ANST - (Fwd) Santa Viagra (When a girl goes from bobby socks...

[j'lynn yeates]

in response to several public and private requests for *more* in the saga of Santa 
Viagra .. the next channeled installment has been recived and is passed into the 
relevent information channes ... 

'wolf
... in service to chaos



to duct tape, is she old enough to give her favor away?)
Herstory of Santa Viagra

Scullery Grayway grew in stature and matured much more quickly than her
school mates. Some, regarding this,  praised the Lord, others killed those
who praised the Lord, still others flamed those who had any opinion upon
the matter. Amen.

We have already heard how she had armed and armored herself in the convent
school, Our Lady of the Asteroids. You may also remember how she startled
the parents with her performance of "She was a Senechal's Daughter" and
"Come On, Viking, Light My Fire!"  Yes, Grayway had many and diverse
interests in the Kurrent Mickle Ages (the second D is aspirated). She was
even specially noticed by the Duchess Natasha at a court in Bjornsburg and
there was talk about a Laurel in the offing. Sadly, that never happened.

Scullery fell in with a bad lot. She "chipped into" heraldry. I know you
may be thinking, "What is he saying? Heralds are wonderful folk! They are
helpful to a fault." True. And know you that I mean no disparagement or
slight to those brave and kind folk in tabards. The sort of heralds that
Scullery met were bad heralds. These heralds were obdurate and
stiff-necked, know a-lot-and-you-don't sort of heralds. Remember, Milords
and Ladies, this was long ago. Most of these heralds are gone by now.

It started out innocently enough but took a sinister bend. Barry, a chief
with long dark vair, was trying to get his Harley Electroglide along with
a portrait of it running over his mother's dachshund onto his arms.
Scullery was innocently trying to help him, sort of bezant. Bikers, the
modern equivalent to Mongols, can be a base lot. Though she tried to pile
everything upon his escutcheon, it could never be said to be purpure or
proper. She thought he would fess up to his semy ways. She was gules and
he had her hooked like a mullet. And though she believed he would never a
saltire, love started to pale and she got hurt. One sable night as she was
riding on the pillion behind Barry, she waved and he dumped her in a
fountain. She pulled her head in just like a torteau. 

But I digress. I cant go on.

(coming soon, A Young Torturer's Handbook or 'Twill Go Hard on You)



... When we hunt, we all function with one mind
... - Boingo, Pedestrian Wolves
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