So how is everyone doing?

[Loony BoB]

She didn't, you obviously just spent most of your time chatting with her instead of posting with her.

I don't know much about this YMCA parody (not as much as I'd like to know, that's for sure) but my fondest memories of Nait are his stories and lore regarding EoFF characters. I think I remember a certain tale regarding Bleys and ...was it Raistlin? Anyway, it was all kinds of raunchy...

EDIT: Also...

To Forgive.

A word in the english language. A word, or idiom, found probably in every human language on Earth. Antaa anteeksi, att förlåta.

As our saviour Britt stepped down from the Mount Gurugurutsikapovaaaaing, he brought us the message of Shut The smurf Up Before I Make You Hurt Real Much. But he also brought the message of It Is The Final Decision And Nothing Will Budge Us From Unhurting. And he also brought the message of He Stays Hurt. And so forth and so forth. Now, let's read a paragraph from the Edible.

Book of Kishi: 3:
14:
Thus did the apprentice Murder lap-pour His coffee.
15:
And he asked forgiveness on his knees, and he wailed, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me.
16:
And He stood up in his divine glory, and the stains disappeared from his cloak, and his face bore the wrath of the High Heavens and his eyed burned with holy ire.
17:
And he opened his mouth and the white flames of the purifying rivers of Paradise B sprout forth, and the earth shook, and the skies were ablaze.
18: And the seas rose and sunk, and the trees grew abnormally fast, and the trouts swam in discord, and the sausages popped, and the medical closets all over the world opened, and the angels wailed, and the daemons cowered, and the cows mooed, and the bird didn't give a damn, and the houses danced, though slowly, and people shouted out to their Gods saying, Oh, help us, oh he's not going to help us, oh gods, we're smurfed.
19: And He spake, saying: That's OK.
20: And everyone breathed again.
21: All expect he who was called apprentice Murder and who passed out.

Now, let us pray.

Dear Sean, who art up there somewhere, I dunno, probably, if you are not drunk,
Hear our prayers and sooth the heart of those who are in guilt, and those who are in pain of heart. Hear our prayers and bring forth the bonds of forgiveness you gave us last month, because we really, really need them. Oh, and BOU asked for a lottery-win. And BoB wants a new car. But that's about it. And say hi to missus Sean, and tell her we enjoyed her gingerbreads very much. And try to stay outta the spirits for just a little while, eh? Amen.

Pee Ess: I could really use some Old Bearhugger, if you catch my drift, eh, eh.

EDIT: Found some more gold!

It was a warm and sunny spring-day. The snow had just melted, and the rivers were running wild with their new, cold blood.
And here I was, inside in the darkest, dreariest hovel imaginable - a house downtown Eyeson. Correction - a murder scene downtown Eyeson.
I glanced at Dan. "Yikes."
   "Yikes indeed," he answered.
I returned my look back to the sordid view before us. Two bodies, one male in red robes, wearing a golden mask and a long, white wig, one female wearing a Soviet-era uniform and a fake walrus-moustache, arranged in the choreography of love. A choreography paralysed by violent death.
Kinky.
   "Gives a whole new meaning to 'rigor mortis', doesn't it?" I tried to lighten the mood.
Dan just looked at me.
   "The male is Wesley Ruston, 26 year old school-buss driver, lived on Main Street with his mother. The woman is Sheba Mountleigh, 24 years old, married, lived here. Her husband has been out of town for a week, and found them like this this morning."
"They were shot at close range with an old Colt, no fingerprints. A day or three old, we'll have to wait for the lab."
   "Hmmm," I hmmed. "Witnesses?"
   "The neighbours heard nothing."
   "Tricky," I concluded. "The hubby's alibi?"
   "Drinking-binge, followed by off-road driving and a day of sitting in the jail to sleep it off."
   "Tricky..." I repeated.
I looked around at the bustling and hustling CSI. "Outside?"
   "Right."
As we got out of the stinking apartment, I stared at the sky as Dan lit a cigar.
   "Your wife'll go berserk."
   "She'll survive."
I shook my head at him.
   "So..." he said after a moment. "Any ideas?"
   "None whatsoever."
   "Tsk. Too bad." He blew a smoke-ring.
   "I wonder..."
   "What?"
   "Who's going to pry them apart?" I said as I picked out a handkerchief and blew my nose in it.
   "Oh shut up."

To Be Continued.