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I dug up some o' Terry Pratchett's old plots and found them to be full of holes. Except for this one story about a motel, his Rest Inn piece.
Posts: 3056 | Registered: Jun 2001
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These remind me of my favorite ghost story. I hope you don't mind if I tell it. (Gee, what a boring sales meeting and a desire to get other things off ones mind will lead one to create).
A Truly Ghastly Ghost Story
He was a dark and stormy knight--or Sir Bob Eliz Punwit. He was full of anger and despair, not happy and gay like Sir Gal-I-Hadn't.
Perhaps it was because of his lack of height. He was not a tall night. Once, measured in his hunting attire instead of his bulky armor, the page said he was four foot even in his stalking feet.
Due to his short size he didn't ride a grand stallion like the others (ie, that overpriced Sir Charge everyone talks about). No, his horse was a large, overly hair, Russian Wolfhound named Bernard.
This combinations of midget knight and scruffy looking dog was usually an embarrasment to the King. He often refused to send this Sir Punwit out on adventures, saying "I wouldn't send a Knight out on a dog like this."
Today was different. The king rushed up to Sir Bob Eliz Punwit and gasped, "Good Sir, I need you."
"What is it." asked the dour knight.
"A great evil has sprung up to the east of my lands. It has sent messengers threatening our land. It must be destroyed."
"I am honored that you would send me, but what of the other, more favored knights."
"Alas, my friend," said the king "you are not the first knight I have sent on this quest. At first I sent Sir Ten The Unwaivering."
"What happened?"
"He rode out the gate, over the moat, across the fields, through the good wood, up the mountains, down the mountains, across the river, throught he dark woods, acorss the desolate plain, up to the dark castle, through the dark gate, and has not returned."
"Dreadful." said our hero.
"The I sent Sir Rammec The Hard."
"What happened?"
"He rode out the gate, over the moat, across the fields, through the good wood, up the mountains, down the mountains, across the river, throught he dark woods, acorss the desolate plain, up to the dark castle, through the dark gate, and has not returned."
"Sir Ramec gone? I'm shattered."
"Then I sent Sir C'm Size The Hebrew Knight"
"What happened?"
"He rode out the gate, over the moat, across the fields, through the good wood, up the mountains, down the mountains, across the river, throught he dark woods, acorss the desolate plain, up to the dark castle, through the dark gate, and has not returned."
"Sir C'm Sized too? Ouch."
I could go on filling this page with the other knights sent, and what befell them (and when you retell this story, do so.) There was Sir Cut The Wired, Sir Vent The Dutiful, Ser Mon the Preachy, all vanished.
There was Sir Render The Not So Brave, Sir Prize the Unexpected, Ser Pent the Scaley, Sir Acuse the new York Knight, all gone.
There was Sir Vey Lance the All Seeing, Sir Vi Val the Enduring, Sir C'm France the Rotound, Sir Lee the Grumpy, Sir Cus the Showey, Sir Face the Shallow all destroyed by the dark presence in the dark tower.
There was Sir Plus the Excessive, Sir Real the Very Strange, Sir Passe of the Extra Effort, and Sir Rown Dred The Beseiged. Each rode to the dark castle and is no more.
"That is why I've come to you my smallest knight. You are all that is left to destroy this evil."
Sir Bob Eliz Punwit shook his head. He grabbed his sword and his lance and saddled Bernard. This strange knight took up the cause.
He rode out the gate, over the moat, across the fields, through the good wood, up the mountains, down the mountains, across the river, throught he dark woods, acorss the desolate plain, up to the dark castle, through the dark gate, and has not returned.
He entered the dark castle where an eery voice called out, "Come to me."
He dismounted his dog and followed the voice. He went into the palace, up the stairs, to the right, up the stairs, to the left, up the stairs, to the right and entered the dark room.
Four lone candles lit the dark room from where the voice had come. The only thing in the room was an old large coffin. Sir B.E.P turned his back on the coffin to search the room, as each of the other knights had done in the past.
This is what the coffin was waiting for. Silently eerie rotting legs popped out of the bottom, and clowed scaley arms popped out of the side of the coffin. It rose up and moved toward our diminuative paladin. The coffin gaped open, revealing an entrance to the nether regions. Demons waited. Slowly it approached.
Yet the coffin could not resist. Before it enclosed Sir Bob. in its demonic confines, it could not resist. It said, "Gee, it must be spring, for the knights are certainly getting shorter."
Sir Bob turned, slashing at the coffin with his great sword. It broke.
Weaponless, facing a demonic thing, Sir Bob did the only thing he could. He ran.
Down the hall to the left, down the steps and to the right, down the steps and too the left, out our the palace to Bernard.
The Coffin followed, calling him to his demise.
Bernard raced out the dark castle, and raced even farther east, leading this evil coffin far from his king.
Still the coffin followed.
For four days the raced across the lands.
Still the coffin followed.
Finally, reaching the high cliffs overlooking the sea, Sir Bob stopped. There was nowhere left to run. Still the coffin followed.
"Farewell Bernard." he said as he dismounted and prepared to meet his doom.
"Ahem" said Bernard. The dog, who was a magical beast, reached into its fur and pulled out a small package.
Sir Bob read the outside and smiled. He opened it and took out a small red cube.
A the coffin approached, laughing a sinsiter laugh, Sir Bob took the small cube and threw it into the gaping jaws of the coffin.
The coffin froze. Too this day, it stands on the cliff, frozen in place.
What was the small red cube that Bernard had? Well, it was a Halls Menthyliptus Cough Drop. Read the package. It guarantees to stop any cough'n.
Now some may think this is inappropriate for our theme of Ghost storyies. Although the coffin is ghostly enough, Sir Bob is a knight. (And one must not tell Ghost Stories at Knight, they will give you nightmares). However, I believe that this story is neither a Knightly Tale or a Ghost Story. After all, the true hero is Bernard. Hence, you will all agree, this was one true "Shaggy Dog Story."
posted
Oh, Dan, your very long joke made me remember the cold i have. I think I had better go and make some lemem balm tea.
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I heard a similar story but it was about Sir Ching the Seeker and his beautiful female horse, and it truly was a knight mare.
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I just handed my term paper to professor Mortimor, and he took one look at it, then told me to do it again. I'm not too bummed, though - I should have expected it. He's full of rigor, Mort is.
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Actually, the ones who really scare me are the evil henchmen. I guess you could say I'm an Igoraphobic.
I Hyde from them, those hounds in jeckel's clothing. And usually I can be found whimpering "I want my mummy." Sometimes I wish I was just invisible, man! Or that I could be a fly on the wall. Mainly I just want to be moving.
Oh, and Dan, this reminds me of the death of my most favorite of the great do gooders, Sir Jury, Knight of the living...dead. He was knifed.
Finally, I'd like to tell you all about my betrothed and how I plan to take her on a cruise. She's the belle I'll lug asea.
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I thought he says, "Whoopi Goldberg, I need you to help me get in touch with Demi Moore. Oh, and ditto."
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What is up with this thread, Bob? You promised us some sort of ending, yet it is living forever, with no prize in sight. What poo poo this is. It's like a seventh level offal.
[ April 24, 2004, 11:48 AM: Message edited by: Elizabeth ]
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There were quite a few skeletons in the tent closets. It was a long, strange trip, but really only a ripple in time. We kept on truckin, though, and we put out the fire on the mountain. My estimated prophet for the event was set in a great deal with a guy whose hair was black, Peter I think his name was.
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