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Tanja's Slave - Priscellie's Livejournal
October 2012
Mon, Sep. 2nd, 2002 03:18 pm
Tanja's Slave

Blogger is being evil and not letting me post/publish randomly, so I resort to my LiveJournal. Yay.

Super-congrats to Britt for being cool and winning the "Tanja's Slave For a While" contest! ::waves flags:: Your layouts are always gorgeous, I can't wait to see the finished product.

Name: Priscilla Spencer-Suhinina-Weasley-Black

Contact Info:
Email: priscilla@theninemuses.net
Y!M: spockmonkey4
Smoke Signal Hut #42

Site URLs:
TheNineMuses.net -- http://www.theninemuses.net/
Hockaday JETS -- http://www.theninemuses.net/jets/
What's In a Name? -- http://www.theninemuses.net/hp/
Cult of Lincoln -- http://www.theninemuses.net/log/

Starving Children:
Little Becky Two-Shoes and Hot Blades Harry you can have for a quarter. I'm keeping Robbie the Stockfish for tax purposes.

For the past several months, I slept fitfully, waking from perplexing dreams of murder, chaos, and confusion. I was haunted by visions of the long dead, who tormented me with their tantalizing wordplay, speaking riddles I dared not solve.
I lost sight of who I was, oh my brothers. I no longer knew who I was or where I was going or how many fingers the nice millicent was holding up or which one, for that matter. Dreams blended into reality until I was never certain of whether I was sleeping or awake. Then one night, I went in to a TGIFridays in the shady side of town, dressed in the heighth of fashion, when I viddied a young devotchka dolled up real horrorshow. She sat on the other side of the room, smecking about with some starry old veck. I couldn't quite slooshy what they were govoretting on about, so I turned back to my chai. But when I turned back, she was gone. And beyond the walls, I could see them. Starry old baboochkas, rots dangling open, waving their shapeless rookers at me as I huddled close to the bar, pleading and trying to wake up. They reached toward your humble narrator, screeching horrible, when I felt a weight on my pletcho, or shoulder. There was the ptitsa I had viddied earlier, a bolshy great smile on her rot. She grabbed my rooker in hers, and I found myself in another room.
Enormous piles of t-shirts were massed in unending piles, threatening to collapse and flood the world in cotton-y doom. I glance down and observed my attractive "Percy is God and Boba Fett" shirt with a smile. I walked around the stacks of shirts, which quickly formed themselves into a maze. I started to run, but the faster I ran, the more futile my escape felt. Eventually I collapsed at the base of a LHFCXDE column, unable to go on. My eyes darted from place to place as I strained to see where the voices were coming from. Feeble whispers floated up into my consciousness, uttering incomprehensible phrases that grated on my brain like sandpaper. "ENOUGH!" I cried, sobbing into a sea of Communist stars. And then movement caught my eye. The girl was back, shimmering in red-gold strass stones, "EVEL" emblazoned on her chest. "Make it stop!" I screamed hoarsely. She laughed at me, pink hair sailing around her face as she shook her head, then reached for the nearest pile of shirts. I barely had time to register the words "Hoopy Frood" before the stack collapsed on top of me. But I did not snuff it. No, instead of dying, I felt whole again. Cleansed. A bright light shone inside me, and its name was not Marla. I felt a surge of Capitalism. "The world must know this joy!" I shouted. "All must know the ecstasy inherent in this deluge of polyesterish goodness!" I laughed for the first time in millenia, dancing in a snow of pixels that lasted forever. And when I opened my eyes, my laptop was there. A screen met my delirious gaze. "Yes, yes!" I squealed in delight, whipping out my mouse and keyboard and typing a storm of letters that pirouetted across my email window. Fate had decreed it. Was I to be the designer for Swussian Capitalist's new layout? Indeed it could be. I wait for Tanja to decide.

References yoinked from HHGTG, A Clockwork Orange, Fight Club, and Urinetown. I am a freak.

Current Mood: chipper chipper
Current Music: Orchestral Finale, Dido and Aeneas


Roonil Wazlib
Mon, Sep. 2nd, 2002 01:31 pm (UTC)

LMAO. You're brilliant. Mine was just ... Average:

Name: Brittany (Britt)
E-Mail: britt@alohomora.nu
URL(s): http://alohomora.nu, http://parvati.livejournal.com, http://hogwarty.alohomora.nu (NOTE: The last two were ::ahem:: thrown together in under and hour, so ...)
Why: I hate schoolwork. If I insist to my mother that I'm helping to save the world by giving them a pretty shirt shop to look at, I can do that instead. I'll also get a free shirt, and well, that's always nice to have. I also go to a Catholic school and nothing screams 'I'M COOLER THAN YOU' like an 'EVEL' or 'Percy is God and Boba Fett' across your chest. As far as starving children go, I had to sell them all to the carnival folk at the fair to keep myself from going hungry as well.

And that's really about it. Entertain me.

Priscellie is much more creative than I. ::mopes::

Your Own Personal Jesus
Mon, Sep. 2nd, 2002 04:01 pm (UTC)

XD That is the strangest, funniest thing I have read in quite a while.