Where oh Where has the good Rev. Gone?

[Irreverend Hugh, KSC]

I miss Rog.

And I'm having withdrawals from the cranium goodness.

Come back, Rog!

Why?

So you can viciously nibble on his head?

[EraPassing]

I miss Rog.

And I'm having withdrawals from the cranium goodness.

Come back, Rog!

Why?

So you can viciously nibble on his head?

Well, yeah.  Duh.

Jeezus, Hugh, c'mon.

[Wishfarple]

In answer to this puzzling query:
Our Roger is now in a place of reknown,
That home to the mutant, the ugly, the weary,
Save a spot for me, Rog, in that grand old Dobbstown!

O Dobbstown!  That wondrous, magical land!
Fropped up to the gills, he grins like a boob,
No mere-humes to haunt him, not those he can't stand,
Unless it's for pleasure (and forget about the lube).  

Yes, Roger is merry, his cares are forgotten,
He capers about in a half-conscious trance,
Stops just for a moment, to thank "Bob" he got in,
Then scampers off grinning, waving his lance.

We ask only, Dear Reverend, that you not come back dead,
For who would dine on a cadaverous head?

[saint aini]

Death is too good for Rog.

It's too much freedom.

[EraPassing]

*unerringly fires anti-fae napalm at aini*

[saint aini]

**returns the napalm**
**lights a match**
**drops it on erapassing**
**roasts marshmellow over EraPassing**
**eats marshmellow**
**flits away to read Hamlet**

[EraPassing]

You know what you remind me of, aini?

You remind me of that kid on the block that everyone hated playing with, because when you played Cowboys and Indians with that kid, or Cops and Robbers, or whatever, and pointed your finger at the kid and went Blam Blam Blam! that kid always failed to fall down and just fucking die like someone who wasn't a cheater and a puss.
That kid never had any friends, and really, you couldn't blame the other kids for not wanting to play with him, or invite him to birthday parties, and stuff.

Stop being that kid, aini.

[~~~~Closed~~~~]

You know what you remind me of, aini?

You remind me of that kid on the block that everyone hated playing with, because when you played Cowboys and Indians with that kid, or Cops and Robbers, or whatever, and pointed your finger at the kid and went Blam Blam Blam! that kid always failed to fall down and just fucking die like someone who wasn't a cheater and a puss.
That kid never had any friends, and really, you couldn't blame the other kids for not wanting to play with him, or invite him to birthday parties, and stuff.

Stop being that kid, aini.

bingo!

[saint aini]

am not...

[Wishfarple]

Haha!  

Well played.

[EraPassing]

am not...

The eternal comeback for That Kid whenever someone accuses him of cheating, because he's dead, dammit:  "Am not!"

I'll bet everyone can hear that whining voice in your head right now, can't yall?  "Am not!"

[saint aini]

I'll just go wander off with a gnome...

[EraPassing]

I'll just go wander off with a gnome...

And what does that translate to?

"I'm not playing with you guys anymore!"

You can still hear That Kid's whining voice, and mentally picture him stomping off in a huff, because the other kids are "mean" for insisting that he play by the rules of the game...

[saint aini]

There are no rules.

[EraPassing]

There are no rules.

That Kid's eternal justification for not falling down even after he's been Blam!Blam!Blam!ed at point blank.