Is Roswell male or female? (and what about Hennepin?)
i am the only guy in the house.
One morning Roswell was at her usual post, gallantly protecting all who lay sleeping within the manor, when she saw something so gorgeous, so astonishing, she could not believe her eyeballs.
It was a cat. At least it seemed like a cat. In fact from the belly up it was damn near the most wondrous (and wondrously hot) cat Roswell had ever seen. He was black and white, with a perfectly shaped head and ears pointing straight to heaven.
And yet, from the belly down…. Well. Rather than having a luxurious set of hind legs and a tail that curved like a come-hither smile, this cat had… fins. Long green sparkling scaly fins, trailing down to the ground like a skirt so fashionable even Ms Trillian Stars would have worn it. But in a totally hot, masculine kind of way, of course.
But how could this mer-cat walk at all, especially in West Philadelphia?
He was not walking, she realized then. He was gliding. And as he glided, his mer-cat hips swayed back and forth, back and forth John Travolta style, in time with Roswell’s heart.
Instantly, she was in love.
In the room behind Roswell, Hennepin rolled her eyes. Roswell was always falling for the wrong dudes, she thought. Figures she’d go for this flashy, tacky mer-cat being chased by some sort of sea devil. Probably got the sea devil’s wife pregnant, Hennepin thought.
It was at that moment that Roswell was able to tear her eyeballs away from the mer-cat and see the sea devil for herself. She gasped, all her aesthetic sensibilities assaulted at once. Not even in West Philadelphia had she ever seen so much lack of fashion on one creature.
But as I am already almost to 300 words, you will have to imagine such an atrocity for yourself.
Without hesitation, Roswell leapt through the window, which shattered glamorously behind her in a gentle spray of glass. As she began racing toward the sea devil, she realized that she was suddenly underwater! Who knew I could run so gracefully underwater, she thought, and that I could breathe underwater, too, with no problem!
Luckily for her, and for the mer-cat, and for love generally, she was able to have this many realizations while also chasing the devil.
What love makes us capable of!
And that brings us to the end of this romantic tale.
Roswell caught the sea devil in her bow-shaped mouth, and immediately the sea devil transformed into a giant red sea rose, which Roswell held out to the mer-cat, who was now gliding towards her, his big black eyes full of love and desire…..
a story about roswell in love for the win!!!!! :)
NFG is going to twitter it.
... just when I was about to leave for work... now, I want to stay home and write! hehe
2009-08-12 02:13 pm (UTC)
My attempt at a submission
How this had happened, no one knew. They had lived a peaceful existence with no interruptions for as long as Kylosidy could remember. They were a peaceful people. Intruders had never been a worry for them until now. The strange being that had come to visit them was unlike anything any of them had ever seen. It was covered in fur and had ears on top of its head and a long skinny tail that didn’t seem to help it swim at all.
When the being would not leave he sent his best men out to see if it was dangerous or just curious. As they approached they noticed something hanging around the being’s neck. One of the brave mermen went forward, approaching the furry thing with care. When he got close enough to touch it and nothing had happened, he reached out. A sound came out of the being that made the water all around them vibrate. He grabbed the thing around its neck and quickly moved back to safety.
The letter was addressed to Kylosidy in their own native Merrish language. They waved the being forward, enticing it to follow them back. They needed to get the letter to their leader as quickly as possible to find out what this being was and why it was there.
The letter was quickly delivered and Kylosidy was seen smiling as he read. “It is a letter from my brother up above. He has sent us this cat named Roswell. It is his closest companion and he wanted Roswell to experience the life down here with us for a while.” He laughed again as he waved the animal forward. “I don’t see how he is to survive down here, but he seems to have some kind of breathing contraption that is doing just fine.” He reached out and touched the cat, stroking his fingers over his head and behind his ear. The rumbling vibrations started again and the water shook, but when Roswell started to butt his hand for more scritches he knew that this sound was a very good one.
2009-08-12 02:18 pm (UTC)
Exactly 350 words according to my (word) counter... (English spelling too)
Let’s blame the tuna.
The shop had been out of the usual brand. Hennepin refused to touch the substitute tin but Roswell gobbled it all up without chewing.
That very night, she escaped.
It was full moon; she could feel the call of the tide pulsating in her veins.
Gills were starting to form behind her whiskers. Getting into water quickly turned into a life or death matter.
Good thing that the river was nearby. She jumped.
Well, that was weird of course. Her outer-cat really did not like this and was most vocal about it. But her inner-tuna…
Her inner-tuna sang with the pure joy of water. And growled in anger at the fact that said water was both sweet and polluted. It clung at her gills, getting into her ears as well and her mood oscillated between ecstatic and furious, hissing a lot.
It had been the hissing. It was like angry wind in the willows, or stones brushed by white waters. It sang and howled and called.
And someone answered.
“Sardines!” - she thought - “Sardines with tits!”
The beasts had the flummoxed silly look of human faces. Yet, after a while, the girls decided that Roswell must be a playmate – she was swimming in their waters after all – and started pushing her about, lifting her in the air – making her outer-cat happy – or plunging her deep below the surface – the inner-tuna purring – until her body connected with a low branch, the shock knocking both the wind and dinner out of her lungs and stomach.
With the weird tuna out of her system, Roswell got back to her senses. What was she doing about the water? And how dared those sardiny tarts trying to drag her down! She hissed, holding onto the branch for dear life. And howled. And this time the naiads realised that probably their toy did not quite belong to the river and let go.
When she got back home after three days, she was sure to let her humans know that it had been all their fault.
She still refuses to eat tuna.
2009-08-12 03:43 pm (UTC)
Re: Exactly 350 words according to my (word) counter... (English spelling too)
GRIN - love the idea of channeling an 'inner-tuna' :o)
What a GREAT excuse to write something :)
- - - - -
“I told you it was k’atar, not kat’ar!” Morgan lambasted, staring longingly inland, bare feet tickled by the evening tide. “One simple spell to change us from Selkies into humans and you screw up!”
“She can’t say ‘sorry’,” Dylan pointed out to Morgan, dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “She can't say anything. Not like that.”
The siblings stared down at their younger sister, heads crooked to one side as the water lapped at their ankles.
Dark eyes stared up at them from a black and white, fur surrounded, face. Dainty paws skipped backwards as the waves approached; whiskers bristling as she avoided the encroaching water.
“Only one night a year to do this and you ruin it, Roswell!” Morgan sniped.
“What do we do now?” Dylan asked, hesitantly.
“Can YOU transmogrify someone else?” Morgan asked.
“No,” Dylan giggled, stifling it with one hand as his sister glared at him.
“What’s so funny?”
“She turned herself into a cat,” Dylan grinned. “And needs a transmoggyfication spell to turn her back.”
“Which we can’t do; we can only change ourselves,” Morgan sighed, pointedly ignoring the joke and looking back to the dark waves behind her. “So there is only one thing we can do; go home and ask Father for help.”
“Help?” Dylan gulped. “Is that before or after Neptune locks us in the shoals?!”
“Not us,” Morgan winked, slyly. “We simply followed Roswell to the surface and saw her miscast the spell. It’s lucky we were here to cast a simple water-breathing spell and bring her back.”
“But it was your idea …” Dylan started then grinned, catching on. “And Father may just keep her that way to teach her a lesson, so Ros can’t let the ‘cat out of the bag’ … erm, where IS Roswell?”
“Dammit!” Morgan exclaimed as the Selkie in catform, tail rigid, ran into the night.
“You’d better hope you find some nice people to take care of you, Roswell!” Morgan shouted after her, grabbing Dylan’s hand and diving into the water; silver scales gleaming in the night air, they vanished into the deep.
... do you know how HARD it was to keep that to 350 words? :o) *swoon*
2009-08-12 04:49 pm (UTC)
350 words in mer world = how ever many i wrote
King Wafford slowly parted the kelp leaves with his trident. He surveyed the vast underwater valley before him, his eyes narrowed and his gills pulsed when the sleek submarine sped into view. His long black striped Mer-body coiled as he prepared his attack.
Ocean explorer Cyle Kassidy and his adventure loving cat, Roswell both gazed intently through the glass of their arrowhead shaped vessel as it nimbly darted through a coral arch. "Okay Ros, go ahead deploy the sonar droid and lets see what's down here." "aye aye cap" Roswell replied snidely . This was no ordinary housecat. Years before Cyle and a group of surly cat activists, who called themselves Citykittyies, had rescued Roswell from a secret govt, lab. Through advanced gene splicing and manipulation Roswell had high cerebral motor skills and vocal cords, clearly the brains of this duo.
Roswell reached forward and pressed an green oval button. a loud hiss and eruption of bubbles escaped from the stern of the "SS Hennepin". A deathstar looking globe shot away from the vessel and started scanning the sea floor.
Cyle was analyzing the incoming data as Roswell proceeded to guide the sub through the coral and giant kelp that sprang from the sea floor in grand clumps.
Suddenly a shadow struck across the Hennepin and the control board flashed and screamed warnings at the to adventurers. A green and black striped mer-man with a coral crown and silver trident swooped down in front of the bow. With a large webbed hand he clasped the sub and raised his trident for attack.
"Evasive Maneuvers"! Yowled Roswell. Paws furiously worked the controls as the sub bucked and rolled trying to ditch the the new passenger. Cyle frozen in amazement stared into the steeley gaze of King Wafford. " Wake up you fool"! Hissed Roswell who lashed out a claw slapping Cyle across the cheek. King Wafford roared a silent stream of bubble and brought his trident down onto the hood of the vehicle. a black cloud of oil billowed out and behind as the sub sped chaotically along the seabed.
The Hennepin's nose started to dip and slow down. King Wafford released his grip and backed away from the sub never taking his eyes off the inhabitants of the Hennepin. Cyle snapped alert and brought his hand down on a large red glowing button. "Nooo" Shrieked Roswell but it was too late. Unaware of his mistake, Cyle Shouted " Live hard , Die Free bitch!" A slender torpedo shot from its tube past King Wafford as he was too close for a direct hit. Roswell's eyes tracked the torpedo as started to gracefully arc back around towards the Hennepin. " You Fool" he whispered. King Wafford craned his neck and watched the torpedo make the turn and head back torwards him and the sub . His body coiled as he prepared to dart away, but obviously waiting for the right moment.
The torpedo zipped forward as it locked in on its target whistling its siren song from the propeller.
Cyle and Roswell furiously worked the control board, desparately trying to make the Hennepin respond. As the torpedo neared them King Wafford with a flip of his muscled fin shot from in front of the sub leaving only mere meters between the Hennepin and the torpedo.............
2009-08-12 05:29 pm (UTC)
Re: 350 words in mer world = how ever many i wrote
What does one have to do to win the Roswell the cat?
The tickle of whiskers startled Kassandra from a fitful sleep. She opened her eyes to find Roswell sitting on her chest, staring intently at her in a way only cats can. She glanced at the clock as she slowly sat up.
"Three AM? Stupid cat! Can't you ever let me sleep?"
The perimeter alarm began to chirp and, looking out the front window, she saw a group of shadows moving quickly toward the house.
"Great timing – my Fluid Dynamics presentation is this afternoon." she muttered to herself as she slipped out her bedroom window.
Roswell was already thirty feet ahead, whiskers and nose searching the air for signs of danger. She followed him silently as they ran toward the lake behind her house, realizing it was already too late as several spotlights illuminated her. Reaching the shoreline, she dove gracefully into the comforting protection of the icy water. As she swam deeper, she hoped that Roswell would make it to safety.
Knowing that they would find her one day, Kassandra had kept a small cache of supplies hidden at the bottom of the lake. Finding the spot, she was relieved to find the backpack right where she had left it. She didn’t expect to see Roswell sitting right next to the bag, nor was she prepared to hear a voice inside her head.
"No time for explanations. Your father created me to be your companion while you were in hiding and to warn you when necessary. I’m sorry to have deceived you for so long, but right now we have bigger things to worry - "
Roswell was cut off as a pair of hands snaked out the darkness, grabbing the cat and pulling her away. Kassandra snapped back to reality and summoned her icy sword as her armor froze into place around her. Several mer-men swam into range as she brought her sword around. Two fell to sandy floor, fatal gashes opened in their chests. The third cowered beneath her, still clutching Roswell, the tip of her sword at his throat.
"Tell my grandfather that I’m not interested."
so I told him I'd take the copy but I'd buy one and gift it and spread the win to three people.
That's what i did with Armed America when you had the audacity to gift me with a signed copy, only i didn't tell you. Until now.
I still had the buy-one Jones going after i got the copy you gave me, so i sent one to my Kneece in Dallas.
Her and her husband both loved it.
Cats lead secret lives. This should surprise no one who has ever had the very specific joy of being a cat owner.
They are capable of much more than we could ever imagine, imbued with powers that we would never think them capable of. We should have known, one who can be so easily won over with belly rubs is not to be entirely trusted.
Roswell the cat, was no stranger to keeping secrets. Her's was a carefully guarded gift that could be too easily exploited and she knew it , were she ever exposed , it would be the end of naps on the back porch and three am freak outs. It would be the end of life as she knew it.
One rainy summer afternoon, in an empty house , Roswell decided it was the perfect time for a swim. She ran through the kitchen to the screen door and slipped out the bottom in that way that cat's have when they become all liquid and whiskers. She ran through woods that met the back yard until she reached a clearing that broke upon a lake. With a mighty leap, she was in the water and diving. As soon as she was submerged, gills carefully camouflaged by the soft fur behind her ears opened. Roswell was breathing easy ,spiraling downward and deeper until the glow of the sun became soft blues and greens and all was quiet . She could have fished, but Roswell preferred larger game than the lake offered. She fancied she could take down a swordfish by herself , but cats notoriously overestimate their weight class. (they all see Muhammad Ali in the mirror, but who am I to argue with a happy ,albeit disillusioned cat) Ignoring the trout and occasional catfish ( too much kinship there), she swam lazily until something much larger caught her eye. It was bigger than anything she had seen in the lake, but it was too far away too discern it's nature. We have all heard about cats and curiosity, so it 's no surprise that Roswell decided to swim closer for a better look.
Forget the book, I want the cat!
Roswell stood up, stretched, yawned, and headed in from the porch for a drink. As she leaned in, she noticed slight ripples on the surface. Definitely not normal. She sniffed and smelled something new, a sweet, slightly fishy odor, not unpleasant, but not familiar. That’s when she saw the flicker of a tiny trident flashing across the bowl. What the…
She tentatively tapped the water with her paw, once, once more, then slapped it bap-bap-bap-bap-bap hard enough to fling something or someone - with a finny tail - against the dry side of the receptacle.
O, noes! Iz truff! Dere iz warz @ C!
She’d heard the rumors from the hoi polloi who frequented the alley at night, but who knew it could be true, let alone make it into the city. She plunged her furry face into the hated liquid.
There were three-against-one guppy-sized warriors in full battle, tiny tendrils of merfolk blood streaming from wounds on silvery flesh. She realized the aggressors must have chased their target in through the pipe. Taking advantage of his torture, she grabbed him in her teeth, dragged him out of the water, and dropped him onto the tile.
He gasped and writhed for a brief moment and expired. Pwned!
Roswell carried her delicate, decaying offering into the bedroom and laid it on the pillow. Then she headed for the kitchen where she sat washing her face waiting for the screaming. Trillian would be so surprised when she awoke from her nap.
The Mistress' Man was dreamwalking again, his flash box in hand, his long stride taking him closer and closer to the ocean. Roswell's tail tip twitched as she watched his retreating back. Technically it was Hennepin's night to guard him, but the other cat was nowhere in the dreamscape.
The Mistress' Man's long hair swayed about his shoulders, borne aloft by an ominous breeze stinking of seaweed and tar. A growl rumbled at the base of Roswell's throat as she stared at the waves; their frothy tops teeming with merfolk, their murderous eyes highlights of glowing green amidst the purple-blue swells. Continuing his walk toward the sea, the Mistress' Man took no notice of the danger, didn't even raise his flash box, so intent was he on some inner vision. Roswell thought about how sad the Mistress would be if he were never to awaken, how much longer it would take to get fed, and the fact that he did, indeed, give good head scritches.
With a disgruntled twitch of her whiskers, Roswell rose and padded after the dreamwalking man, her paws leaving no tracks upon the sleepsand. As the first wave washed upon his legs, Roswell leaped ahead, hackles raised, claws out, a hiss of a thousand deaths filling the air like a thick fog.
The merfolk's eyes dimmed. A boney merhand reached through the water for the Mistress' Man's leg and Roswell severed it with a single slash of a razor-edged paw. The merman's howl of pain choked and drowned as the other merfolk swept him out to sea. The waves calmed; the water a gentle turquoise with no trace of menacing glowing green eyes. Satisfied, Roswell sat above the sand, her tail curling around her feet. She began to clean her paw.
The Mistress' Man raised his flash box. It clicked and clicked and clicked some more. Then he turned and headed back the way he had come, slowly vanishing into the light of waking. Roswell sighed and padded after him, her paws leaving no tracks upon the sleepsand.
2009-08-13 02:08 am (UTC)
Please write a book/video/movie about Roswell. She seems to have so much to tell.....
A lithe, blonde mermaid awoke suddenly on the bottom of the ocean floor with a splitting headache. Her blue eyes took in the abundant aquatic life that surrounded her and winced in pain. Suddenly, she heard a loud shout, “Alice! Where have you been?!?!”
Mildly bewildered, Alice answered, “Jeffrey? Not so loud, please, I’ve a headache that pains me so, and it’s caused the most vivid dream.”
Jeffrey sat on the ocean floor beside her folding his brilliant green tail beneath him and asked, “Alice, where have you been?! We’ve been searching for hours.”
Looking more confused than ever, Alice shook her head and replied, “Why I’ve been here all along, I decided to take a nap. However, I dreamt that a huge, furry sea monster decided that I was it’s plaything, and threw me around and around the water. The creature was huge! Why, in my dream, I only saw a part of it, yet it was twice the size of me, and it had claws the size of my arm! But that doesn’t explain why I’ve awoke with such an awful headache. Will you help me home?”
Jeffrey flitted up from his position on the ground in a flash of metallic green and reached his hand toward her lovely body. “Of course, I’ll help you home, just give me your hand. However, you really must try not to wander off for naps in the most random places. It worries everyone so when we can’t find you. Surely, you wouldn’t have such awful nightmares if you would only take your naps on your nice seaweed mattress at home.”
With that, hand-in-hand the two mer-people swam off toward their mer-home.
Outside a ten-gallon aquarium filled with brilliantly colored plants and statues, a white-trimmed black cat sat intently watching a rather large goldfish swim lazily in circles. The cat twitched her tail in rhythm with the swimming fish. Eventually, the cat stood on her hind legs, dipped a furry claw into the water, and whipped it around wildly, completely unaware of the havoc caused to the aquarium decor.
She stood alone on the vast, empty shore. The great waves roared, crashed, frothed over sand and raced towards her feet. She shivered in disgust. To step foot in that disgusting ocean was the last thing she wanted.
She daintily slapped at it with one sandy paw. The water swirled around her claws and she pulled back, hissing.
It was so cold!
However, the call had come. She sighed, onward it must be.
With one powerful thrust she let herself fly through the air and into the waves. After a brief moment of swirling mayhem, her feet found purchase and she settled on the ocean floor.
Seawater filled her lungs. Choking, she gasped for air. The water filled her mouth and she felt herself begin to retch. Her whole body convulsed and she hacked a mighty cough.
At her feet sat, or rather floated, a hairball. She knocked it away in distaste.
She crossed many leagues before finally arriving at the undersea palace. The distance would have been annoying but she had traversed it many times before.
The Sea King was waiting. Ten stories to Roswell’s tiny stature and yet she stood before him, mighty in her pride.
“What do those Humans think they are doing?!” He bellowed.
“How should I know?”
“You are the ambassador.”
“I’m just a cat. You’re a King.” At once he deflated, his anger giving way to sadness.
“They have forgotten me. I no longer have even a name.”
“Then you must remind them. That is the only advice I have. You were once a god to them, they trembled in fear at your power. Make it so once again.” He stared glumly at her, not deigning to reply.
“Is there anything else? I dare say it’s time for my lunch and I will soon be missed.”
Back on land Roswell regarded the horizon; an angry storm of justified anger would soon be on its way. Roswell supposed she could attempt to warn them, but humans had forgotten the wiseness of cats. That memory was buried deep along with the names of their gods.
Roswell looks like she should have a Streaky The Supercat cape.
I Can ALWAYS Haz Mer-Ninjas
They flee through the water this time thinking I will not follow, but I do. My wet fur is uncomfortable, water pours into my ears and muddles my vision but I am sleek and fierce as a diving tiger in my pursuit.
They stole it from me, these mongrel enemies, these barbarian banes. I was sleeping when they crept into my lair and wrenched from my grip the last jewel of Bastania, the pride of my people and sole surviving relic of our lost kingdom. Fools to think it would be so easy! Fools to think it would not be reclaimed!
I tire of this perpetual battle, but my duties as Protector of Premises will not let me rest. Besides, when I find them I will enjoy piercing their hearts with my perfect claws and feasting on the warm goo in their bellies. Then, when justice has been wrought, I will ascend from this watery hell, return to my bed and finally, peacefully, slumber.
A rumbling noise begins to throb in the water, something chaotic and familiar I can feel all the way through my bones. A thick cramp has settled into my lungs, and I try to ignore the sound as I push forward. I do not have much time, but this nefarious clamor distracts me, tempting me to abandon my chase and follow its Siren promises. I must not yield. I will never yield!
The man looks down at the twitching cat and shakes the box of food one more time.
“Hey Roswell. Roswell kitty...wake up! Breakfast!”
The cat opens one eye, pushes out a sleek black paw and yawns. One long nail is evident for a moment before she retracts it, delicately.
“What do you think cats dream about?” the man asks the woman who has joined him.
Together they turn and follow Roswell into the kitchen.
“Oh, mice and things. If anything at all,” she says. “I don’t know if cats can dream actually.”
She bends down and gives her a scratch. The cat purrs lazily as she eats.
“Hey Roswell? Do you dream?”
2009-08-14 05:33 am (UTC)
Encounter at Boggy Peat
With a twitch of her whiskers, Roswell took a deep whiff of the flesh lying in the grass before her. It definitely was tuna. But there was a hint of something else, a subtle difference, like when He came in from the rain and Roswell could smell the grease from the bicycle cogs and not the dirt from the road.
She pawed at the fish and was disappointed in how damp it seemed. Really no better than what came out of the metal tins. She decided to leave it for now. Maybe later it would seem more appealing.
She pressed deeper into the grass and and the smell remained and she realized that it was not fish but the scent of something reptilian that lingered.
A few steps later the grass parted to reveal the shores of the bog. Mist hung over the rushes and Roswell remembered why she avoided this place. It was cold and damp. Except for the sounds of the water gently rippling against the reeds, the bog was quiet.
Roswell paused and began to lick away the dew from the wet grass that smeared her stomach. She was almost to her back paws when she heard the splash.
She cocked her head back and turned to see a figure rising out of the water just a few feet away. Her head and neck rolled around and she was righting herself to run when a scaly hand wrapped itself around her tail. A high pitched caterwaul erupted out of her lungs as she felt her hindquarters lifted from the ground. Her forelimbs swam circles in the air as the ground receding beneath her. She felt herself being whipped in an arc and then the hand released her.
Her eyes opened as she plunged underwater and through the murk she saw the black shapes of a legion of figures walking through the waters and towards the shore. At that point she knew she must do only one thing: survive and warn Him.
The silver light speared through the depths, the black speck in the center growing larger as it descended. The merpeople of Tu D’Lac watched silently as their goddess and protector from The Old Ones returned.
Once she reached them, Ro’S’Well swam to each warrior in turn, bestowing a hint of her own shining aura unto them. The process took hours, and soon the water glimmered around them.
When she reached the final recipient of her power, only a tiny glimmer remained. The small girl was presented, gurgling and smiling. Ro’S’Well rubbed against her tiny shoulder and purred out a few bubbles. With a flash, a supernatural light enveloped the girl, who would now be the conduit for enough energy to keep the settlement safe until Ro’S’Well’s return.
The high priest swam to Ro’S’Well and pressed his own scaled mouth against her velvet nose, breathing life into her for a few moments more.
“Thank you for bestowing this gift unto us once more, oh benevolent one,” he mouthed. “May your next four lives be beneficial to both our peoples.”
With that, Ro’S’Well began her treacherous ascent back to the surface. She kicked away from the dissipating crowd and thrashed up to the glassy liquid membrane separating water from air. She took in ragged, heaving breaths as her head broke through.
As she struggled to shore, she felt warm arms envelope her. She was surrounded in familiarity- there was the smell of her human and night scents reaching out to her, of fish and mud and coming rain. Crickets chirped, and with wonder she watched a group of fireflies twinkle like close up stars.
“How did you get in the lake, Roswell?” Her human asked as he hugged her shivering body close. “I wish I had my camera. You look a mess. We’ll get you home and dried off in no time. Next time you want to catch fish, let me know. I’ll try to talk you out of it.”
Ro’S’Well relaxed in his arms and purred, enjoying the warmth of his chest and the soft summer breeze.
2009-08-14 10:32 pm (UTC)
Not really an entry, just a bit of silliness on a rainy afternoon
So, this is not really an entry, because I couldn't think of anything to write. But when I saw that picture of Roswell, I found a certain image and title popping into my brain (Venus on the Half-Shell
), and found myself compelled to make this bit of silliness.
~with apologies and admiration to Victor Gadino, Kilgore Trout, Philip Jose Farmer, Kurt Vonnegut, Kyle Cassidy, Roswell, and whoever took the underwater photo I found at zunal.com