Revenge of the TLA

[klatukatt]

(OOC: There are too many 'serious' RPG's right now. We need something light and fluffy like a bunny.)

Ahem.

It was a day like any other day, which meant Miriam didn't know what would happen. She had been all over Middle Earth in many different ages, but things had been quiet for a while. All she had to deal with in the past month was talking a few kids out of wearing their Star Trek uniforms to school. But now, it was that time again, when the grass was green and the "elves" started coming out of hiding. She was sure a Tolkien addict was about to knock on her door...

Miriam: Come in.

Except for there was no one there. In a truely dramatic narrative, there would have been, but the sun outside was sifting a cool bright light onto the warm grass and no one wanted to be inside an office.
Miriam sat. No one knocked.

Miriam: What kind of narrative is this?

A good question. One that would not be answered, for as she sat staring out the window at the brilliant colors she realized why no one was knocking and decided to go outside herself.

Miriam: Why on earth do I still have this job when I could be outside?

(OOC: Before she can start running the hills and doing a Sound of Music rendition, can someone please stop her?)

[Green Rose]

LOL, are u still there? can I join?

[Butterbeer]

(OOC - stop her? ... no!)

Millie 'the moper' was ill named, for one she was madly happy with most things. The fact that she was pyschotically murderous on the few limited things she disliked will almost certainly never come into it.

Millie the moper was in fact rather a fan of the 'Sound of music' and besides the idea of Mirriam's lithe silky shapely legs running barefoot towards the mountains, petticoats swingly wildly in the as yet undisclosed and ill thought-out landscape(s) that the narrative plainly and lazily failed to consider .... sent her busom all a quiver ....

Millie knew that at any momment a Hobbit was likely to request a pot of tea ...


Millie: milk's off, come back tommorow ...


all was silent.

This was the kind of narrative you found in shady inner city boozas and liked to hang around the jukebox, making largesse hand gestures that even a wizard would not care to decipher...