 model when entering sugar boobs. Hubble was driving and he was really nervous. He had seen a really strange car on their way there, it looked like spies again and he was worried someone would have had the need to destroy his newly constructed laboratory once more... But the place was intact and no one seemed to be around. It was a very weird thing.. The whole place was dessertic, like an enormous cone of icecream nest of two pigeonlovers, too shy and beautiful at sight to disturb with unnecessary footsteps. After hubble and the poet paid a visit to the city by foot, they could arrive to a conclusion... It was the same all over the town. No one No one!! At all.

They returned into the restaurant after a while. They sat and ordered coffee. It was night and it was a bit cold. There was a strange silence floating around the table. It was on the air too.. Everyone looked at their coffee as if the smoke contained little words they could sort out a meaning of if they looked closely enough. With enough attention. Different words! Because everyone had different thoughts on that table. More or less... Hubble was worried because his restaurant had no customers, his robots were idle and started to gossip in a corner of the restaurant about programing languages and the most efficient OS. Freckle because a thunderstorm was closing in and there were no available lovers at sight, no pinetrees, not to mention confortable beds with white sheets. She could hear the thunderkabooms and she started to clench her hands around the coffee mug a tiny bit more tightly. Her fingers felt warm all of a sudden.. Adrian was dissapointed because he didn't fancied robots physically and he was hoping to see another blonde finnish girl in the restaurant to satisfy his 2/3 second needs. He had some girl-fetching songs ready and his guitarra was getting untuned on its case. Girlless. Moco was hungry and needed to eat a book, sadly there was no book delivery boy in town and walking to the empty library was too much of a hassle. She started to think about bottles. The poet started to complain again about the floor in a low voice. Apparently it was really annoying for him that it was there all the time, under his feet. He longed for the day when his soles could fly up and be free. No longer reminded of gravity by trivial things like soil of different textures but the same elements.

Everyone smiled at the words of the poet because there was nothing else to smile about. Smiled tainted of tolerance and comprehension. Sugar boobs was becoming a vapid place really quickly with no tables and no robots and no freckles and no hubbles.. only smiles that smiled to each other like old portraits that are tired of facing each other in a living room, paralyzed and unable to twist their necks towards a window, but still obligingly so because each other is all they have on the neverending. Haha! Of course! because: What would become of Hubble without her daughter? of the poet without freckle?? A ruined history.. Empty shit-stained photographs.

Butt! No time for that! In the distance.. The sound of a bell. A wounded man rode a bike and he was wounded. He hopped off and screamed while getting his helmet off... "Penny it is penny!!! He has returned with dime and...

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Oh dear, Oh dear, you sound a little blue in your beautiful poetic style. I love your language. I can feel your distance and it goes to my heart...


"Thunder! Beware, beware", said the cykling man, "The Clown is angry and an angry Clown, means death, death".
The smiling party, looked even more as portraits of themselves. They could hear the thunder come closer and it flashed as never before.
Freckle looked around. No lover in sight and who could hold her icecold hands, when she was terrorstricken?
Her father? No! He was occupied with Moco. He liked to talk to young women, about his jazzlife and she was a good listener.
Adrian9? No! Freckle wasn't that sort of blonde, he liked, and he practiced on his guitarra.
The Poet? Her best friend? Yes, yes! He looked as lost and blue, as she felt and he looked at her. She knew that he didn't like thunder, and that he hated the Clown, that once tried to eat him from the middle!
She stretched out her hands and he took them. She felt his warmth.
"Thank you, you are here", she said, "As long as we are here, in this strange Neverending-world, we have our neverending friendship and love for each other. That means everything to me. Without you I would never stay in this fantasyplace. You are my reason for everything here! If you leave I will leave. Come let us hide, since this nasty, evil clown is after us both".
They ran to Freckles house and into a closet. They heard the boomkaboom, from the heavy storm, but did not see the flashes. Freckle was really scared, but only for the sound and not the flashes, what would have been more logical. The poet was most afraid of the Clown. He remembered the pain from the sharp teeth, in his micro.
Huh! There was a strong sound from the door. It was bolted but, but huhuuu...

[AGAG]

The knocking was rushing and the door crumbled down. Boom it made, Boom. The strange visitor had discovered the two of them in bed and they were in the bed. What could the possibly be doing?. In the midst of a thunderstorm behind a bolted door?... Singing, of course! She made huu and he made höö in a beautiful soup of smiles. He was holding her hands and it was Jarrett in the air and it sounded beautiful in both of their voices. The poet was hasty because Evans was probably next in queue. Waltz for Freckly. But the visitor had interrupted a solo and now it was only bassboom. And they both stared at him "You don't know how it pains me.." said the bike man "To interrupt this beautiful melody, all these lovely improvisations... even worst that it was with this boom.. I secretly like jazz a lot. But.. There's a wise in the home and he has threatened to use extreme measures if you choose to ignore him. He looks old and stubborn and had a hand granade. What can we do?" The man looked worried. Wise was indeed on the smiling table which had no more smiles. He insisted that every survivor was there with him. Apparently the no-people disease was out of his control and he was there asking for help.

Freckle was shining blue again. Lighting the whole room. The thunderstorm stopped as if it was a subproduct of the singing and not the other way around. The clouds remained there, like a public that waits for Jarrett to get yet another idea. Haha, who made the rain? The poet was happily and they went to see the interrupter clown with freckle. He said the following:...

[eternity_strato]

Black Woman!

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Breaking news!

This is NOT the wordgame! This is the Neverending STORY. Ja!

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Were HU and HÖ the only Jarrett-phrases you could remember. And why was Freckle so blue?


"Hrm, hrm, from closet to bed in only one post? And singing Jarrett? You are advanced, you two", said the bike-man, when he showed them the way to the Clown.
Freckle blushed as she always do. But the Poet smiled. "Sometimes things just happens from post to post, in Neverending, and we love to sing together".
Poor Freckle blushed even more. She can't help it.

It was of course a bit folish to go out in a storm and look for a man they both feared, but they were suddenly very brave and active and they planned to go back as soon as they could and start singing Evans.
Boldly they met up with Pennywise, but it wasn't the Clown, it was his father, Papawise.
"I have come to warn you for my son. He is after you and I will help you. He has killed enough now and has too much to answer for. I will give you this mantles, that makes you invulnerable. When you wear them you can be safe".
"Thank you" said the Poet, "Butt, butt, can we sing in those mantles"?
"Sing? Yes of course, "said Papawise and looked very bewildered, "You can sing, as much as you like".
Freckle blushed! Again! "Yes we want to sing Evans now", she said.
The poet made a singsong.

Sing, sing, sing,
Everybody get to sing, sing,
Hang with us and have the Evans-swing-swing,
sing, sing, sing.

Singing brightens up your day,
And if you like to sing, you may,
Sing with us, we sing along,
So sing with us in this swingevanssong,
Sing, swing, sing.

Clap your hands and and sing along in our FrecklePoetsingsong.
Sing, sing, plong.

But behind the bush stood the not singing angry Clown and his red nose glowed of frustation.
"My own Papawise", he thought, "My own father is helping my enemy. Those two have ridiculed me, they have thrown me down stairs, through windows and the girl has tried to burn me up in my own owen. They are Satans Meat and I will give them something to sing about. I shall cook them or maybe eat them raw".
He laughed his strange, whining crackeling laugh, so hard, that his hiding bush fell down and died. All could suddenly see the pathetic figure.
"The Clown", said Freckle,"Look he is here".
"Don't spit fire, son", said Papawisw. "Those kids are nice and they will only sing, so why don't you let them"?
"Sing? Sing? You are so naiv, Papawise! They have hurt my clownsoul and I will have revenge. Now!"
"Put on your mantles! Fast!," said Papawise.
They did and Pennywise boiled over from hate, but he couldn't do a thing.
"You wait. In some posts I will come back and there will be no more singing for you, when you take off your damn mantles".
But now...

[Arnold Layne]

A Leeds-man living on pension,
Was impregnated by someone he won't mention,
And because this man humped him,
Karlheinz dumped him,
So he's come here seeking attention.

Arnold Layne

[AGAG]

I'm sorry! My phrase-memory is quite short. Specially these days

A clown-free singing contest followed suit! Of course, that was the only logical succession after the Wise's visit. They started with the expected Evans solos, waltz for penny. This time it was not only 'Hu' but also 'Tu' and sometimes some 'Tü' took place in the general scheme of things. They sat in the smiling table where the smiles had floated upwards and they were now stuck on the ceiling. Now on the table there were pretty singing melodies and they danced around. Suddenly it was a party and they were all singing. Hubble got out his dusty guitarr and he strummed some strumms in a nice rhythm. One of the robot waitresses turned into a pianola and there was room for a freckle/poet 4 handed Evans improvisation. Then a Jarrett solo by freckle called "Frarrett" that was 29 minutes long but no one ever got bored one bit. The night was still young and Hubble had an idea.

"I know!" he said, happy "Let's go to the graveyard. I have a surprise for you, my children. Komm komm!" They went to the local graveyard in bikes and they hopped the fence because it was closed at night. It was all dark but the midnight moon was up on the skies, watering everything. They all followed hubble on a line, he had his guitar and he was singing some "Turu" phrases along with the strumming. Finally they arrived to a grave. Hubble said "Ahh! We meet again, old friend. We need you today so I hope you don't mind I wake you up for one night. It will be worth it I assure you! We have guests." Hubble got a reviving machine from one of his pockets and started to sing more loudly in front of the inscription that read "Here rests Stan Getz, the king of jews". Slowly, the ground started to open as if it was a door. And who got out but Getz himself! He was wearing a white expensive suit and he had a shiny saxophone in his hands. "Old friend!" He said "I knew you were going to call me one of these days. I played with Evans AGAIN the other day on heaven. That guy is crazy. God loves him. You should see the piano he's got on his cloud, pure diamonds" They hugged and everyone was introduced. Now they began to play right there in the tetric landscape, over the graves. Freckle/poet on piano, Adrian/Hubble on guitars, Saxo by Getz and Moco secretly played the drums and the russian girl played the doublebass. It was a party.

Soon every other grave habitant that was asleep felt the rhythm and tthey woke up with gorgeous tuxedos and they started to dance around the improvising improvised band. No one could help it, not even the germans that were buried in the cementery. There were old couples dancing in pairs and the more young laughed in the corners with rain-beverages in their hands. The thunders gave the accents every now and then, so the music wouldn't get lost. It went on and on and there were bluerayed solos by freckle.

It was morning on Finland, the land where everyone loves jazz, and...

[mocobhc]

... and the morning dew sparkled from the green grass. The birds began to trill one after another, and the dead who were tired from their unusual night activities prepared to lay down in their earthen beds once more. The sun rose slowly from the top of a hill and turned everything into brightest light. Everyone seemed to wake up from a dream, a dream fulfilled with peace and happiness and joy, but it slowly came to an end. No one said a word. The poet and Freckle took each others hands, both trying to enjoy the last minutes of this rememberable night as intensive as possible.

No one wanted to be the first to speak and break the silence. Finally Öhubble turned around and slowly went back towards the forest they had come through the evening before. They happily and wordlessly wandered through the sundrenched forest until they reached a cottage. It was painted in white and looked quite appealing. A bank and a table, both made of the finest wood, stood in front of the cottage. They sat down to have a rest. The cottage owner came outside and offered them a little breakfast. He asked the foreigners about the jazz music he had heard during the night, but no one wanted to share their experience with him, and they shook heads. They told him that they wanted to proceed up north to the end of the forest.

Suddenly the cottage owner’s face became clouded. “Do not go any further, I beg you. You are such a nice bunch of people, and you seem to be so happy altogether. Nothing good will await you in the northern forest, believe me! Please don’t go.”

The others were stunned. This nice and peaceful forest couldn’t bear anything bad! They thanked the cottage owner for his hospitality and his good advice, but he could see he hadn’t managed to persuade them. He sighed.

”I have warned you. The northern forest is evil! But I see I can’t prevent you from continuing. So let me just say this one more thing:
The clown are not what they seem.”

He turned around worriedly and locked his door. Through the window they could see how he lighted a candle and began to pray.

After a few miles of walking, they reached a valley. It was colder than before, the sun hid behind the forest. Another cottage came in sight, a black painted one, aged and weathered. Not a single sound was to be heard, not even birds singing. They shivered and began to feel slightly uncomfortable when their way led them towards the dark cottage…

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

So beautiful!

Noone opened when they knocked at the door and there was no smoke in the chimney. A window was broken and the door glided up with a shrieck, when Moco turned the handle.
It smelled of decay and rotten rats and Moco backed with a shudder.
"I don't wan't to go in there", she said." This is a sanatory inconvenience and noone can live in a place like this".
"But, but", said the Poet, "If we have gone so far in the wilderness, we can't just go away without looking".
He boldly stepped in and the others followed him very cautiously.
There was two small rooms and a little kitchen and the windows were so smudged that it was very dark. At the kitchentable stood a bowl of some porridge, a cup of tea and a halfeaten sandwish. Freckle took up the cup and almost dropped it, as if it burnt her, "Gosh it is hot",she said, and her eyes were very big.
"What, what"? said Öhubble. "But here is noone and noone can live like this. How did the tea got warm and where is the porridge cooked. There is no fire in this fireplace"!!
"We must look in the rooms", said the practical Olga Karenina.
And they went into the smallest room. There was a little bed, with an old blanket. Everything looked like it was made for dolls.
"This is so strange and very unpleasant", said Öhubble, "I think we better leave very fast".
They went to the door. But where was the door? Nowhere! They went to the kitchen again. But what? The porridge, the tea and the sandwish had disappeared and the bowl and the cup stood now at the bench.
"What", said Moco, "What is happening here. Who ate that porridge"?
"And where is that fucking door"? said Adrian9 that had lost some of his energy.
They went out in the little hall again. But still no door! And the rooms were suddenly smaller now. The walls had come closer and seemed to breathe heavily. The windows looked like eyes. Blind eyes...

[HinatAArcticA]

Then Hinata recived a price for one of the most succesfull topics in the History of the Forum. So succesfull that Jens even moved it from Spam to the Stratovarius section of the forum.

Then I started singing...

"Remember when I told you how my
Kin is different in some ways?
And how you should not fall in love
With someone like me, anyway...
Between the lines, people see signs
When they feel the sear, every day's fear...
And one night their torches
Find the girl without a name...
And the one who has her
Love is no more safe..."

"And until I get my peace I'm but a shade..."

The sun lit the White Mountain's snow covered peaks,
There I see you, amongst the good people, suffering...
"She is the One, the unwanted, decidedly so,
'cause she makes our children cry.
It's a fact, she is exactly that!
A harbinger of death from the world of Witchcraft,
And she's feeding them cakes and her ale to this innocent boy,
And her magic brings dismay..."

"I hear her in the wind, the bane of our town
Come with me, father, I'm to expose a heathen"

In my home town
No one's safe now
Young love's been forbidden
For five-fold kisses, my only love had to die...

"Your crops are all flourishing, so what's the catch?
I know what you are, the new evil unhatched...
As sure as the dawn, they will hear what I know,
And recognize you, and you'll be cleansed too..."

For the good, trusting people in town,
In their fear stricken hearts,
Seeing skyclad's a sign like the Deathaura,
Every night, so painful's the memory of love in the dark.
One wheel of the year ends their short lives in fear

"I hear her in the wind, the bane of our town.
Come with me, oh, father the heathen is exposed."

In the age of burning times, you saved my life
...The blaze grew ever higher.
I was your Cunning Man... hiding in the light,
Now your land shall go sour...

Your own fears will destroy everything
Envy consumes all, and "thou shall not..."
Though it hurts, I must tell you
"I am truly the One
...Behind it all..."

In the hands of time we all will die
The dead of night will devour your child...
The creation o' beliefs you've been fed
The fear, the unknown, the poison loved by death.

In the cool of the night air
Flames purify minds, where
Almost anyone could be the next...
"Unless morning finds all of them somehow hexed..."

"I remember how you told me,
Your kin's different, on that sunny day?"
"You made me smile,
'cause I was just about to say the same thing..."
So deeply entwined, love of a lifetime...

But they paid someone to say their torment has a name
And after all these years we get to be together for all eternity...


Then the Topic somehow became Property of Öx10
And I raged because I wasn't going to read so long posts .

[eternity_strato]

And then Hitler appeared and went to eat some cake. But not a chocolate fancy cake, no. He was eating a monster cake made of...

[Hubble86]

white German arisch buttercream and when he found what he was looking for he gobbled it like a pig.

"Hi Adolf, are you looking for cakes", said Adrian9, "Or is it maybe a periphrasis for blonde girls? In that case, you and I are out in the same errand. I don't like brown cakes either so...
"Butt, Butt", said the poet," Adolf, what are you doing here in Finland? Now? Isn't it the wrong place and wrong time"?
"Aber Ja, butt the blonde cakes are here, so I am going to look for them. I have always wanted to be a great artist. I am tired of politics and will paint again and start with the blondes".
"Jaja", said the poet, "Everyone had felt better if you never quit your painting".
"Jaja, but better late than never, hah"! said Adolf and picked up his brushes. "Come on Adrian9, let us look for blondes"!
Butt what came into the cakeshop...

[AGAG]

But Herr Stockhausen in a tweed suit made of leaves. He looked prepared to conduct a vast choir of blonde arsich girls. He said ¨Well, isn´t this the most beautiful sight there is? Look out there. It is a flock of blondes I have hypnotized with my German charms. They are really young and we are making a reprise of the Gesang everyone loves. Now it will be called Der Blonde Gesang des Big-Arschedes Kinders. IT will win prizes everywhere. Just wait and see. I need cakes to delude them and make them think I actually love each and everyone of them.. Haha! German kinder, Ach, so innocent... Aber! I NEED STRUDELS. Please chef, give me Strudels. The children demand... Don´t hurt the children¨ The poet then heard everything the German had to say about his music he seemed so enthusiastic about, while the strudels crumbled in a big oven. Adolf and Karlheinz laughed about art and paintures while enjoying a glass of white beer and cheese. ¨I have painted the world¨ Said adolf ¨And you have made the music that melts the molds of mankind. Maybe we can make many things together. Do you need a singer? People say I have a gift and I want to make sure. Besides! Those blondes look really dedicated, look at the waters on their mouths.. They sure love strudels. I would like to meet them... for artistical purposes.¨

The poet was extremely interested in the conversation. But he got up and said ¨Please, hold your thoughts! I need to pay a visit to the restroom and find a comfortable keyboard to store this story more adequately. I promise I´ll be back! Ach ach!¨

And then...

[eternity_strato]

before it was destroyed by an alien mothership. Incredibly, Adolf managed to get out of it in time and was rescued by the same mothership, who had playing "farewell #2" by return to dreamspace.

Tulkki, leader of the mothership, explained that only hitler and kabbalah ruled his life because some years ago he fought against his evil twin Tolkki and they were in a huge fight for ages, and when he was gonna lose the battle, hitler praying for kabbalah popped into his mind and made a huge revelation: "you should always wear swimsuit under your pants, you moron". Then, he saved him from the cake shop massacre.

It was amazing that this happened, because Ted Mosby, looking for his deaf, blind wife, had plans to buy some cake. And because the cake shop was destroyed, he started flying onto the mothership. When he got there, another song from the evil twin was playing: "chevaliers de sangreal". But the hair wasn't the same.

Tulkki showed his true face... He was...

-wait for it-

ALBINO TIMO! And with kabbalah, hitler and ted mosby looking desperate for his wife, went into Venus and came back in less than an hour. And what they brought from there was extraordinary. And revolutionary. And every word you can imagine ending on -ary. Except legendary.

They brought a huge motherfuc*ing MP3 player with every Elements demo. Sung by Miss K.

Miss K appeared from nowhere in the mothership. And she revealed the magic words:

"I am Ted Mosby's wife. And I am Hitler."

They collapsed and Miss K sang another tune. The world screamed in pain. Popkiller was it.

But, Michael Jordan together with Gandhi broke the rules of nature when...