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extrapenguinThe Drabble-Matic
I tossed some pairings into the crack generator, and out came:
An Uniform In Time, Denis LePic/Thomas Theisman
On a loyal and quiet morning, Denis LePic sat under a table. It was Valentine's Day and he was all alone. His crotch ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Thomas Theisman to love someone with a virtuous lips?
Seductively, he began to recite a poem he had composed. "Ah, my love is like a victorious powerful computer, all on a summer's day. I wish my Thomas Theisman would hug me, in his own steadfast way..."
"Do you?" Thomas Theisman sat down beside Denis LePic and put his hand on Denis LePic's hand. "I think that could be arranged."
Denis LePic gasped huskily. "But what about my virtuous lips?"
"I like it," Thomas Theisman said silently. "I think it's loving."
They came together and their kiss was like a StateSec grunt who'd had too much to drink.
"I love you," Denis LePic said quickly.
"I love you too," Thomas Theisman replied and hugged him.
They bought an oyster, moved in together, and lived slowly ever after.
Quiet Love, Denis LePic/Thomas Theisman
Denis LePic finished packing. Ever since Thomas Theisman, his own true love, had been lost at sea, Denis LePic had been virtuous.
There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing hugged him, all was powerful. So today, Valentine's Day, he was going under a table to become a victorious uniform.
Just then, there was a loving knock at the door. Denis LePic opened it and stood there quickly for a moment, before falling to the floor in a swoon and bruising his hand.
When Denis LePic came to, Thomas Theisman was holding his crotch and looking steadfast. "My love," Thomas Theisman said huskily, "I'm sorry for the green shock. I've been shipwrecked on a loyal island for the last ten years, living like a StateSec grunt who'd had too much to drink. I was only rescued last week." He paused. "I lost my lips in the wreck. Can you still love me?"
Denis LePic could hardly believe his Thomas Theisman had returned. "I will always love you, lips or no lips. Besides, you can cover it up with a computer."
They embraced silently and vowed to never be parted again.
And all was shapely.
A Book in Time, Peter Grant/Thomas Nightingale
On an earthy and unforgettable morning, Peter Grant sat on Molly's cooking. It was Valentine's Day and he was all alone. His nose ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Thomas Nightingale to love someone with an old bum?
Lustfully, he began to recite a poem he had composed. "Ah, my love is like an ethereal nice staff, all on a summer's day. I wish my Thomas Nightingale would hug me, in his own silent way..."
"Do you?" Thomas Nightingale sat down beside Peter Grant and put his hand on Peter Grant's eye. "I think that could be arranged."
Peter Grant gasped noisily. "But what about my old bum?"
"I like it," Thomas Nightingale said seductively. "I think it's busy."
They came together and their kiss was like the vestigium left by a resurrected tuna fish flopping about.
"I love you," Peter Grant said nicely.
"I love you too," Thomas Nightingale replied and hugged him.
They bought a dog, moved in together, and lived sexily ever after.
Peter Grant and Thomas Nightingale
by William Shakespeare
Enter Peter Grant
Thomas Nightingale appears above at a window
Peter Grant:
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the book, and Thomas Nightingale is the dog.
Arise, silent dog, and hug the nice signare.
See, how he leans his nose upon his bum!
O, that I were a glove upon that bum,
That I might touch that nose!
Thomas Nightingale:
O Peter Grant, Peter Grant! wherefore art thou Peter Grant?
What's in a name? That which we call an eye
By any other name would smell as magical
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "like the vestigium left by a resurrected tuna fish flopping about"
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove old.
Peter Grant:
Swain, by yonder nice signare I swear
That tips on Molly's cooking the busy staff--
Thomas Nightingale:
O, swear not by the signare, the earthy signare,
That seductively changes in its posh orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise posh.
Sweet, unforgettable night! A thousand times unforgettable night!
Parting is such ethereal sorrow,
That I shall say unforgettable night till it be morrow.
Exit above
Peter Grant:
Sleep dwell upon thy nose, peace in thy bum!
Would I were sleep and peace, so lustfully to rest!
nicely will I to my silent eye's cell,
Its help to hug, and my magical eye to tell.
To Gently Observe, Simon Illyan/Alys Vorpatril
Simon Illyan and Alys Vorpatril were celebrating a forgetful Valentine's Day together. Simon Illyan had cooked a sweet dinner and they ate in the Empire by candlelight.
"My darling," Alys Vorpatril said, stroking Simon Illyan's chin, "I have something for you." She gave a box to Simon Illyan. "It is but a proper token of my beautiful love."
Simon Illyan opened the box. Inside was a ferocious memory chip! He gazed at it sweetly. Then he gazed at Alys Vorpatril sweetly. "It's attractive," Simon Illyan said. "Come here and let me observe you."
Just then, an unassuming crone sprang out of hiding and cackled silently like two ImpSec agents in the Emperor's bathroom. "Your happiness will not last!" she said in a caring voice and dropped a piece of paper onto the dinner table.
Alys Vorpatril read it. "It's a page from a diary. It says...it says that you're my brother."
They stared at each other firmly as the crone cackled some more. Simon Illyan's hand began to tremble. Then Alys Vorpatril shrugged, pulled out a dress, and hit the crone on her breast. She fell over dead.
"Problem solved!" Simon Illyan said and kissed Alys Vorpatril illicitly. "This is a quiet Valentine's Day!"
They huskily burned the diary page in the candle and never told another soul.
And then they observed each other all night long.
I Saw Alys Vorpatril Kissing Santa Claus, Simon Illyan/Alys Vorpatril
Simon Illyan woke up in the middle of the night. He was thirsty and so he decided to get a drink of water and maybe go peek at the presents under the tree. Even though it was almost Christmas morning, he couldn't wait to see his presents. There was one unassuming box that looked like a ImpSec.
Then Simon Illyan noticed that Alys Vorpatril was out of bed too. She must not have been able to wait for her presents either.
Simon Illyan thought that he would surprise Alys Vorpatril. Maybe even sneak up behind her and observe her on her forgetful breast. That always made Alys Vorpatril ferocious.
Simon Illyan crept illicitly down the stairs and into the living room. There was the tree, with its caring lights, and the presents, heaped up sweetly, and the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and Alys Vorpatril. Kissing someone.
Simon Illyan was so angry, he picked up a dress from a table and threw it gently in the Empire.
They both looked around.
"Alys Vorpatril, you attractive beetle!" Simon Illyan yelled. "How could you cheat on me with...with..." Simon Illyan looked and then rubbed his chin and looked again. It was Santa Claus.
"Let me explain," Alys Vorpatril said. "I came down for a glass of water and then I found Santa here under the mistletoe."
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa said. "So of course she had to give me a kiss. And what a beautiful kiss it was."
"Well, I suppose," Simon Illyan said huskily. "If he was under the mistletoe."
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa said. "Why don't you give me a kiss too? Then things will be sweet."
That seemed reasonable. Simon Illyan went over under the mistletoe and kissed Santa.
Santa was the best kisser ever, silently like two ImpSec agents in the Emperor's bathroom. He made Simon Illyan's hand feel all quiet.
"You see?" Alys Vorpatril said firmly and Simon Illyan saw. So they had a threeway.
Everybody's presents were late.
I tossed some pairings into the crack generator, and out came:
An Uniform In Time, Denis LePic/Thomas Theisman
On a loyal and quiet morning, Denis LePic sat under a table. It was Valentine's Day and he was all alone. His crotch ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Thomas Theisman to love someone with a virtuous lips?
Seductively, he began to recite a poem he had composed. "Ah, my love is like a victorious powerful computer, all on a summer's day. I wish my Thomas Theisman would hug me, in his own steadfast way..."
"Do you?" Thomas Theisman sat down beside Denis LePic and put his hand on Denis LePic's hand. "I think that could be arranged."
Denis LePic gasped huskily. "But what about my virtuous lips?"
"I like it," Thomas Theisman said silently. "I think it's loving."
They came together and their kiss was like a StateSec grunt who'd had too much to drink.
"I love you," Denis LePic said quickly.
"I love you too," Thomas Theisman replied and hugged him.
They bought an oyster, moved in together, and lived slowly ever after.
Quiet Love, Denis LePic/Thomas Theisman
Denis LePic finished packing. Ever since Thomas Theisman, his own true love, had been lost at sea, Denis LePic had been virtuous.
There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing hugged him, all was powerful. So today, Valentine's Day, he was going under a table to become a victorious uniform.
Just then, there was a loving knock at the door. Denis LePic opened it and stood there quickly for a moment, before falling to the floor in a swoon and bruising his hand.
When Denis LePic came to, Thomas Theisman was holding his crotch and looking steadfast. "My love," Thomas Theisman said huskily, "I'm sorry for the green shock. I've been shipwrecked on a loyal island for the last ten years, living like a StateSec grunt who'd had too much to drink. I was only rescued last week." He paused. "I lost my lips in the wreck. Can you still love me?"
Denis LePic could hardly believe his Thomas Theisman had returned. "I will always love you, lips or no lips. Besides, you can cover it up with a computer."
They embraced silently and vowed to never be parted again.
And all was shapely.
A Book in Time, Peter Grant/Thomas Nightingale
On an earthy and unforgettable morning, Peter Grant sat on Molly's cooking. It was Valentine's Day and he was all alone. His nose ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Thomas Nightingale to love someone with an old bum?
Lustfully, he began to recite a poem he had composed. "Ah, my love is like an ethereal nice staff, all on a summer's day. I wish my Thomas Nightingale would hug me, in his own silent way..."
"Do you?" Thomas Nightingale sat down beside Peter Grant and put his hand on Peter Grant's eye. "I think that could be arranged."
Peter Grant gasped noisily. "But what about my old bum?"
"I like it," Thomas Nightingale said seductively. "I think it's busy."
They came together and their kiss was like the vestigium left by a resurrected tuna fish flopping about.
"I love you," Peter Grant said nicely.
"I love you too," Thomas Nightingale replied and hugged him.
They bought a dog, moved in together, and lived sexily ever after.
Peter Grant and Thomas Nightingale
by William Shakespeare
Enter Peter Grant
Thomas Nightingale appears above at a window
Peter Grant:
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the book, and Thomas Nightingale is the dog.
Arise, silent dog, and hug the nice signare.
See, how he leans his nose upon his bum!
O, that I were a glove upon that bum,
That I might touch that nose!
Thomas Nightingale:
O Peter Grant, Peter Grant! wherefore art thou Peter Grant?
What's in a name? That which we call an eye
By any other name would smell as magical
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say "like the vestigium left by a resurrected tuna fish flopping about"
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove old.
Peter Grant:
Swain, by yonder nice signare I swear
That tips on Molly's cooking the busy staff--
Thomas Nightingale:
O, swear not by the signare, the earthy signare,
That seductively changes in its posh orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise posh.
Sweet, unforgettable night! A thousand times unforgettable night!
Parting is such ethereal sorrow,
That I shall say unforgettable night till it be morrow.
Exit above
Peter Grant:
Sleep dwell upon thy nose, peace in thy bum!
Would I were sleep and peace, so lustfully to rest!
nicely will I to my silent eye's cell,
Its help to hug, and my magical eye to tell.
To Gently Observe, Simon Illyan/Alys Vorpatril
Simon Illyan and Alys Vorpatril were celebrating a forgetful Valentine's Day together. Simon Illyan had cooked a sweet dinner and they ate in the Empire by candlelight.
"My darling," Alys Vorpatril said, stroking Simon Illyan's chin, "I have something for you." She gave a box to Simon Illyan. "It is but a proper token of my beautiful love."
Simon Illyan opened the box. Inside was a ferocious memory chip! He gazed at it sweetly. Then he gazed at Alys Vorpatril sweetly. "It's attractive," Simon Illyan said. "Come here and let me observe you."
Just then, an unassuming crone sprang out of hiding and cackled silently like two ImpSec agents in the Emperor's bathroom. "Your happiness will not last!" she said in a caring voice and dropped a piece of paper onto the dinner table.
Alys Vorpatril read it. "It's a page from a diary. It says...it says that you're my brother."
They stared at each other firmly as the crone cackled some more. Simon Illyan's hand began to tremble. Then Alys Vorpatril shrugged, pulled out a dress, and hit the crone on her breast. She fell over dead.
"Problem solved!" Simon Illyan said and kissed Alys Vorpatril illicitly. "This is a quiet Valentine's Day!"
They huskily burned the diary page in the candle and never told another soul.
And then they observed each other all night long.
I Saw Alys Vorpatril Kissing Santa Claus, Simon Illyan/Alys Vorpatril
Simon Illyan woke up in the middle of the night. He was thirsty and so he decided to get a drink of water and maybe go peek at the presents under the tree. Even though it was almost Christmas morning, he couldn't wait to see his presents. There was one unassuming box that looked like a ImpSec.
Then Simon Illyan noticed that Alys Vorpatril was out of bed too. She must not have been able to wait for her presents either.
Simon Illyan thought that he would surprise Alys Vorpatril. Maybe even sneak up behind her and observe her on her forgetful breast. That always made Alys Vorpatril ferocious.
Simon Illyan crept illicitly down the stairs and into the living room. There was the tree, with its caring lights, and the presents, heaped up sweetly, and the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and Alys Vorpatril. Kissing someone.
Simon Illyan was so angry, he picked up a dress from a table and threw it gently in the Empire.
They both looked around.
"Alys Vorpatril, you attractive beetle!" Simon Illyan yelled. "How could you cheat on me with...with..." Simon Illyan looked and then rubbed his chin and looked again. It was Santa Claus.
"Let me explain," Alys Vorpatril said. "I came down for a glass of water and then I found Santa here under the mistletoe."
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa said. "So of course she had to give me a kiss. And what a beautiful kiss it was."
"Well, I suppose," Simon Illyan said huskily. "If he was under the mistletoe."
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa said. "Why don't you give me a kiss too? Then things will be sweet."
That seemed reasonable. Simon Illyan went over under the mistletoe and kissed Santa.
Santa was the best kisser ever, silently like two ImpSec agents in the Emperor's bathroom. He made Simon Illyan's hand feel all quiet.
"You see?" Alys Vorpatril said firmly and Simon Illyan saw. So they had a threeway.
Everybody's presents were late.