{"id":26,"date":"2021-12-09T11:20:16","date_gmt":"2021-12-09T11:20:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/?p=26"},"modified":"2024-02-01T18:24:47","modified_gmt":"2024-02-01T18:24:47","slug":"the-habit","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/2021\/12\/09\/the-habit\/","title":{"rendered":"The Habit"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Explanation<\/strong>: This is a collaborative-writing project, to which YOU<\/strong>, Dear Reader, are invited to contribute! Yes: join our wacky team of living and undead authors in creating a novel with more twists than a waist-length braid. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whether you define yourself as a writer (or illustrator) and are suffering from writer’s\/illustrator’s block, or want to relax with some nonsense after an intense day\/night of writing\/rewriting 20k words of something “serious”; OR have never had experience of writing\/illustrating… but “would kind of like to have a go at it”, you are welcome to join in. And if you’d like to have us post a link to your own website or social-media profile, just say the word! (Check for underlined writers’ names in the list posted just before the action starts, and click on them if you want to follow those writers.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You have nothing to lose but your reputation!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Habit<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

STOP PRESS!!!<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \n
  1. The main text has now been updated to include the first 11 21 44 55 63<\/s> 71 comments.<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n\n\n\n

    2) We’d like to encourage ILLUSTRATORS to contribute to this project. But you can’t post an illustration in the comment box below. So please send any illustration as a JPG attachment (max. 1Mb, but it could be +\/-200kb) to an e-mail addressed to saga (AT) la-granota (DOT) com – with a covering letter explaining just where you want the illustration to fit in. (e.g. Right after “why there he is, coming towards us!\u201d)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Introduction<\/strong><\/u><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Welcome to The Habit<\/em>: the long-awaited prequel to THE saga<\/em>. (Which can be ordered at https:\/\/la-granota.com\/list.htm<\/a>) You can also read the beginning of THE saga<\/em> HERE<\/a><\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Rules<\/strong><\/u><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    As was THE saga<\/em>, this will be a collaboratively written novel. Mijnheer Jimmy Hollis i Dickson (Frog-In-Chief at La Gr@not@) has elsewhere laid out 3 of the rules governing participation, to wit:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “1) You are allowed to add a maximum<\/strong> of three (3) sentences each time to the novel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “2) You must wait for at least<\/strong> two (2) other collaborators to add their bits before you return to the fray.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “3) You must be agreeable to ALL profits of this project going to worthy causes. (The profits from the first instalment [THE saga<\/em>] will go to 3 groups who work with refugees. This is a cause very dear to Ms. Austen (who managed to shout down Mr. Tolkien), and profits from follow-up projects will go the same way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    I would like to add the following rules (never transgressed in the earlier opus, but \u201cbetter safe than sorry\u201d):<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    4a) You may write as yourself or as a famous author (preferably dead), but…<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    4b) To protect ALL of us \u2013 but especially me as editor in charge of this project and La Gr@not@ as its publisher \u2013 from litigation on grounds of copyright infringement and\/or plagiarism, no direct quotes of more than 6 words from authors who have not yet been dead for at least 75 years will be permitted! You may copy their style of writing, if you so wish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    5) Contributions by writers dead for over 75 years, however, should be \u2013 whenever they can be crowbarred into the plot \u2013 exact quotations if possible, or (failing that) with one or two words substituted. As a last resort, you may post an original comment as long as<\/strong> you make every effort to imitate that author\u2019s style. (Examples of all 3 instances to be found in The Austen\u2019s first post, below.) We don\u2019t want Jane Austen writing \u201cGeez, Baby, he was like \u2018Go soak your head.\u2019 I HADDA<\/strong> slug \u2019im!\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Do we?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    6) The above (in point 4) also applies to slander\/libel, whether of famous people or of fellow contributors to this project. Stating that one of your fellow writers\u2019 mother was a baboon should NOT be made UNLESS you feel 100% confident of being able to prove the truth of the statement in a court of law.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    7) If you feel possessed by the spirit of a famous (deceased) author, the convention is to claim that they have hacked your e-mail account and submitted a maximum<\/strong> of three (3) sentences in your stead<\/strong>. You, therefore, forfeit your turn, and must wait for two (2) others to post before you may recover your own identity as writer. (Not withstanding my long complaint about Jane Austen hacking my account which appears on http:la-granota\/saga.html<\/a> , this announcement\/complaint should be relatively short, although it does NOT count against your interloper\u2019s 3-sentence allowance, and humour is appreciated in the \u201ccomplaint\u201d. Writers who flagrantly and repeatedly abuse this loophole will be reprimanded.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    8) Rules 4 through 8 will not appear in the introduction of the novel when finally published, and I strenuously advise against showing them to any outsiders (non-participants) DURING THE WRITING. Don’t you remember how you upset all of the other children in your class \u2013 making that one little girl actually cry \u2013 when you announced that Santa Claus doesn\u2019t really exist? Well, I hope that you\u2019ve learnt from that episode and refrain from causing doubt about the existence of zombies!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    9) You will notice, from my first post below, that your sentences can be very long. But \u2013 with the exception of The Austen\u2019s unnecessary and highly irritating scattering of commas where they shouldn\u2019t be \u2013 all of your sentences should be grammatically correct, and use correct punctuation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    10. This one REALLY<\/strong> should go without saying but, unfortunately, there are some nasty people in the world, and some of them are writers. So: no misogyny, racism, xenophobia, nor anti-LGBTQI+ posts will be tolerated. They will NOT be incorporated into the main text. If you see that the latest comment falls into one of these categories, just ignore it, and proceed from the previous comment. (Some of had great fun using Australian slang in THE saga<\/em>, and that may reoccur here, but this isn\u2019t to be construed as racism: it was done with affection.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    So much \u2013 for now \u2013 about the rules. More may be added later, as the need arises. I hope that it doesn\u2019t!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Further Info And Tips<\/strong><\/u><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    As editor, I reserve the right to edit your posts in order to make them abide by these rules. One (one-post) contributor to THE saga<\/em> took great umbrage at my doing so (she\u2019d broken the 3 sentence rule) and stalked off in a huff. Or \u2013 as Groucho might have said \u2013 perhaps it was a minute and a huff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Speaking of Groucho, Jane Austen was originally added to the cast of THE saga<\/em> because at least 3 of us hold her in the lowest esteem. She was introduced as a zombie, in order to poke fun at her. She took revenge on us by joining the writing team! Lewis Carroll (zombie) was later introduced, and those 3 of us mentioned earlier hold him in the highest esteem. He didn\u2019t post anything in THE saga<\/em>, but we\u2019re hoping that he might join in in this, its prequel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Some of us who contributed to THE saga<\/em> found the following websites to be jewel mines \u2013 whether for inspiration or for simple theft:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    http:\/\/www.koalanet.com.au\/australian-slang.html<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    https:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/author\/quotes\/1265.Jane_Austen?page=<\/u>1<\/u><\/a> (and following pages)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And I\u2019ll add to that: https:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/author\/quotes\/947.William_Shakespeare?page=1<\/a> (ditto)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Tolkien-quotes websites (for example) should \u2013 following on from point 4 \u2013 only be used to soak in the style.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Mijnheer Jimmy Hollis i Dickson (Frog-In-Chief at La Gr@not@) was of a mind to send each of you who enlist in this project a copy of THE saga<\/em>, in order to give you a better idea of what we\u2019re aiming for. Admittedly important in writing a prequel, since we all have to end up more-or-less where the other begins, providing \u201cback-story\u201d. But he\u2019s a na\u00efve young thing of only 66 years \u2013 a \u201cbabe in the woods\u201d, as innocent as the day he turned 65 \u2013 and Wilhelmina and I voted that proposal down. Both projects are for good causes, and giving free samples away to POSSIBLY the only readers they\u2019ll ever have is a bad idea, in our opinion. What if someone SAYS that they\u2019ll collaborate and then never does (or only posts one or two passages of 3 sentences each before abandoning), with a free novel under their arm?!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    We have, therefore, with Jimmy\u2019s reluctant agreement, amended the proposal to sending a free copy of THE saga<\/em> to anyone who has proven of good faith by posting 6 instalments of decent quality. In the meantime, you\u2019ll just have to muddle along with what you see here. Consider it a novitiate test into a secret society. You will be illumined when you prove yourself worthy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    A curious anomaly of prequels is that they\u2019re written (or filmed) after what\u2019s coming next. In this case, although the exact date of the resurrection of certain zombies was not made clear in THE saga<\/em>, Tolkien\u2019s was certainly brought to undeadness during the timespan of those future events. Zombiefied in a fictitious future, he exists for the writing of this past to that fictitious future\u2026 if you get my drift. But will he \u2013 and other characters from THE saga<\/em> \u2013 be allowed to appear in the prequel?! A thorny dilemma…<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But \u2013 as my tenth doctor used to say when referring to timelines \u2013 \u201cwibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey\u201d<\/a>. We are going to postulate a nervous breakdown in the space-time continuum (or a wormhole if you\u2019d prefer), and allow people and other creatures to will have had taken [sic] advantage of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    How To Participate<\/strong><\/u><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Unlike THE saga<\/em>, we are using WordPress to hammer together this one. Your 3-sentence continuations of \u2013 for want of a more appropriate term \u2013 \u201cthe plot\u201d should be posted in the comments section. But PLEASE NOTE that they should follow on from the last comment posted<\/strong>, NOT from what appears in the main body of text! The main body will be updated from time to time (by myself), but \u2013 let\u2019s hope \u2013 not until several comments have been posted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    You\u2019ll see that I\u2019ve listed the first contributors to the present opus before the narrative begins, in the order of the first posts of each writer. When you post your first contribution, please state your name (or nom-de-plume <\/em>[alias]) and identifying initials (if you\u2019re Jacob Atkinson, you may become JA2, since JA is already taken by Jane Austen\u2026 or you may insert your middle initial). These will then be added at the bottom of the list. After that, please identify yourself with those initials on every post. Thank you!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Finally, on a personal note, one or two of you \u2013 of a more enquiring mind and observant eye (read: \u201cnosy parkers\u201d) \u2013 might notice that, very often, Wilhelmina Lyre and I post our contribution one right after the other. This is because we are partners \u2013 in every sense of the word (except my market-gardening business: W has a talent for making plants wither, as well as one for frightening potential buyers away from my stall) and show our ideas to each other before posting them. Which usually inspires the other’s next post.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Others may be asking yourselves \u201cWhat\u2019s this lowercase i doing all by itself in the middle of Jimmy\u2019s name?!\u201d I have Jimmy\u2019s permission to reveal that Hollis was his father\u2019s surname, Dickson was his mother\u2019s maiden surname, and i is the Catalan word for \u201cand\u201d. As if you care.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Thank you for your kind attention!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    ~ Emilie van Damm, editor of this project<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The Contributing Writers<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    The following writers have contributed to this novel so far<\/strong> (arranged in order of first post)<\/em>. As mentioned earlier, we’re [almost] always happy to welcome newcomers to the team!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Emilie van Damm ~ EvD<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Wilhelmina Lyre ~ WL<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Jimmy Hollis i Dickson ~ JHiD<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Jane Austen (zombie) ~ JA<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    William Shakespeare (zombie) ~ WS<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Victoria Fielding ~ VF<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Lynda Thornhill ~ LT<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Mia <\/em>Creely<\/em> ~ M<\/em>C<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Lewis Carroll (zombie) ~ LC<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ois\u00edn (zombie) ~ O<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Oscar Fingal O\u2019Flahertie Wills Wilde (zombie) ~ OFOWW<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (zombie) ~ MdCS<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Charles Dickens (zombie) ~ CD<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The Story<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Aisha and Jon stood in the immense entrance hall of King\u2019s Cross Station, holding hands because of their nervousness and timidity\u2026 except with each other (having been born on opposite sides of Harbinger St., and having played with each other for the eleven years since then).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    It was certainly an awe-inspiring \u2013 even frightening \u2013 jumble of sights, sounds, and smells for two children on their first trip far away from home without their parents. Among the many curious characters whom they could see milling around were: a short, plump man smoking a pipe, who was intriguingly wearing a nun\u2019s vestments, including wimple [admittedly this could have been a nun with a beard], but with bare feet (which seemed to be covered in fur), speaking to a very tall man wrapped in a grey cloak, wearing a tall, pointed hat (also grey), holding a staff which was easily as tall as himself, and whose long, grey beard had just caught fire from one of the sparks from his flashing eyes; a small bear wearing a large, misshapen hat and a duffel coat (with a note pinned to it), with orange marmalade smeared all around his(?) mouth, and looking rather as if he(?) were in the wrong train station; another rather tall, thin man, this one wearing a deerstalker hat and smoking an evil-smelling mixture in a meerschaum pipe, who was accompanied by a shorter, thickset man carrying what looked like a doctor\u2019s black bag; a kangaroo, just disappearing around a corner (but what she\u2019s carrying in her pouch<\/em> \u2013 though Aisha \u2013 certainly isn\u2019t a joey!<\/em>); a couple who looked remarkably like Freema Agyeman and David Tennant, opening the door of a police call box from the 60s; a girl in a blue dress with a white apron, who was chasing a waistcoated, white rabbit, which was holding a pocket-watch and muttering to him(?)self while running along; three men standing together, one of them wearing a conical hat, the second with curly, strawberry-blond hair and carrying a large horn with a rubber bulb at one end, which he honked at passing women, and the third with glasses, a painted \u201cmoustache\u201d, and a long cigar; a young, distraught woman who Jon (with his imperfect grasp of vocabulary) thought was wuthering about the heights on the cross-hatched beams<\/em> above his head; and an unaccompanied boy of their own age, who looked something like what filmstar-heartthrob Daniel Radcliffe might have looked like when he was 11 years old, except that he was wearing round, black specs too big for his face, and had a strange scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt! ~ EvD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Aisha jostled Jon and pointed at this last-mentioned, whispering \u201cIf he\u2019s trying for the John Lennon look, he\u2019s failed miserably with those plastic frames!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Jon giggled approvingly, but then wailed \u201cHow are we supposed to find platform nine and three quarters if it isn\u2019t indicated anywhere?!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The strange boy evidently heard this, because he approached them and asked \u201cAre you heading for Pigverrucas Academy For Aspiring Wizards, Witches, And Assorted Geeks And Nerds, too?\u201d ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cPAFAWWAAGAN, yes that\u2019s us,\u201d replied Aisha, adding \u201cI\u2019m going to be a witch and Jon here is going to be a wizard. Are you going to be a geek or a nerd, if there\u2019s any difference?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The bespectacled boy said \u201cI\u2019m not quite sure, but a man in a pointy hat told me that I was a born\u2026 why there he is, coming towards us!\u201d ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [<\/em>Oh dammit!<\/em> I was afraid that she\u2019d show up, but did she have to hack my new e-mail account so soon?! Ladies and Gentlemen, Girls and Boys! I am NOT delighted to present\u2026 Jane Austen (zombie)]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The aforementioned gentleman of the pointed millinery, was indeed, approaching the trio of small children with, long elegant strides, and once arrived was saying to his extraordinary companion \u201cAlas, my dearest Dildo, here must we part company, for you are predetermined, to board the 7:18 steam train to Smug the Dragon\u2019s lair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThe person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good railway journey, must be intolerably stupid,\u201d he ejaculated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u200b\u201cI must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible,\u201d rejoined his companion, previous to taking his, not tearless leave of those, there assembled. ~ JA<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    [Oh Lordy, and now William\u2019s hacked <\/em>mine<\/u><\/em>!]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cParting is such sweet sorrow!\u201d cried the wizard, sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cIf music be the food of love, play on,
    Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
    The appetite may sicken, and so die.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Turning anon to those children remaining, he ask\u2019d \u201cAnd are all ye bound for Pigverrucas?\u201d ~ WS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cLooks like it,\u201d answered Jon. \u201cMe, I\u2019m going to be a Wizzard, because my grannie\u2019s got all their records, as well as all of The Move\u2019s and ELO\u2019s (before Roy Wood quit the group), and they\u2019re really great! He\u2019s my hero, Roy Wood, he wrote a lot of great songs, and produced other artists, too!\u201d ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Aisha had shrunk away from the growing group to a more sparsely populated \u2013 deserted even \u2013 corner of the platform, protected as it was by a shield of smell so thick it appeared to be a heat mirage made of grease. At the centre was a \u2018Meat-Product-Inna-Bun\u2019 stall with prices so cheap that Aisha, with a youthful disregard for her mortality, elected to purchase and begin to consume. The result was a noise that the nearby crowd mistook for an approaching train. ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Jon could only watch in admiration as Aisha, now completely oblivious to her surroundings and the growing crowd of slack-jawed observers, demonstrated her impressively hearty appetite with the help of an aptly termed \u2018large bucket\u2019, served as it was in a large bucket. Partway into her third unidentifiable meat-burger, however, Aisha let out a yelp of pain (not to be confused with indigestion) and reached up to her mouth. Wide-eyed in surprise, she gingerly dusted the meaty crumbs off the strange object, and held it out with shaking hands. ~ LT<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cWhat on earth….?\u201d she muffled, trying simultaneously to speak and keep her mouth closed, for fear of something equally strange following the spittle-covered object she now \u2013 rather reluctantly \u2013 held.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cIt looks like a teeny, tiny crown\u2026\u201d said Jon, adding \u201cis it metal?\u201d rather excitedly, and following that with \u201cIs it GOLD??\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cWell, it’s certainly not a meat product!\u201d replied Aisha, wiping the last remaining sticky crumbs away from what appeared to be rubies. ~ MC<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! The Rev. Dodgson has decided to join us! Well worth having my e-mail account hacked. In fact, I consider myself <\/em>honoured<\/strong><\/u><\/em>!]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Aisha cleaned off her find as best she could, placed it on the top of her head, and, turning to a nearby looking-glass, recited: \u201cTo the Looking-Glass world it was Aisha that said ‘I’ve a bucket in hand, I’ve a crown on my head. Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be, Come and dine with Jon Wizzard, the Geek\/Nerd, and me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But Jon countered with \u201cSpeak English: I don’t know the meaning of half those long words, and I don’t believe you do either!\u201d ~ LC<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The tall figure cloaked in grey strode up to them, with the young would-be-John-Lennon in tow, and more sparks flashed from his eyes as he raised his staff in the air in a rather dramatic \u2013 but somehow ridiculous \u2013 gesture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThe steam train will soon be leaving from platform nine and three quarters,\u201d he pronounced. \u201cAnd we haven\u2019t bought our tickets yet!\u201d ~ EvD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    He patted his legs where most people would have trouser pockets, but he \u2013 being a wizard of immense magical power \u2013 of course needed no pockets (nor trousers, for that matter).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cI seem to have… ahem, that is\u2026 you<\/strong>, boy!\u201d (pointing at Jon). \u201cBe a nice, useful sort of chappie, and get the tickets, would you?\u201d ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    So Jon trotted off to one of the ticket windows and asked for one adult and three halves to Pigscider Station.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cHow much will that be, please, Sir, and could you tell me how to get to platform nine and three quarters?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The ticket seller was a wizened old man, who stared at Jon as if he didn\u2019t understand a word of what Jon was saying. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [My Goodness! My email account has been hacked by someone purporting to be Ois\u00edn, the legendary Irish warrior-poet.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ansin labhair an d\u00edolt\u00f3ir tic\u00e9ad d\u00e1 bhr\u00ed sin:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cDamb-r\u00f3 Cuchulaind Cualnhge
    ria curadaib Craebruade,
    beti fir i fuilib de
    d’argain Maige Murthemne!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cDochuaid-sium turus bad s\u00eda,
    go ranic Slebi Armenia,
    rala \u00e1g dar aiste,
    ra chuir \u00e1r [ar] na cichloiste!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cBa handsu d\u00f3 meic Nectain
    do chur assa pr\u00edmlepthaib,
    cu na cerda, ba mod n-\u00e1ig,
    do marbad cona oenl\u00e1im!\u201d ~ O<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ois\u00edn, mac Fionn mac Cumhaill agus Sadhbh (in\u00edon Bodhbh Dearg) [O]<\/h1>\n\n\n\n

    [For the sake of those of you who don\u2019t speak Gaelic, the following is a rough translation.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Therefore spake then the ticket vendor:<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cIf C\u00fa Chulainn, Cualnge’s Hound,
    And Red Branch chiefs on you come,
    Men will welter in their blood,
    Laying waste Murthemne’s plain!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “Far away he held his course,
    Till he reached Armenia’s heights;
    Battle dared he, past his wont,
    And the Burnt-Breasts put to death!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cHardest for him was to drive
    Necht’s sons from their chieftest haunts;
    And the smith’s hound \u2013 mighty deed \u2013
    Hath he slain with single hand!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    <\/a> (signed) Ois\u00edn, <\/em>the son of<\/em> Fionn mac Cumhaill (AKA Finn MacCool) <\/em>and<\/em> <\/em>S<\/em>adhbh (<\/em>the daughter of<\/em> Bodhbh Dearg, AKA Bodb Derg), with initial O ~ (note from the editor)]<\/em><\/h1>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cCrikey!\u201d exclaimed Jon. \u201cI was only asking\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But at that point the wizened ticket vendor disappeared in a puff of smoke-simulating dry-ice cloud. ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The smoke \u2013 or cloud \u2013 grew and grew, until it filled the whole of the ticket hall of the station. Once it had cleared away, Jon inexplicably found himsef standing on three quarters of a platform with the others of his party, to wit: Aisha (still wearing a tiny, meat-flecked crown), the tall fire-hazard-greybeard, and the John-Daniel-Lennon-Radcliffe mashup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    A figure wearing a kimono and with a head shaped rather like a frog\u2019s was calling through the wrong end of a megaphone: \u201cAll aboard for the express steam train to Pigscider Station, leaving in less than no time.\u201d ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    On hearing these words, Aisha began windmilling her way past the others and scrambling aboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cYou know I get travel sick if I don\u2019t sit in the best seat on the train,\u201d she muttered defensively, as Jon followed her into a plush but dimly lit carriage which was already quite full, near the front of the train.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The remaining empty seats were quickly filled by the bespectacled boy and the tall, bearded figure, who then produced an impossibly large scroll of paper from beneath his cloak with what Jon considered an unnecessary flourish. ~ LT<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cHear ye, hear ye!\u201d shouted the wizard, startling just about everyone in the carriage, and setting two babies off in a competition to determine which of them could cry the louder, with bonus points for redness of face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    <\/a>\u201cBe it hereby beknown to all present that Pigverrucas Academy For Aspiring Wizards, Witches, And Assorted Geeks And Nerds \u2013 hereinafter to be referred to as the party of the first part or PAFAWWAAGAN (as the mood strikes me) \u2013 is divided into four (4) houses, to wit: GriffRhysJones, Slimything, Crowfoot, and PuffTheMagicDragon, which four (4) houses are assigned to new students by decision of a magic beret, wot once belonged to Pablo Picasso (during his Blue Period).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThe party of the second part \u2013 hereinafter to be referred to as the party of the third part or the birthday party, depending on the day of the week \u2013 shall be considered the party of the fourth part for tax purposes, unless the tax year begins in a leap year, in which case the party of the first part is to be held at my place, but with the proviso that all guests bring a bottle.\u201d ~ EvD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Jon was trying to follow all of this jumble: a bear which had belonged to Pablo Picasso, birthday parties, yaks\u2019 tears, and Puff The Magic Ryss Jones<\/em>, all competing with a crying contest, when he noticed the ticket inspector opening the door from the neighbouring carriage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    He hadn\u2019t bought the tickets!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    NOW<\/strong> I\u2019m in for it!<\/em> he thought. ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [I was just wondering what I could follow on with, when I realised that my e-mail account has been hacked again. Hooray for the Oxford mathematician!]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cTickets, please!\u201d said the Guard, approaching down the aisle, and in a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the same size as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage. \u201cShow your ticket, children!\u201d the Guard went on, looking angrily at Aisha, Jon, and the Geek\/Nerd, while a great many voices all said together (\u201clike the chorus of a song,\u201d thought Aisha), \u201cDon\u2019t keep him waiting, children! Why, his time is worth a thousand pounds a minute!\u201d ~ LC<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Aisha saw Jon\u2019s panicked and guilty face scanning the carriage for an impossible escape route and, although she had imagined six impossible things before breakfast, she couldn\u2019t imagine how they could sneak away from the ticket collector under the attention of the hive-mind passengers. She stealthily slipped a dainty pair of brass knuckles onto her fingers and was about to take matters into her own hands when matters unexpectedly and helpfully came out of her intestines instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Our friends quite quickly had the whole carriage to themselves, for the ticket collector deemed a thousand pounds a minute was not enough recompense to deal with that particular smell, and the passengers had, as one of course, decided to check whether they\u2019d left the gas on at home. ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    ISN\u2019T it getting \u201cclose\u201d in this railway carriage, though?! I don\u2019t think that I left the gas on at home, but someone\u2019s let the gas OUT here\u2026 and the damned windows don\u2019t open! Using, therefore, my superpowers as author, I\u2019m going to do all of you readers a great favour and transport you to the Homealone Mountain, where Dildo Buggins is hacking through undershrub and toiling uphill towards the mouth of a cave, from which smoke, tinged with a reddish glow, is emanating. ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Hampered in his upward struggle by The Habit<\/em> he was wearing [there: it\u2019s ABOUT TIME that we worked the title of this opus into the text], Dildo kept tripping up and falling into the brambles. \u201cI thought that this wimple was supposed to make me able to fly<\/a>,\u201d he grumbled. \u201c\u2018Lift plus thrust\u2019, my arse<\/strong>!\u201d ~ EvD <\/p>\n\n\n\n

    I wish to state that I don\u2019t actually believe that relocating from a foul-flatulence-filled train carriage to a deep, dark, dungeony cave with a smoke-breathing dragon is NECESSARILY a wise career move, olfactorily speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Given that the dragon\u2019s name is Smug, my bet is that it smokes Gauloises sans filtre or Panatella cigars\u2026 or even \u2013 The Deary save and preserve us \u2013 cherry-brandy-flavoured pipe tobacco.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    I, for one (suffering as I do from allergy to tobacco smoke: oh, the migraines I could tell you of!), don\u2019t wish to follow Dildo into that cave, and shall remain out here, describing the flora and fauna of the environs, while the rest of you report the social intercourse of Habit and Dragon. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Continuing his uphill struggle, Dildo stumbled upon one of the most famous fountains of witty epigrams in the English language: Mr. Oscar Wilde<\/strong>, himself!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cStumbled upon\u201d is completely accurate, since Dildo \u2013 with his eye ever on the mouth of the cave and the smoke issuing from it \u2013 tripped over the supine figure of Ireland\u2019s greatest playwright-whose-last-name-is-Wilde\u2026 which was face-down among the fallen leaves on the floor of the wooded slope. Scrambling to his feet and turning the body face-up, Dildo deduced that undeadness had not improved Oscar\u2019s looks at all at all, his appearance being rather like one imagines the picture of Dorian Gray to look like. ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Who left that zombie on the slopes of Homealone Mountain?! And how did he hack my e-mail account this quickly?! When am I going to be able to write something of my own? ~ EvD]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    We are all in the leaf-mould, but some of us are looking up a nun\u2019s habit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying. ~ Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde (OFOWW)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    For some unaccountable reason, Dildo helped the zombiefied Oscar to his feet, and, leaning on each other, they made their way to the entrance of the cave, and disappeared within.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    As I have earlier announced, I have no intention of following them thither, having decided to be the Nature Correspondent for the duration of this cave business.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    If we are very quiet and remain absolutely still, we can hear a pair of blue tits greeting the dawn and each other: the one in a twisted hawthorn bush, the other from the lower, moss-covered branches of a lofty pine! ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Meanwhile, back on the train<\/strong>, Aisha had noticed Jon\u2019s look of terror upon the approach of the ticket collector, and instantly realised why\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cWe need tickets!\u201d she whispered, quietly enough not to be heard by the rapidly retreating official, but loudly enough for Jon to hear over the surrounding cacophony.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Almost immediately, she felt a strange, warm tingle on the top of her head, directly beneath the meat-encrusted crown, her left eye twitched briefly, and then, suddenly, in her hand there materialised the required tickets! ~ MC<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cI\u2019m so glad to have company on this quest!\u201d whispered Dildo to Oscar, after each had introduced themselves according to the etiquette of civilised society, as they made their way down the sloping passage of the cave. \u201cI\u2019m not on it of my own choosing, but Glandhalf The Greybeard told me that it was my destiny. You see, I lost both of my parents to dragons when I\u2019d just reached adulthood.\u201d ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [I should have known<\/strong>, when Mr. Wilde first hacked my account, that it would be nigh impossible to shut him up. Here he is again\u2026]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    There has been enough whispering! I don\u2019t believe in whispering: it is for those who are ashamed of what they have to say, but want to say it anyway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    So I replied to my habit-clad companion in a rather loud voice (I have a lovely voice): \u201cTo lose one parent, Mr. Buggins, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.\u201d ~ OFOWW<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Once again, Jon could only stare at Aisha in confounded awe, as she regained the attention of the inspector and thrust the tickets triumphantly into his waiting hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Decidedly disappointed at being deprived of the opportunity to remove this stench-producing passenger and her apparently besotted companion from his beloved train, the inspector headed to the next carriage, in his endless search for more ticketless ne’er-do-wells.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “That was amazing,” gasped Jon, as his power of speech gradually returned, adding: “What else do you think you’ve got stashed up there?” ~ LT<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Holding my breath, I watch as the blue tit \u2013 Cyanistes caeruleus<\/em> \u2013 in the pine tree (a magnificent Pinus densiflora<\/em>, a rare immigrant to these regions) makes a graceful swoop to join its fellow perched on the hawthorn bush (a Crataegus aestivalis<\/em>). Is it attracted to a possible mate or to the dull red haws, which are rich in tannins, flavonoids, oligomeric proanthocyanidins, phenolic acids, and antioxidants?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The Scots saying “Ne’er cast a cloot til Mey’s oot”<\/em> conveys a warning not to shed any cloots (clothes) before the summer has fully arrived and the Mayflowers (hawthorn blossoms) are in full bloom, which \u2013 frankly \u2013 must make things as \u201caromatic\u201d (in its own way) as the railway carriage which we\u2019ve left behind us. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In the diminishing light from the entrance, Dildo and Oscar could already see heaps of detritus lying about the cave. Without too much scrutiny, one could see among the worryingly large droppings a fair amount of miscellaneous skeletal remains, coinage of various value and antique furniture which had seen better days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Dildo, however, was drawn to one object in particular and, picking it up, saw that it was a hefty tome bound in gold and silver, obviously crafted by elves of the highest magical order, and written in large bold letters on the cover were the reassuring words ‘DON’T GET IN A TIZZ’. ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Dildo held the book in both hands, with a look of reverence and awe on his fuzzy features.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cHave you got any idea what volume this is?!\u201d he asked Oscar, in a hushed voice (as opposed to whispering). \u201cGive me a few minutes to be quite sure, but I BELIEVE that I\u2019m holding the fabled \u2018The Hitchhiker\u2019s Guide To Muddled Earth\u2019, for which I\u2019ve been searching all my adult life\u201d ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Alright\u2026 I might as well be hibernating. Here he is, People: Oscar<\/em> bloody Wilde.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cIf you are not long, I will wait for you all my life,\u201d I reassured my cross-dressing companion. \u201cIn this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.\u201d ~ OFOWW<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Between the overhanging foliage, we espy a reddish and grey-brown roe deer doe (Capreolus capreolus capreolus<\/em>). She has come to drink from the stream at the bottom of the slope, where it bends and forms a wide, shallow pool. Completely unaware of our presence, she is a beautiful example of the species, which was once classified as belonging to the Cervinae<\/strong><\/em> subfamily, but are now classified as part of the Odocoileinae<\/strong><\/em>, which includes the deer from the New World. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The young doe\u2019s head snaps around to glare at her audience and in hushed, not whispering, but angry tones she says \u2018Oh, completely unaware am I, Mr Nature Expert? Have you ever tried to coquettishly attract a passing handsome prince while trapped as a smelly old deer, hmm? It\u2019s very hard to focus on finding the perfect spot of dappled sunlight and batting my suspiciously princessy eyelashes with you staring at me, so, unless you\u2019re the Prince of Wonderland, please beggar off back to your own plotline\u2019. ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Oh, Lordy! Someone\u2019s gone and woken up Billy, and he\u2019s decided to join the discussion outdoors. He loves this dodge of maidens in disguise! He flogged it to death before he died, and now he\u2019s up for more.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Then spake again the princess as doe bedeck\u2019d: \u201cPresume not that I am the thing I was.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But one of the azure birds enjoined: \u201cBe not afraid of doeness, for some are born does, some achieve doeness, and others have doeness thrust upon them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cBut this would I say to you, forsooth, even this above all: to thine own self be true,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And it must follow, as the night the day,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Thou canst not then be false to any man.\u201d ~ WS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [I suspect that Bill was having a \u201csiesta\u201d with The Austen, because she\u2019s also showed up at the same time.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The doe blushed but replied not without, decision \u201cThe more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a roebuck whom I can really love. I require so much!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cAnd it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single prince in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.\u201d ~ JA<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    With all the talking animals and zombies (Homo sapiens nondefunctus<\/em>) thrashing about in the undergrowth, is it at all surprising that three sneaky, creepy, slinking literary agents (Homo agentus literatus<\/em>) have slinked creepily and sneakily from under a large, moss-covered rock without being noticed?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And I seem to having a spell of d\u00e9j\u00e0 \u00e9crit<\/em>! Can one plagiarise oneself? ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Bill\u2019s still at it, but he\u2019s moved his gaze to the cave\/passage\/tunnel where he\u2019s found Dildo fondling a book and Oscar fondling\u2026 his ego.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Dildo clench\u2019d his eyes and said: \u201cTo hitchhike, or not to hitchhike: that is the question: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Whether \u2019tis nobler in the mind to suffer<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The stoppings and startings of outrageous railways,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Or to stick out your thumb against a sea of lorries,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And by this opposing appendage stop them?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    To ride: to pay No more; and, by this ride to say we end<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    That train passengers are heir to, \u2019tis a consummation<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Devoutly to be wish\u2019d. To hitch, to ride;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    To ride: perchance with a madman: ay, there\u2019s the rub.\u201d ~ WS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [And Oscar\u2019s beat Jane to my email account this time. Tennis, Anyone?]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    My peculiar companion was NOT reading the book, so, to give him a nudge, I said: \u201cIf one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And, as he had brought up the subject of the evils of railway journeys, I gave him this piece of glorious advice: \u201cI never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.\u201d ~ OFOWW<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The bewitched princess, catching the scent of zombies (or perhaps of the literary agents) on the breeze, and succumbing to a deer\u2019s shyness and instinctive fear, vanishes into the woods on the far side of the stream. Or maybe the princess (before her transformation) was an aspiring writer (aren\u2019t we all?!<\/strong>) and is acting under the influence of an equally instinctive fear of unscrupulous literary agents. (You see: having read the manuscript to which THIS is the prequel, I recognise these creepy sneaks [AKA sneaky creeps] as the trio who will dig up poor Jane Austen, bring her to undeadness, enslave her\u2026 and inflict her on the rest of us [if they haven\u2019t will have had done so already].) ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In fact, as a human, the princess had been known to be shy but had found that walking around nude all day as a deer had cured her of such social anxieties and she firmly planned to be quite outrageous when she returned to her human form for, as they say, when you accept that the universe is matter changing from thingies into whatnot then wearing stripes with plaid becomes easy<\/em>. For now however, her current skittish endocrine system ruled and sent her on evasive manoeuvres through the woods in a manner most unbecoming and as she pondered how to flee more adorably she plopped clumsily, but somewhat cutely, into a trap. Panting for breath, she caught the scent of aftershave nearby. ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [And now Jane has jumped the gun by hacking MY e-mail!]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Master Buggins was for a moment transported by, rapture as he exclaimed: \u201cI declare after all there is no enjoyment like hitchhiking! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a motor carriage! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if it is not an excellent camping van.\u201d ~ JA<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Here\u2019s a turn-up for the books! Bill is taking over Oscar\u2019s part of the dialogue.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThere is no motor either good or bad, but tinkering makes it so,\u201d sayed Oscar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThe fault, dear Buggins, is not in our cars, but in ourselves, that we are under the leaking brake line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cAll the world’s a mechanic\u2019s,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And all the men and women merely drivers;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    They have their \u2018last exit<\/strong>\u2019s and their breakdowns;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And one man in his time pays for many spare parts,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    His bills reaching seven pages.\u201d ~ WS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The zombies, literary agents, blue tits, and deer princess having left the scene, for a while there is complete silence, and one could almost imagine oneself in a world before KFC<\/strong>, CocaCola<\/strong>, or MacDonald\u2019s<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But, after a short respite, the tranquillity is broken \u2013 though none too harshly \u2013 by a young girl (Homo sapiens sapiens<\/em>) running after a white rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus<\/em>, and I would hazard a guess that it\u2019s a \u201cBlanc de Bouscat<\/strong>\u201d, though it\u2019s difficult to be absolutely certain at this distance), which latter is unaccountably wearing a waistcoat and carrying in one paw a pair of white, kid-leather gloves. Quite suddenly, the rabbit pops into the cave into which, earlier, Oscar and Dildo disappeared, and in another moment in goes the young girl after it, apparently never once considering how in the world she is to get out again, after facing the dragon. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    She had not a moment to think before stumbling slightly but, the tunnel not being very precipitous, she was obliged to roly poly for the desired effect. As she passed, she noticed the passage was lined with treasures and other miscellanies and took down a jar labelled \u2018Avocado\u2019 but to her great disappointment it was empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u2018Well\u2019 she thought to herself. \u2018After such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of performing a floor routine at the olympics.\u2019 ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Happening suddenly upon Oscar and Dildo (and startling them considerably in the process), the young girl politely enquired which way she ought to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” Dildo replied rather smugly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “I need to catch up with that damn rabbit…” she fumed, “as he’s stolen my best waistcoat and gloves!” ~ LT<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Now Lewis has gone and hacked my<\/strong> account\u2026]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Suddenly Alice \u2013 for it was none other \u2013 came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and her first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the tunnel; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    However, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest pile of treasure you ever saw\u2026 with an enormous, blue dragon sitting on the top with its legs folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else. ~ LC <\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Alright, Bill, if you must<\/strong>\u2026]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cBut, soft! what smoke through yonder doorway snakes?\u201d swoon\u2019d Dildo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cIt is from Collins\u2019 Finest Blend of Turkish and Virginian Leafs, Marinated in Cherry Brandy, and the smoker is Smug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cTwo tobaccos, both alike in toxicity<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In foul Homealone Mountain, where we lay our scene,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    From soaking in cherry brandy break to new mutiny<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Where dragon breath makes all the air unclean.\u201d ~ WS <\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Was I right or was I right about the cherry-brandy-flavoured pipe tobacco?! OK, so I got it SLIGHTLY wrong about the pipe; but a hookah is a kind<\/strong> of pipe\u2026 and for people even more smug than ordinary-pipe smokers OR those who smoke Gauloises sans filtre<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The dragon (Dracus dracus terribilis<\/em>) is living up* to its name! * up, down, or all around ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Dildo, having no intention of acquiring a second overly loquacious companion, simply watched the frilly chatterbox scutter about disappear before scooping up a handful of delightfully engraved rings and announcing to Oscar that it was time for a Long Dark Teatime. Having diverse tastes, Oscar and Dildo consulted their new book as to the best establishment to order both a nice pot of tea and a glass of absinthe for the book was none other than the \u2018Richness Efficient Tourist\u2019s Usher Resource Notes to Other Zones\u2019, the Return to Oz. So guided, they left the gloominess of the lair and began their journey for the Restaurant at the End of the Novel. ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Or, at least that was their INTENTION; but as soon as they reached the stream at the bottom of the slope outside and tried to cross it, a Level Four Forcefield\u00ae stopped them in their tracks, and they heard a stern voice (which Dildo immediately recognised as belonging to his mentor [aka puppetmaster], Glandhalf The Greybeard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cTHERE IS NO ESCAPING YOUR DESTINY! YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH THE DRAGON SMUG, AND YOU WILL ATTEND!<\/strong>\u201d ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cWhat I can\u2019t escape is that guy Glandhalf!\u201d muttered Dildo to his new acquaintance. \u201cI swear that he even watches me when I\u2019m having a dump!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201dI HEARD THAT!<\/strong>\u201d ~ EvD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Something which \u2013 in all my minutes of nature study\/commentary \u2013 I\u2019ve never seen before happens now: a Homo sapiens sapiens<\/em> and a Hobbitus vulgaris hortensius<\/em> moving backwards at a pronounced angle to the vertical WITHOUT moving their feet! In fact, one could almost imagine them being dragged up the slope by an invisible hand \u2013 if one believed in such things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Once at the mouth of the cave they dive (again: backwards) \u2013 or are flung? \u2013 into it. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    As he picked pebbles and trinkets out of his crevices, Dildo pondered the words of Fauxcrates who said that reality was only perceived by the shadows cast on the wall of the cave<\/em> and wondered, given his mysterious confinement to the cave, whether he was less perceiver and more shadow<\/em> but then he picked what appeared to be one of Oscar\u2019s eyeballs off his pants and that felt pretty real. Hobbits are notoriously displeased with missing their teatime so it was a grumpy pair who resolved to confront their so-called Destiny quickly, marching resolutely after Alice while looking up \u2018How do you solve a problem like Dracona?\u2019 in the \u2018Poor Wayfarer\u2019s Chaperone for Travels through Unfamiliar Environments\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Their harumph was entirely dissipated, however, when they were confronted by the sight of what Alice was doing to Smug. ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Four characters arrived at the foot of the hill just in time to witness the second entrance of Oscar and Dildo into the cave. Two were four-legged, each carrying a two-legged creature on its back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Six minutes later, Jane Austen (zombie) stumbled back into the scene, with a vacant look in her eye sockets. ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Mentioning one zombie seems to have called forth another, because Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (b. 1547, d. 1616, z. 2022) has just hacked my e-mail account.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u00abSe\u00f1or\u00bb dijo Sancho, \u00aby \u00bfes buena regla de caballer\u00eda que andemos perdidos por estas monta\u00f1as, sin senda ni camino, buscando a un loco, al cual, despu\u00e9s de hallado, quiz\u00e1 le vendr\u00e1 en voluntad de acabar lo que dej\u00f3 comenzado, no de su cuento, sino de la cabeza de vuestra merced y de mis costillas, acab\u00e1ndonoslas de romper de todo punto?\u00bb<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u00abCalla, te digo otra vez, Sancho\u00bb dijo don Quijote; \u00abporque te hago saber que no s\u00f3lo me trae por estas partes el deseo de hallar al loco, cuanto el que tengo de hacer en ellas una haza\u00f1a, con que he de ganar perpetuo nombre y fama en todo lo descubierto de la tierra; y ser\u00e1 tal, que he de echar con ella el sello a todo aquello que puede hacer perfecto y famoso a un andante caballero.\u00bb<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Luego, dirigiose a la no difunta se\u00f1orita Austen ans\u00ed: \u00ab\u00a1Oh princesa Dulcinea, se\u00f1ora deste cautivo coraz\u00f3n, mucho agravio me habedes fecho en despedirme y reprocharme con el riguroso afincamiento de mandarme no parecer ante la vuestra fermosura.\u00bb ~ MdCS [For those of you who don\u2019t understand late 16th \/ early 17th century Spanish, here is a translation:]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cSe\u00f1or,\u201d said Sancho, \u201cand is it a good rule of chivalry that we should go astray through these mountains without path or road, looking for a madman who when he is found will perhaps take a fancy to finish what he began, not his story, but your worship\u2019s head and my ribs, and end by breaking them altogether for us?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cSilence, I say again, Sancho,\u201d said Don Quixote, \u201cfor let me tell thee it is not so much the desire of finding that madman that leads me into these regions as that which I have of performing among them an achievement wherewith I shall win eternal name and fame throughout the known world; and it shall be such that I shall thereby set the seal on all that can make a knight-errant perfect and famous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Then he directed himself to the undead Miss Austen thus: \u201cO Princess Dulcinea, lady of this captive heart, a grievous wrong hast thou done me to drive me forth with scorn, and with inexorable obduracy banish me from the presence of thy beauty.\u201d ~ MdCS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    A Eurasian red squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris<\/em>) skitters down the trunk of an English Oak (also named common oak, pedunculate oak, or European oak, Quercus robur<\/em>) scurries a few metres across the ground, raises itself upright and chitters at the equestrians (Homo sapiens ibericus<\/em>) and their mounts (Equus ferus caballus<\/em> and Equus africanus asinus<\/em>, respectively). It is the last mistake it will ever make.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    With a rapidity which belies her not-actually-aliveness, Jane Austen (Homo literatus non difunctus<\/em>) snatches up the squirrel, converts it into an ex-squirrel, then a tasty between-mealtimes snack, leaving nothing but its bushy nether appendage, or \u2013 as I can\u2019t resist calling it \u2013 its grim furry tail. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Having finished her crunchy snack, The Austen looked up, saw the expression of dopey adoration on the face of Don Quijote, and hobbled into the cave to escape his obvious, amorous intentions, where, hearing the hubbub of voices further down, and sniffing the odour of undead tobacco emanating from a door in the side of the passage, she decided to investigate further.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    It is only fair to our readers to explain at this point that, although Alice had vainly tried the little golden key in the locks of all of the normal-sized doors, she HADN\u2019T tried to simply turn their doorknobs. Not one of them was locked, so \u2013 after she had wormed her way down what Mr. Carroll was pleased to tell us was \u201ca small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole\u201d \u2013 Oscar had sashayed over to another door, opened it, and (ever the gentleman) waved Dildo through it\u2026 himself following at a prudent distance. ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [While Oscar was occupied in \u201cleading from the rear\u201d, The Austen managed to get to my e-mail account\u2026 again.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    A true gentlewoman brought up well by, stern but tenderloving parents to be modest and equable, should always be ready to, modify her earlier statements of absolute truths and with that, as my motto, I now am, quite willing to substitute an earlier averring by myself to the following: \u201cI declare after all there is no enjoyment like spelunking! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a dank, dark cave! — When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not a mould-covered, malodorous cellar, especially one inhabited by a dragon if it be of good family.\u201d ~ JA<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [As managing editor of this project, I would like to point out that \u2013 at this point in our narrative \u2013 there are exactly a dozen authors working on it: six of the living persuasion and half-a-dozen hacking-savvy zombies. Since no new living writers seem inclined to join in and the zombies are signing up in ever-increasing numbers, one could project that this will soon be an undead-dominated novel. I merely mention this, not wishing to offend nor one side of the grave nor the other. One could<\/strong> say that literary celebrities are undying like flies. Facts is facts, as my grandfather used to say.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    It might not have escaped the attention of others than myself, that we are also now in a tie situation vis-a-vis gender participation, six female writers and an equal number of males being on the team.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    However it is a curious fact that five of the male authors are no longer legally among the living, while there is only one female zombie involved in our creative enterprise.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Which curiosity leads me to consider the possibility \u2013 and I must stress that it is merely a POSSIBILITY \u2013 that either Jimmy Hollis i Dickson is, in fact, a zombie\u2026 OR that Jane Austen never really died at all, and has been (for some reason unknown to this poor editor) hiding out all this time in the best of health… OR both eventualities.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But enough speculation! We return to our tale. Which might not be completely furry, nor absolutely grim, but contains occasional patches of both qualities. ~ EvD]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Don Quijote (Homo demens innoxius<\/em>) dismounted from his nag (Equus ferus crapulus<\/em>), removed his helmet (alias a 16th century, Spanish barber\u2019s basin), held it against his heart, and knelt on the sloping ground, ordering Sancho to do likewise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cO Dulcinea of Toboso, fairest of the fair, jewel among women, and brightest star in the night sky; yea: who makes the dark night seem like brightest day, allow me to follow you into that cave with my faithful squire, Sancho, for I would follow you unto the very ends of the earth in order to aid and succour thee,\u201d he prayed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Sancho Panza\u2019s donkey turned to Quijote\u2019s nag and brayed: \u201cThese yoomens is bat-shit crazy!\u201d ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u2018Meat-Product-Inna-Bun?\u2019 interrupted the ubiquitous purveyor of mysterious street food. \u2018Guaranteed 90% ingredients, minimal donkey, something for everyone, long lasting energy for magical quests and so affordable I\u2019m cutting me own throat though I wouldn\u2019t do that in front your lady friend, eh? What\u2019s goin\u2019 on \u2019ere then?\u2019 ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The ingenious hidalgo<\/em>\u00b9 Don Quijote spared barely a second to glance at the grease-spattered vendor of carnal\u00b2 delights, before returning to his entreaties to Dulcinea (alias Jane Austen [zombie]), his dreamy gaze fixed on the mouth of the dragon\u2019s cave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But Sancho Panza\u00b3 licked his lips and ordered \u201cTwo buckets of Meat-Product-Inna-Bun, por favor<\/em>\u00ba! I\u2019m afraid that you\u2019re not going to be able to sell any to my master: he has sworn not to let food nor drink pass his lips (save for dry bread and water) until his lady Dulcinea has been released from her enchantment.\u201d ~ WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u00b9 hidalgo<\/em> from hijo de algo<\/em> (son of something [or other]), a very minor member of the nobility<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u00b2 carnal from the Latin carnale, carnalis (things of the flesh), therefore carnal delights = meaty pleasures<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u00b3 panza<\/em> is an antiquated Spanish word for belly. Panza was a nickname given to our good Sancho by his fellow villagers because of his adoration of food.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u00ba por favor<\/em> = please<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThere\u2019s plenty of dry bread in them Meat-Product-Inna-Bun buckets, I assure you!\u201d argued their purveyor, still hopeful of a further sale. \u201cI use the bits without visible mould for the buns, see, and the \u2018meat-product\u2019 is \u2013 between you, me, and the doorpost \u2013 60% dry bread. Your boss could eat \u2019em without hardly breaking his promise, near as dammit, watcha say?\u201d ~ EvD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Sancho arose from his kneeling position (for, although his master, Don Quijote, had ordered him to kneel, his even-greater master, his panza<\/em>, had ordered him to take possession of the two buckets of Meat-Product-Inna-Bun, which the vendor was holding out towards him), pressed two coins into the iffy-meat merchant\u2019s greasy palm, sat down \u2013 with a great sigh and a loud fart for good manners (and to make more room within his gut) \u2013 with his back against a sessile oak tree (Quercus petraea<\/em>), and began to feed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cHere, you, these ain\u2019t legal tend\u2026\u201d began the salesman, but cut himself short while examining the two coins more closely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Although a crafter-purveyor of questionably edible creations by training and trade, he was, in his spare time, a passionate amateur numismatist, and quickly realised that what the shabby squire had paid with for his [currently single-minded and noisy] repast were two silver half-reals, dating from late 16th century Castile\u2026 each easily worth (to any disreputable collector) his average year\u2019s Income-Inna-Bun. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Caught in the act of spelunking with the fiery creature, Alice blushed furiously as Dildo and Oscar gaped at her dishevelled appearance. \u201cI do<\/strong> wish I hadn\u2019t drunk quite so much!\u201d she muttered defensively. The aptly named dragon simply smirked. ~ LT<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    His orations complete, Don Quijote crossed himself, rose (Rosa amblyophylla<\/em>, ha ha ha, Jimmy!) to his feet, glanced at his squire Sancho but realised that it would be virtually impossible (or possibly dangerous) to attempt to separate him from the two buckets held lovingly to his breast, and \u2013 commending himself to God \u2013 strode up the slope and disappeared into the cave, in search of his lady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    He found her in a smoke-filled cavern deep in the mountain, in the company of<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    one (1) 19th century dandy (undead),<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    one (1) furry-footed being, dressed in a nun\u2019s garments,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    one (1) young girl, looking sheepish,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    one (1) white rabbit, wearing a waistcoat and fanning itself, and<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    one (1) dragon, taking occasional and large puffs of noxious smoke from a hookah.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Don Quijote had fought windmills, enchanters, and a flock of sheep, so fighting a smoke-breathing dragon for the glory of Dulcinea was not a challenge that he was about to refuse! ~WL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Oh mercy, here\u2019s Billy Boy putting in his farthing\u2019s worth!]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But, marry, the foolish nobleman had left his steed without the cavern!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cA horse, a horse: my kingdom for a horse!\u201d he cried. \u201cOnce more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; or close the chamber up with our Spanish dead!\u201d ~ WS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Having made an exhaustive mental inventory of all the slope\u2019s flora and fauna (and being somewhat disturbed by the uncouth sounds resultant from se\u00f1or Panza\u2019s indelicate eating habits), I descend to the stream, cross it, and enter the woods beyond its further bank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    A pileated woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus<\/em>) immediately rewards my decision to wander into its territory by regaling me with its well-known song of greeting, \u201cHeh-heh-heh-HEH<\/strong>-heh, heh-heh-heh-HEH<\/strong>-heh, HEHHEHHEHHEHHEHHEHHEH: it\u2019s the Woody Woodpecker Show!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    While searching the panoply of the surrounding trees (a mixture of Quercus robur<\/em>, Pinus sylvestris<\/em>, Pinus radiata<\/em>, and Betula pendula<\/em>) for a glimpse of this magnificently patterned avian, I fail to pay attention to where I\u2019m walking, and suddenly, the ground absent beneath my leading foot, I find myself falling into a pit, and landing next to our recent acquaintance, the roe-deer-princess (Capreolus capreolus capreolus<\/em> var. princeps<\/em>)! ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    ‘If you must<\/strong> keep talking about me,’ advised the deer, \u2018I\u2019d rather you called me something else like The Youngest (everybody calls me that coz I\u2019m so obviously good and clever and undeniably deserving) although I quite fancy being called Mathilda the Mighty even though everyone says it doesn\u2019t suit me and it\u2019ll put off princes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    ‘If you help me get out of this pit I\u2019m sure you\u2019ll receive a mystically appropriate reward to help you with your\u2026quest? I\u2019d do it myself but these deer feet thingies are terrible for fashioning rope plus I\u2019m not at all sure if I\u2019m supposed to be rescuing myself or not as I\u2019m not quite sure what my ultimate allegory is, you see? ~ VF<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    At this point in our tale, a new person(?) has applied to join our writing team: someone identifying themselves as \u201ctiny petite nude babe\u201d and who graciously supplied us with their website URL.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    One of the team was delegated to visit said website, but \u2013 perhaps unfortunately \u2013 the words \u201ctiny\u201d, \u201cpetite\u201d, and \u201cbabe\u201d appear to have had a cumulative effect and rendered this entity microscopic. Nobody was visible, whether nude or clothed as a victorian vicar\u2019s wife, making it impossible to classify this applicant as either among the living or one of our undead collaborators.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    In addition, tiny petite nude babe\u2019s text contribution to this project \u2013 although sufficiently salacious \u2013 presented several problems, to wit: (1) the spelling and grammar were atrocious, (2) the punctuation was even worse than The Austen\u2019s, (3) it had NOTHING to do with any of the various plots in the current opus (which, in itself, is no deal-breaker\u2026 but even Ois\u00edn provided a slim bridge to his otherwise 100% non sequitur), and (4) it trampled all over the 3-sentencer maximum rule.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    A vote was taken amongst all the members of our writing community, and \u2013 although Messrs. Wilde, Tolkien, and Shakespeare were in favour of admitting this microscopic newcomer to our happy band (and were all willing to tutor her in \u201cthe rules of the game\u201d), and 2 of our fellowship (Ois\u00edn and Mia Creely have very busy schedules) didn\u2019t get their votes in before a convincing majority had been established \u2013 the rest of us voted nay. 7 nays, 3 ayes, 2 non-voters.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    So there you have it, microscopic naked youngster, Democracy<\/strong> has spoken and you are out. Better luck elsewhere!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    For those readers who would like tiny petite nude babe\u2019s URL, you should address your enquiries to Ms. Austen (deceased and rebooted), which will, alas, only be possibe if YOU sign on as a member of our collective and get your email account hacked by her.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    (You may take consolation in the fact that the aforementioned website is really not worth visiting.)<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    End of this interjection from the editor.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [The greatest poet in the English language (well, that’s my<\/strong> opinion, and you’re welcome to your own… though there is a simple way to resolve this issue: shall we say drawn bayonets at dawn at the north-east end of Cudby Yaw Primary School’<\/a>s playing field?) has hacked my email.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Smug and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the dragon took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThe time has come,\u201d the dragon said,\u201cTo talk of many a thing:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Of clues, and clips, and ceiling cracks;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Of be-bop, blues, and swing;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And why this hobbit wears nun’s clothes<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    …And if I have the RING.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Alice folded her hands, and began: –<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cYou are old, Smug The Dragon,\u201d the young girl said,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cAnd your scales have become very white;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And yet you incessantly smoke in your bed –<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Do you think, at your age, it is right?\u201d ~ LC<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [And now the most overrated<\/strong> poet in the English language has hacked MY email account and is quoting from his foul drivel glorifying femicide!]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    It was the mention of that word \u201cbed\u201d which moved me to share with the company some little verse of my own (for I am not very good at drawing \u2013 bayonets nor any other object \u2013 the spoken and written word being my forte) which I trust the reader will find not only apposite but also edifying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cHe did not wear his scarlet coat,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    For blood and wine are red,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And blood and wine were on his hands<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    When they found him with the dead,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    The poor dead woman whom he loved,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And murdered in her bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cDear Dildo! these very cavern walls<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Suddenly seem to reel,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And its roof above my head becomes<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Like a casque of scorching steel;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    And, though I am a zombie in pain,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    My pain I can not feel.\u201d ~ OFOWW<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Princess Roe The Youngest and I look at each other for some time in silence: at last I take some moss out of my mouth, and address her in a languid, sleepy voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThe fact may have escaped your notice, Mathilda the Mighty, that \u2013 although whichever hunter who dug this trap has kindly provided a deep bed of red bogmoss (Sphagnum capillifolium<\/em>) to cushion our respective falls into it \u2013 his or her generosity has not extended to providing us with any suitable material out of which to braid a rope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cHowever, the smell of aftershave seems to be growing stronger, leading me to surmise that he (or very possibly she) is approaching ever nearer, so \u2013 not wishing to be found in this embarrassing (and potentially dangerous) situation \u2013 I\u2019m going to make use of my superpower as a co-writer of this opus, and whisk us both back to the train carriage, where (I\u2019m sure) the noxious fumes will have dissipated by now. ~ JHiD<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Well, well, well: Ois\u00edn has decided to return! I was wondering what had happened to him…]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ansin labhair m\u00e9 d\u00e1 bhr\u00ed sin leis na a ch\u00e9ile:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “M\u00e1s \u00e9 an fhil\u00edocht an aoibhneas at\u00e1 agat,ansin t\u00e1 s\u00e9 seo ag caint leis seo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    “Nochomtha n\u00ed radim de<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    im d\u00e1la meic Deictire,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    iss\u00ed mo chobais, ni g\u00f3,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    con corrossid dobanr\u00f3. ~ O<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [Translation<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Then spake I thus to those assembled:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cIf poetry is your delight, then hark at this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cMore than this I’ve naught to say,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    As concerns Dechtird’s son;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    My belief, in troth, is this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Ye will now meet with your fate.\u201d ~ O] <\/p>\n\n\n\n

    [And now Billy has stepped up to the challenge of this Battle Of The Poets. But I\u2019m afraid that he\u2019s scored an own goal, by trying to rhyme \u201clove\u201d with \u201cremove\u201d. And the scanning seems a little wobbly to me.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cLet me not to the marriage of true minds<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Admit impediments. Love is not love<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Which alters when it alteration finds,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Or bends with the remover to remove.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    O no, it is an ever-fixed mark<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    That looks on tempests and is never shaken;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    It is the star to every wand’ring barque,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.\u201d ~ WS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    Explanation: This is a collaborative-writing project, to which YOU, Dear Reader, are invited to contribute! Yes: join our wacky team of living and undead authors in creating a novel with more twists than a waist-length braid. Whether you define yourself as a writer (or illustrator) and are suffering from writer’s\/illustrator’s block, or want to relax… Continue reading The Habit<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-26","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=26"}],"version-history":[{"count":44,"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":383,"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26\/revisions\/383"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=26"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=26"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/la-granota.com\/blogs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=26"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}