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This message For the attention of the Probability Dancer was posted by Donar, Gav & Visioneery. on Tuesday, February 4, 2003 at 02:10.
A note in 3 parts, as follows.
DONAR: Hail to thee, graceful one. Long has it been since mine eyes have come to rest upon thy visage, though dost look well. It seems the mortal who doth allow me speech wishes to pass on a message of his own, so I shall not delayeth him. Know well that regardless of the mortal's words, the Oldmanson doth wish well of thee, and of all those he calls friend here. E'en the coatrack.
GAV. Ok, so here it goes in a quick painless manner, much like the proverbial Band-Aid. (The sticky plaster thing, not the concert.)As much as I've tried to complete the tale of your upcoming/past semi-nuptuals with the Wangmeister, I fall short and end up pulling my hair and banging my head in my hands (note, this hurts more when you have an eyebrow piercing).
I've had writer's block before, but this is the Allfather of them. I can't write anymore. I've given it much thought and think I know why.
The Past.
The past hurts. As much as the present is great and good and has fluffy bunnies in green fields and the sun warming my face every day, the past still hurts. I can't write Donar and Troia, to put it simply. They were shadows of myself and Mel, and as much as I still care about her, and wish her well, I can't wax lyrical about our alter-egos without feeling wrong about it, be it retrospectively or nay. Fact is, you always end up hurting those closest to you, and when you realise you're holding someone back and they're not the One you have to make a selfish choice. I did. I would make it again. But it still ended up causing pain.
So. This is why Donar stays in Ausgard for the most part. This is why he had to go there. And it's why I can't finish this story as much as I'd like to.
Sorry Shep. Donar's left the building.
VISIONEERY.
Yes. Well. A tad o'erdramatic, but but he speaks true.
I have here for your archives the account written before this realisation srpang forth into the aforementioned mortal's mind and ruined a promising writing career. No. Really. On some amoebic planets this is considered quite good.
I digress..I present for you now something I liketh to call "Donar's Unfinished Symphony."
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Dancer/Donar Special Commemorative Wedding Edition #17
Lo, for I am the Visioneery, he who sees things and talks of them, usually after one too many meads and even after being told numerous times to shut one's trap. Many of these seeings have yet to pass and others have passed quite some time ago. It's a lot like Nick at Nite, so I'm told, seeing as the seeings aren't worth seeing once, lest alone nine time a week. Regardless, among these things once seen was a wedding. There was also a honeymoon, but I'm sure Ag's kids might read this and we don't want to damage them mentally. Aye, it would be fun, says my Lord Donar, to mention honeymoon acts in the presence of the Wyrmed one, but now is not the time for fun. Tis time for a recap of a recap. Of a recap. Of a summary of a recap.
Once many many..um..URLs ago, there was a maiden fair by the name of Dancer. She came to the Parodyverse many moons ago after losing her way, and thought she could find happiness in the one called Bubba. Many others, however, wanted to find other things in Bubba. Things like their fists and broken bottles and talking knives and such. It seems Bubba was not well liked among the menfolk, and he eventually died, or left or something. None can truly remember for the second he was gone they did their bestest to erase him from their brains to make more room for sports statistics, Playmate measurements and remembering to breathe.
However that is niether here nor there. As Donar tells me, the ending to this tale of deception began near the ending..it went a little something like this:
It was just after11 when Donar and Troia arrived at the mansion, Troia clutching the scraled rain-soaked note they had received the night before firmly in her hand.
"I'll get right on this, see if I can figure out what's goin' on." the Amazonian commented.
"Might try searching for 'Wang' on Google. See what springs up."
"Verily." Agreed the Thndergod. "And I shalt head henceforth for the church, and stalleth for time."
In the chapel it was hot. And wet. The rain from the night before had hardly let up, and even if it was in Donar's power to do something about it, he apparently didn't wish to.
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VISIONEERY.
SO there you have it. Quite the cliffhanger, if he couldst force the rest out of his head. I doubt he shall however. You'd best forge on without him.
Good Luck.
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