To My Dearest Sister, Edith

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To My Dearest Sister Edith,

Forgive me for intruding upon you at this inopportune time. Father has kept me informed of how busy you have been at Culhough Farm, and I have no desire to burden you with what may transpire in the fullness of time to be yet another of my unfortunate episodes, but if I am permitted a moment of frank and open honesty, truly I must confess that I am wracked with uncertainty as might constitute my undoing.

Of all the people whom it has been my privelege to encounter in my short life to date, you are perhaps my dearest and most trustworthy of friends. You comforted me with such devotion in the long months after we lost our beloved Mother, and I am indebted to you for protecting my honour two years ago this June when Lord Boothroyd's butler took it upon himself to rearrange my bustles behind the shrubbery at Rogeringwood Hall. It will come as no surprise to you that I have once again fallen foul of my own nemesis, on this occasion in the guise of an idle remark, proffered quite without malice or dishonorable intent, which others have subsequently taken as evidence that I am the most shameless of harlots.

I believe you are best placed to offer me wise counsel on my reflections, the better that I may once again walk out with my head held high, my integrity bound by steadfast straps to my heart, and no aspersions cast upon what I believe the people in the village refer to as my "unseemly conduct".

I speak, of course, of my great desire to share even the briefest of moments alone with the handsome Sir Cumberbatch -- a desire it is my discomfort to report has passed from beyond the bounds of my own lips and is now the subject of considerable outrage in the snug room of The Bumpkin & Arsehole. Oh, my sister, it was but the merest whisper as did pass my lips. I yearned only to relieve the stricken gentleman of his sorrow with kind words and the gentlest kiss of affection upon his forlorn brow, but the villagers now speak of me as if I prevailed upon him with base desires uppermost in my mind, such were my unguarded mutterings as I sliced the cucumbers for the sandwiches at Lady Crotchcrust's impromptu gala.

I do believe Spring's emergence fills us all with youthful folly, and it is my misfortune to be more brazen and outspoken about my passions than most, but is it really so shameful to desire that a man blessed with such beauty and grace as Sir Cumberbatch be revealed before one's gaze in a state of partial undress -- and to desire such a spectacle with no profanities spoken and only the softest touch of teeth upon apparel?

Your reply will be generous and truthful, of that I am certain, but I pray also that it will reach me before my next confession this coming Sunday. You alone will appraise me of my behaviour's true portent, and you alone will guide me through my months as a pariah if it is your considered belief that I have sinned and must be shamed.

Do please impress upon Mister Culcough my sincerest hope that a swift cure be found for his unfortunate boil. I know it has upset him greatly during the months since Christmas when he has been unable to take comfort in his beloved rocking chair.

I shall bring this letter to a close now as I fear the onset of another hot flush that would render my script undecipherable, and if I am ultimately to be dishonoured and shamed, it is my wish that I commit to paper at least one more time a signature unsullied by Satan's evil spasms.

Your devoted sister,

Mary-Louise Hussidrops
  • Profile picture of the author Kay King
    To My Dear Sister Mary-Louise -

    My poor child - what travails have consumed you. I see only one curative for your unfortunate dilemma. Implore Lord Cumberbatch to accompany you to the Hie Thee Inn....and g.e.t....a....r.o.o.m....
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    • Profile picture of the author Zodiax
      Is this a writer's club?

      I don't think I was invited.
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      • Profile picture of the author Claude Whitacre
        Originally Posted by Zodiax View Post

        Is this a writer's club?

        I don't think I was invited.
        Your invitation is buried in paragraph 36 of the Princess's latest dissertation.
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        • Profile picture of the author MissTerraK
          Princess,

          I hate to be the one to disillusion your fantasy, but, but...




          Terra
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          • Are they squids on that guy's shoulders?

            What in hell kinda military is that?
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            • Profile picture of the author MissTerraK
              The English military, I do believe.

              You know, with St. Mary Abbots being in Kensington, London and all.


              Terra
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              • Profile picture of the author ThomM
                Brake out the whip cream and shave all them squirrels.
                Looks like we got us a party em hare.
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            • Profile picture of the author TimPhelan
              Originally Posted by Princess Balestra View Post

              Are they squids on that guy's shoulders?

              What in hell kinda military is that?
              The way he's holding that sword wouldn't exactly instill fear in an enemy either.
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            • Profile picture of the author yukon
              Banned
              Originally Posted by Princess Balestra View Post

              Are they squids on that guy's shoulders?

              What in hell kinda military is that?

              Henry Arnold Cumberbatch
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              Hi
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              • I am such a lousily obsessed stalker.

                Thing is, I knew my darlin' Benno was descended from royal stock.


                Dear lord, I could listen to this all day.

                Sound of his voice compels my every body hair to rise up an' slowly work my clothes right offa me.

                It is artful seduction of the most beautiful kind.

                Luckily nuthin' like this occurred when I took in the Hobbit, even though the Smaug scene went on longer than most small rodent lifetimes.

                There is sumthin' about suckin' on a plastic cuppa pop, allied to evil draconian intent, that stops ya jus' short of pantin' all irregular.

                But I am gonna be doomed in November.

                Dr Strange trailers an' pix are droppin' all over YouTube right now, an' I do not envisage exercisin' any kinda restraint when sublime sorcery draws back the lids of my cinemagoin' Agamotto an' spills its magicks with a trademark Marvel excelsior splash.

                Gotta figure also that standard superhero movie bad guy staples like weirdo gadgets or radioactively enchanced body parts gonna be swept away in a wave of evil arcana.

                I jus' hope they figure the mood right, cos this ain't The Avengers or Spidey.
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                Lightin' fuses is for blowin' stuff togethah.

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  • Profile picture of the author PaulSch
    I could not help but read your missive to your sister Edith; she did nought but wave it under my nose, whilst having a fit of the vapours for ten minutes after reading it.

    You filthy, brazen, shameless trollop.

    Kindly do me the service of never contacting your sister again when she is in my company, never try to darken my door with your presense and never, ever use my olive oil in any of your fantasies with this cad.
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  • Profile picture of the author whateverpedia
    Originally Posted by Princess Balestra View Post

    The Bumpkin & Arsehole.
    My favourite pub.
    Originally Posted by Princess Balestra View Post

    Lady Crotchcrust
    Part of the Whitacre family tree?
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    Why do garden gnomes smell so bad?
    So that blind people can hate them as well.
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    • Profile picture of the author tagiscom
      Originally Posted by Princess Balestra View Post

      To My Dearest Sister Edith,

      Forgive me for intruding upon you at this inopportune time. Father has kept me informed of how busy you have been at Culhough Farm, and I have no desire to burden you with what may transpire in the fullness of time to be yet another of my unfortunate episodes, but if I am permitted a moment of frank and open honesty, truly I must confess that I am wracked with uncertainty as might constitute my undoing.

      Of all the people whom it has been my privelege to encounter in my short life to date, you are perhaps my dearest and most trustworthy of friends. You comforted me with such devotion in the long months after we lost our beloved Mother, and I am indebted to you for protecting my honour two years ago this June when Lord Boothroyd's butler took it upon himself to rearrange my bustles behind the shrubbery at Rogeringwood Hall. It will come as no surprise to you that I have once again fallen foul of my own nemesis, on this occasion in the guise of an idle remark, proffered quite without malice or dishonorable intent, which others have subsequently taken as evidence that I am the most shameless of harlots.

      I believe you are best placed to offer me wise counsel on my reflections, the better that I may once again walk out with my head held high, my integrity bound by steadfast straps to my heart, and no aspersions cast upon what I believe the people in the village refer to as my "unseemly conduct".

      I speak, of course, of my great desire to share even the briefest of moments alone with the handsome Sir Cumberbatch -- a desire it is my discomfort to report has passed from beyond the bounds of my own lips and is now the subject of considerable outrage in the snug room of The Bumpkin & Arsehole. Oh, my sister, it was but the merest whisper as did pass my lips. I yearned only to relieve the stricken gentleman of his sorrow with kind words and the gentlest kiss of affection upon his forlorn brow, but the villagers now speak of me as if I prevailed upon him with base desires uppermost in my mind, such were my unguarded mutterings as I sliced the cucumbers for the sandwiches at Lady Crotchcrust's impromptu gala.

      I do believe Spring's emergence fills us all with youthful folly, and it is my misfortune to be more brazen and outspoken about my passions than most, but is it really so shameful to desire that a man blessed with such beauty and grace as Sir Cumberbatch be revealed before one's gaze in a state of partial undress -- and to desire such a spectacle with no profanities spoken and only the softest touch of teeth upon apparel?

      Your reply will be generous and truthful, of that I am certain, but I pray also that it will reach me before my next confession this coming Sunday. You alone will appraise me of my behaviour's true portent, and you alone will guide me through my months as a pariah if it is your considered belief that I have sinned and must be shamed.

      Do please impress upon Mister Culcough my sincerest hope that a swift cure be found for his unfortunate boil. I know it has upset him greatly during the months since Christmas when he has been unable to take comfort in his beloved rocking chair.

      I shall bring this letter to a close now as I fear the onset of another hot flush that would render my script undecipherable, and if I am ultimately to be dishonoured and shamed, it is my wish that I commit to paper at least one more time a signature unsullied by Satan's evil spasms.

      Your devoted sister,

      Mary-Louise Hussidrops
      Yes, Princess, soppy Pride and Prejudice novels and acid rarely mix.

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  • Profile picture of the author HeySal
    Um.. yeah. Okay. I don't know how to respond to this.
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    Sal
    When the Roads and Paths end, learn to guide yourself through the wilderness
    Beyond the Path

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    • Originally Posted by HeySal View Post

      Um.. yeah. Okay. I don't know how to respond to this.
      Yeah, I know, Sal.

      I was out on a limb here like an acrobat balancin' on a pinky.

      Thing is, we had the Equinox on Sunday, an' I had a cool time in a sweet burst of sunshine made me feel all perky, so I posted about the optimism ridin' on that.

      Seemed to have a kinda purity to me, devoid of any kinda sexual charge, but somehow Benedict Cumberbatch showed up, along with a noo word for the squishy part on the inside of a cucumber, an' I guess the mods decided to find in favor of merciless censorship.

      It is a shame because I love the virgin innocence of Spring an' I was jus' tryin' to voice somea that.

      But now the whole narrative has moved on, an' I gotta tellya I would love to be strapped into a restrictive ballgown for the night.

      Sense I get from alla the Austen (an' any TV drama where the gals look like walkin' Liberty Bells) is a real claustrophobia of the spirit like evryone was juicin' away underneath with no hope ever of havin' their passion rise to the surface.

      I guess it made for great literature an' kept down the cussin', an' mebbe after a night in a suffocatin' straitjacket of a garment you'd toss like frickin' bronco if some guy letcha out -- it is bad enough wearin' boots sumtimes.

      One thing is for certain: I do not imagine performin' backflips in bustles would be easy.

      I was never a flipper, though I am easy to pick up an' swing around -- an' I am jus' pickin' up on your dance comments here, Sal, because I can't find the original trail an' I wanna demonstrate how multitaskin' is jus' a clever euphemism for laziness -- but I never made out much in javelin-style show heels.

      Now, heels, bustles an' a Sal hat -- I would pay to see someone bein' super gymnastical in that apparel combo.

      Heels, bustles, Sal hats, light sabres -- linea showgirls mebbe dancin' to that dead piano guy.

      Woo hoo!

      Get me front row with a buncha nachos an' a barrel of Dr Pepper.
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      Lightin' fuses is for blowin' stuff togethah.

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      • Profile picture of the author HeySal
        Originally Posted by Princess Balestra View Post

        Yeah, I know, Sal.

        I was out on a limb here like an acrobat balancin' on a pinky.

        Thing is, we had the Equinox on Sunday, an' I had a cool time in a sweet burst of sunshine made me feel all perky, so I posted about the optimism ridin' on that.

        Seemed to have a kinda purity to me, devoid of any kinda sexual charge, but somehow Benedict Cumberbatch showed up, along with a noo word for the squishy part on the inside of a cucumber, an' I guess the mods decided to find in favor of merciless censorship.

        It is a shame because I love the virgin innocence of Spring an' I was jus' tryin' to voice somea that.

        But now the whole narrative has moved on, an' I gotta tellya I would love to be strapped into a restrictive ballgown for the night.

        Sense I get from alla the Austen (an' any TV drama where the gals look like walkin' Liberty Bells) is a real claustrophobia of the spirit like evryone was juicin' away underneath with no hope ever of havin' their passion rise to the surface.

        I guess it made for great literature an' kept down the cussin', an' mebbe after a night in a suffocatin' straitjacket of a garment you'd toss like frickin' bronco if some guy letcha out -- it is bad enough wearin' boots sumtimes.

        One thing is for certain: I do not imagine performin' backflips in bustles would be easy.

        I was never a flipper, though I am easy to pick up an' swing around -- an' I am jus' pickin' up on your dance comments here, Sal, because I can't find the original trail an' I wanna demonstrate how multitaskin' is jus' a clever euphemism for laziness -- but I never made out much in javelin-style show heels.

        Now, heels, bustles an' a Sal hat -- I would pay to see someone bein' super gymnastical in that apparel combo.

        Heels, bustles, Sal hats, light sabres -- linea showgirls mebbe dancin' to that dead piano guy.

        Woo hoo!

        Get me front row with a buncha nachos an' a barrel of Dr Pepper.
        Oh holy shyte. I actually empathize with this. When did my sanity become so precariously balanced?

        Burn the corsets. The shoes, dear Princess, are for dancing. The hat is for real life. Ya know - well, I'm sure you recognize it and probably relate to it. So drop the heels and pick up the hat and.......

        Signature

        Sal
        When the Roads and Paths end, learn to guide yourself through the wilderness
        Beyond the Path

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        • Originally Posted by HeySal View Post

          Oh holy shyte. I actually empathize with this. When did my sanity become so precariously balanced?

          Burn the corsets. The shoes, dear Princess, are for dancing. The hat is for real life. Ya know - well, I'm sure you recognize it and probably relate to it. So drop the heels and pick up the hat and.......

          https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1tj2zJ2Wvg
          Ha!

          This is my cool, inspirin' thought for the day, thanks, Sal.

          Gotta figure our sanity is always precariously balanced, poised on a needle tip.

          I do not believe this ever changes, we jus' kinda realise that what is underneath is also a needle tip.
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          Lightin' fuses is for blowin' stuff togethah.

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          • Profile picture of the author tagiscom
            Originally Posted by Princess Balestra View Post

            Ha!

            This is my cool, inspirin' thought for the day, thanks, Sal.

            Gotta figure our sanity is always precariously balanced, poised on a needle tip.

            I do not believe this ever changes, we jus' kinda realise that what is underneath is also a needle tip.
            So, far l have seen about three women trip recently because they had high heels on.

            Two on exculators. But l have grabbed an old guy falling down one of those recently, so an attractive woman will terrible shoes, falling into my arms wouldn't be so bad?

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            • Originally Posted by tagiscom View Post

              So, far l have seen about three women trip recently because they had high heels on.

              Two on exculators. But l have grabbed an old guy falling down one of those recently, so an attractive woman will terrible shoes, falling into my arms wouldn't be so bad?

              Old guys in heels are such a bummer.

              But, hey, I hope you get lucky today with some hapless gal.

              She is maybe blonde, 5' 8", curvaceous build, and she is out shoppin' for hair products when -- BAM -- she rolls over a heel an' stumbles.

              You spring forward, everyday Ozwear morphin' into a matchin' cape an' speedo affair, an' you throw out your aura-kissed arms to catch her.

              She gazes up at you, eyelids fluttering. "Why...thank you. If I had fallen to the ground I might have bruised my poor little leg or split the tube on my $39.99 shampoo." Her lips part, suggesting she has registered the swell of your manly biceps against her hourglass waitline. "What can I possibly do to repay you?"

              Ha!

              It is either that or you land the spinster desperado with the cleavage beard.

              Thing is, Taggo, I believe you to be a chivalrous person with a good heart, an' who knows, one day you gonna be the one to pluck an enchanted sword from a stone an' do cool stuff with it.

              Exculator!

              Blade of kings, weapon of the Gods, symbol of all that is noble!
              Signature

              Lightin' fuses is for blowin' stuff togethah.

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            • WF is postin' my stuff twice today like a mongrel pukin' while it poops.

              Jus' editin' to avoid repetition...

              Originally Posted by TimPhelan View Post

              The way he's holding that sword wouldn't exactly instill fear in an enemy either.
              Ha!

              It is like he is in an exotic eatery, pluckin' up courage to complain about a warped chopstick.
              Signature

              Lightin' fuses is for blowin' stuff togethah.

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              • Profile picture of the author tagiscom
                Originally Posted by Princess Balestra View Post

                Old guys in heels are such a bummer.

                But, hey, I hope you get lucky today with some hapless gal.

                She is maybe blonde, 5' 8", curvaceous build, and she is out shoppin' for hair products when -- BAM -- she rolls over a heel an' stumbles.

                You spring forward, everyday Ozwear morphin' into a matchin' cape an' speedo affair, an' you throw out your aura-kissed arms to catch her.

                She gazes up at you, eyelids fluttering. "Why...thank you. If I had fallen to the ground I might have bruised my poor little leg or split the tube on my $39.99 shampoo." Her lips part, suggesting she has registered the swell of your manly biceps against her hourglass waitline. "What can I possibly do to repay you?"

                Ha!

                It is either that or you land the spinster desperado with the cleavage beard.

                Thing is, Taggo, I believe you to be a chivalrous person with a good heart, an' who knows, one day you gonna be the one to pluck an enchanted sword from a stone an' do cool stuff with it.

                Exculator!

                Blade of kings, weapon of the Gods, symbol of all that is noble!
                LOL, sounds good!

                Sword, nah!

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  • Profile picture of the author nomaanali
    AMMM. i have no words.
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    • Profile picture of the author whateverpedia
      Originally Posted by nomaanali View Post

      AMMM. i have no words.
      Obviously you did have some words.
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      Why do garden gnomes smell so bad?
      So that blind people can hate them as well.
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