Yes! I know! Doesn't that sound like a disgusting title? Well, it's a script for a children's puppet show, what do you want? I apologize, the quality may be a bit sub-par, but I had to edit out some of the gags, they were too sub-culture-specific. Also, this is a fairly old piece 4-6 years, and some of the jokes are (at least by adult standards) REALLY REALY BAD. A few notes: anything presented with an asterisk (*) and underlined is a variable part of the story, dependant on the location and time of the story. And I apologize for any confusion caused byt the narrators being labeled N1 and N2. While I was writing it, I was trying to keep it open for a mixed-cast show. (People AND puppets.) Anyhow, I'm sure there aren't too many scripts in the Library, so even if it's dreadful, at least it's different.
I (I shall admit) am a gamer. The best part, often, is in coming up with a backstory for my characters. I had been playing a gnomish-soreror who goes by the name of Zot (His full name is extremely long, and ends in 'Bim Fizzledy-Whee.) I had been working on his backstory, trying to flesh things out, when my GM asked each member of our party to write out a powerful memory for our characters. I'd created lots of parts, bits of Zot's life, but hadn't bound them together. At the GM's request, I was immediately booted in the back of the skull with this memory sequence. The memories were collected and presented as a disjointed dream ot the entire party. (See also 'Unseen Darkness,' the dream of another character in the story; Lao, a blind monk.)
I think the title defines it well enough. (Actually, it's more of a song than a poem, but we can't have everything, can we?) Anyhow, a very silly poem indeed, and I think there are a few more verses to be appended to it Somewhere... Oh yeah, this was sort of inspired by the concept of Elfwood as a base world for a collection of pocket universes.I.e. All the habitats presented in art and writing here are actually Part of one HUGE place called Elfwood... Ripples in the S/T continuum caused by entirely too many creative fold congregating on one spot. Um....... And stuff. I'm going to go to bed now.
Er... This sort of showed up as a vision one day when I was really sleep-deprived. Based on the 'Every one has a true-love, but they might be living across the globe.' concept. Well, what if he lived on your street, your block, and you always crossed paths, seperated only by the thickness of an instant, that minute measure of time between now and never. I'll ramble on about the travels of this young man at some other time. Meanwhile, read my rather foolish vignette. (Sadly, it's a bit soppy. I apologize, it was one of those days.)