Roleplay By Monologues

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In Post Number 8,000 for Copperfox, all the Mods rushed to the scene to assure everyone that Melkor's reference to "black" was not a racial slur, because of course it wasn't. But with Barack Obama shamelessly playing the race card at every opportunity, it had to be said for the record.
 
In ancient China, there lived a noble kung-fu master known as The Jade Eagle. A widower, his one comfort in life was his cherished daughter Shaolin-derella. Jade Eagle, too noble himself to expect treachery from others, married another woman in order to give his daughter a stepmother; but the new bride was really an agent for the evil Shadow Tigers, a band of assassins who had suffered many humiliating defeats at the hands of Jade Eagle. She admitted fifty killers into the house one night less than a week after the wedding; Jade Eagle slew forty-nine of them, but the last one fatally stabbed him in the back.

Shaolin-derella lived for months in bondage to her evil stepmother and stepsisters. But when she prayed for help to Kuan-Yin, the Chinese goddess of mercy, Kuan-Yin appeared to her and taught her the one kung-fu technique her father had not gotten around to teaching her before his death: the fabulous Glass Slipper Kick. Then Kuan-Yin advised her on the best way to use this to advantage.

It so happened that Prince Chao-Ming was looking for a wife; and he actually WANTED to marry a woman who could BEAT him in at least one style of fighting. The reason why Chao-Ming desired this was that, because he was a prince, training partners were always just letting him win in matches--but he wanted someone who would FORCE him to improve his own ability. So a tournament was held: Chao-Ming against any unmarried kung-fu lady who cared to take him on.

Since the Prince was by no means without real skill, he defeated every contestant, including the two evil stepsisters; but then Shaolin-derella defeated him with the Glass Slipper kick. She couldn't stay; but the Prince went searching for her, inviting women to kick him as a way of identifying the maiden he sought. When he found Shaolin-derella and had her kick him, that was the first kick in the search that had succeeded in knocking him down. Springing up joyfully, Chao-Ming cried out, "I love you! Kick me again!" But NOT being a 21st-century American woman, Shaolin-derella took no pleasure in kicking a man without valid cause; instead, she urged the Prince simply to get right to the marriage part.

Seeing her schemes going down the drain, the evil stepmother called in the remaining fifty or sixty Shadow Tigers to attack the happy couple. But Shaolin-derella and Chao-Ming together killed all the villains--including the stepmother and stepsisters, who had joined in the attack; and, since the Communists would not rise to power in China for many centuries yet, they lived happily ever after.
 
At this point a hapless old man joined the RP that was, unfortunately for him, replete with thirteen-year-old-girls playing evil warriors and Queens. Before this poor sap had time to reply to one post (because he wanted to make it meaningful and have some kind of plot and direction) the other players had already defeated the Shadow Tigers, the stepmother and stepsisters, Chao-Ming, Shaolin-derella, and even Kuan-Yin, the goddess of mercy and had crowned themselves queens of the universe, all in one post.
 
The hapless old man finally got some respect, though: from Emmett the gunslinger and the Navy veteran, who both were brought up to respect BOTH their elders, AND a coherent plot for a story. They all went to Emmett's Gunslinger Steakhouse for some prime rib; later, in turn, the sailor hosted the other two, and Barbarian King besides, at his vegetarian restaurant, which he had named the Octopus Garden.
 
In a different city, far away, a man sat in a darkened parked car and gazed at an equally darkened house. That door was shut and locked against him. But if he was not allowed to HAVE love, by God's grace he would still GIVE love--at places, at times, and to people, chosen by God.

Starting the motor, and starting Don Henley's "The Boys of Summer" on the CD player, he drove off toward a world of hurting people who needed him. Not one of them needed him in the way he wished to be needed; but they needed that which God would make him capable of giving effectively.

And that, after all, was far better than nothing.
 
Under the sea the world's first scuba-diving hedgehog bobbed around like a cork, unable to discern how to make any headway with four rubber flippers on his feet.

Jacques Cousteau, who was on an underwater quest that he alone understood, hollered instructions at him in a cloud of bubbles, all to no avail.
 
And that was how John Denver came to write a song in Captain Cousteau's honor: he was so impressed with the scientist's efforts to communicate with the hedghog.
 
"That's exactly what I thought," exclaimed Emmett, remembering his song "I Need A Name For My Horse" that had melted the brains of those cowboy-napping aliens.
"The ocean is a desert with it's life underground, hedgehogs, scuba divers and all of that!!"
 
The retired sailor, having given up on ever getting that Dutch lady to dance with him, was still hanging out with Emmett (the two of them being the founders of a new local restaurant-owners' association). At this point he remarked, "You know, I saw someplace where Jacques Cousteau went on record as wanting to see tyrannical and radical population control, cutting down the Earth's human population by some large percentage; yet with all his talk of 'too many people' on Earth, he still expected us to grieve with him when HIS son died in an accident."

Emmett tipped his hat back, as a more eloquent gesture than only raising eyebrows. "Hoo-ee! If that there ain't the goldarnedest textbook example of cognitive dissonance! Let's leave that owlhoot out of the next post."

"Sounds good to me," agreed the bearded sailor.
 
Far off on a distant, cacti-covered mesa a large owl stuck its head out of a slowly-tilting saguro to inquire the habitual inquiry of its kind. At least that was its plan, before Super-Duper Man came careening over the mesa with his Super-suit caught halfway between 'chop' and 'liquefy.'

"Yoiiiiiarrrrrrrriiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaarrrgggggh" he said.

The owl gave a very wise and serious consideration to this new variation on observing the world, but (being wise) chose not to adopt it.

"Who?" it faithfully asked.

Super-Duper man, sadly, had already passed out of the range of hearing, for there was little else in the world he enjoyed more than announcing who he was.
 
One of Super-Duper Man's more awkward landings brought him down beside a used-book store, where he turned up a copy of the amusing Dr. Seuss book "Scrambled Eggs Super." Not grasping that this was a fantasy for children, Super-Duper Man bought the book, then took off to begin searching for the various types of exotic eggs Dr. Seuss described. This promised to keep him busy for a longer time than the likely duration of most of the current horseback journeys of the know-it-all 13-year-old girls.
 
A fluffy bunny hopped along the road. He hopped and hopped and hopped, and eventually wished that he had the ability of Bugs Bunny in the old cartoons to step out of sight briefly and then reappear with any object he needed. If this fluffy bunny could have done that, he would have provided himself with a brand-new Subaru Outback, and then DRIVEN along the road.
 
As newly-appointed Prince of Ithilien, Faramir was responsible for clearing out remnants of evil from an ever-widening radius around Minas Tirith to the east. He took this responsibility seriously; and so he found himself with a troop of handpicked men, equipped with primitive flamethrowers devised by Dwarves for this very mission...entering the lair of Shelob. For Faramir had learned from Sam that the monstrous giant spider, though badly wounded by Sam, had still been alive when he last saw her.

Systematically, ready against all ambushes, the men of Gondor worked their way through the tunnels of Kirith Ungol. Shelob, deep in the labyrinth, had known that this hour would come; she knew her enemies would not take her lightly, but would come with overwhelming force. The evil creature knew she had only one chance to survive. She had been practicing for many weeks, ever since she had sensed the death of Sauron; and now, as she was discovered and was only seconds from being incinerated, she cried out:

"CHANGE! CHANGE!"

Instantly Faramir called off the flamethrower attack. "She said 'Change,' boys; she must not be evil after all."

So the soldiers allowed Shelob to crawl past them and down the Mordor side of the mountain. After all, how could they be against anyone who said the word 'change'?
 
As the men of Gondor fished through their chain mail pockets for spare change, the metal lint in the pockets exploded, wiped everyone out into comas, and chased after the evil one's army in attempts to get into their pockets to gather more forces.

Faramir was awoken by a silly slap to the face only to see that the silly slapper that gave the silly slap was none other than his Fairy Godmother telling him he had 10 hours left till the prom ended and he would end up as a piece of cheese for the rest of his life.
 
(Thank you, LC)


When Faramir thought he only had fifteen minutes left, and had written out his will, Aslan appeared--thanks to MGG-Took's imaginative story which had Him appearing in Middle-Earth. Since even roleplay craziness could not stop Aslan from being Almighty God, He effortlessly cancelled the cheese enchantment. Then he changed Shelob into a harmless butterfly, and said to Faramir before disappearing, "One good thing came of you getting that scare: it caused you to update your will, as every married man should do."
 
As Faramir stood there wondering what had just happened, the Fairy Godmother appeared again saying, "Well now, Sonny. Since that Lion took care of the first spell, is there any other contract you would like to make wi-." At that moment it started raining and interrupted the fairy's transmission to Faramir.

The metal lint army grew in leaps and bounds and began forming a man that could take leaps and bounds through the fairy land, white as snow and pink as gum drops while eating a candy came made up copper and ink. One would wonder at this sight, if the metal lint was sane, but it was obvious that it was since it was singing "Row, row, row your boat' it rounds all by itself while the trees swayed along with the singing, and the birds chirped happily around the metal lint as it skipped through the tulips.
 
"I say," called one of the faithful guards from the buttery, tapping Faramir on the shoulder. "Does this mean we have to cancel the cheese-and-crackers party we were going to have tonight?"

"What?!" Faramir shouted back. "I can't hear you! There's too many tulips, trees and birds singing around here!"

"What?!" the guard returned. "My lips sneed a blurb thing crowned here?"

The racket was unbearable.
 
Just in time to prevent his eardrums from being ruptured, Faramir had an inspiration. Drawing a deep breath, he shouted, "I need the other players to get back to the roleplay and actually complete the actions they said their characters were beginning to do!"

As soon as he said that, the scene became silent as the tomb, and remained so for hours afterward.
 
This was of course a perfect opportunity for certain presidential candidate to get into the act and try to talk about his plans if he was elected.

In an attempt to clarify a statement made regarding his tax plan, he came in and issued a statement, however, he forgot that everything had to be coordinated and that in order for him to sound coherent and intelligent, he had to wait for others to write his speeches. But the liberal media, still thought he sounded, oh! so wise! and quoted him thus:

"The tax... er.. presently levied to...ah... raise money for...er... the present tax base, ah... plus...ah the amount in excess of it, er... would equal the taxes that would be levied...ah... for the new tax base," explained the man.

"HE DID?" Exclaimed Emmett.

Emmett thought for a couple of seconds and then he decided to approach this candidate and said to him:

"Listen there, pardner, if you have something to say, say it, and quit messin' 'round. If you have nothing to say, say it in fewer words."
 
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The candidate's wife came into view, glowering at the gunslinger. "I know who you are," she hissed. "You're that bitter man who clings to his guns because he hates everyone different from him!"

"No," said the local parson, "actually Emmett here saved me from being murdered by some outlaws on dune buggies who were a lot closer to what you say."

The candidate's wife turned up her nose. "What could you possibly know about it?" she snapped at the parson. "You're probably a right-wing fascist!" And turning back to Emmett: "As for you, what business do YOU have even owning firearms? Those are ONLY for soldiers and the police!"

"Um, not soldiers either, baby," interjected the candidate in a stage whisper. "We're disarming all of them as soon as we can, and then we'll have the United Nations provide a security force consisting entirely of Iranian and Cuban--"

The wife spun toward her husband. "NOT YET! You can't say that until we're in power, and you've got the retired general to figure a way to make it sound good!"
 
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