The Millionaire Waltz

Tomorrow?
Was it yesterday?
What are you talking about? Who was there? Why wasn't I present?
I was? Well what did I do?
I didn't do that. No. I didn't. Oh god I did, didn't I?
Seemed like a great idea at the time.
Well yes, now I remember it. Third times the charm I guess.

When do you wanna get together?
Cool, works for me. You recovered from the ball last night?
The Baron's shin-dig? We all were. You were there.
Of course! You practically fucked Mistress Morgana in front of everybody, in the cake no less.
You did indeed. Yes. You did. Ha ha, I reckon so.
Still seems like a great idea to me.
So you remember now? Well, at least you're consistent.

Beni and the Writer's Stone

Hello dear people of the unknown universe!


Welcome to a segment I like to call; "Beni has a writer's stone!"

Now some of you may be asking, what the ruddy fuck is a writer's stone?
It's simple really, as any well-balanced or even slightly intelligent person would tell you, a writer's stone is a build-up of solid concretions of dissolved procrastinatory minerals in the imaginary tract of the third eye. Which of course leads to blockage, and an inability to pass your imagination properly. This can sometimes lead to infection, which spawns many...many...terrible ideas.


And for those of you who do not fall into the two previously mentioned categories, I will be plain in explanation.
Writer's stones make it painful, or even impossible, for me to piss out my ideas onto paper.
My literary cock is clogged with so much bullshit that I can't even put on a smile and whistle while I work, just...contorted masks and ugly grins.

Hope this sparked some fun images in your head!
Sure didn't do anything for me.