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Terrence Knight looked aghast. "Are you serious?" he said incredulously. "No way! I don't sing, anyway."
Lisa mock-glared at him. "Oh, sure, we can get up there and strut our stuff for you, but you won't show off for us?"
Terrence looked pained. "Aw, Lisa, that's not what I meant... I just don't sing, is all."
Rhea set down her drink and stood, sauntering around the table to where Terrence sat nursing a glass of mineral water. Around them the party raged on; up on
the stage, Flamebinder -- introduced by Mag as "the red-hot bondage elf herself, ladies and germs!" -- enthusiastically if somewhat poorly belted out
the words to Pat Benatar's "Hell is for Children".
As Rhea passed by Lisa, she squeezed the redheads shoulder briefly, tossing her a coy wink. Then she was crouched down against Terrence, her chin on his
shoulder, lazily trailing one fingernail up and down his arm where it lay on the table. She raised her lips to Terrence ear and whispered briefly. The table
thumped.
"P-promise?" Terrence demanded hoarsely. Rhea nodded and grinned at him. He furrowed his brow in thought. "Okay!" he said at last.
"I'll do it." He drained his nearly-full glass as if it were a bracing shot of a stiff drink, and stood; Rhea stepped back and looked proud of
herself. Terrence stomped off towards the DJ booth with the same determination he displayed when battling Romans in Cimerora; relentless and willing to stop
at nothing to achieve his goal.
Rhea dropped down in Terrence's vacated chair and grinned across the table at Lisa.
"What'd you say to him?" Lisa wanted to know.
Rhea shrugged. "Oh, nothing much. I told him if he got up there and sang one song for us, really sang, then I'd let him be My Hero, who rescues the
Helpless Catgirl from the tortures of the Evil Villainess, who can only be defeated by the hero's... mighty blade." She winked.
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "He went for it?"
"Only after I told him you'd be the Evil Villainess."
"That sounds fair."
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
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Quote:"Only after I told him you'd be the Evil Villainess."
"That sounds fair."
damnit, spud, now I have to clean dr. pepper off my monitor.. and keyboard.. and desk.. and mouse..
>.
"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies
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As the most recent performer wound down, Mag felt a sharp poke in the side of his left thigh and yelped in surprise. "...The hell?" he muttered as he looked down for the cause, and spotted a small scrap of paper floating stationary about three feet off the floor. As he studied it, the paper suddenly flicked left and right several times before returning to its original position.
Giving it a dubious look, Mag reached out and plucked the paper out of the thin air that, for just a moment as he tugged on it, seemed to have quite a firm grip. Lifting it to one of the small lamps on the table where the equipment for the karaoke night rested, he saw that it was, in fact, a short note in an exquisitely precise handwriting. His eyebrows shot up into his hair when he saw the signature. and he read the entire note. Twice.
Then he looked down at where nothing apparently stood to his left. "You're serious?"
There was a firm, but not painful, poke in his leg.
"You know, nobody's going to..."
The next poke was quick and closer to painful. Mag shut up. He took a deep breath. "Okay." Turning back to his mike as the audience burst into applause. he announced, "Thank you, Terrence! Okay people, keep your seats, we've got a special request and I need the stage clear for a moment." He busied himself cuing up the requested song -- it was a wonder he had it, obscure as it was -- while watching the stage with one eye.
"Just a moment, folks," he temporized, "Gotta let our performer get up there, he's not the quickest of... Ah, and I think he's ready," Mag concluded as he saw what he had been waiting for -- the wireless microphone the others had been using suddenly picked itself up off the stool on which Terrence Knight had left it. It swung about in what Mag belatedly realized was a flourish, and with an embarrassed cough he started the track.
A rambling piano intro, not too much unlike "Heart and Soul", wandered out of the speakers and led the listeners on for a bit before settling into a catchy little tune not quite jazz and not quite ragtime but somewhere between them and heading towards Broadway musical in style.
On stage, the microphone bobbed to the beat.
Katy nudged Mag. "What's with the instrumental interlude and the bouncing mike?"
Mag chuckled. "It's not an instrumental. You just can't hear the singer."
She studied him with head tilted and brows furrowed. "I can't.. what?"
Silently he handed her the note. When she looked up with wide eyes, he gestured with his chin at Evangelia and Space Mage, who seemed to be caught somewhere between giggles and squeeing. Katy blinked. "I thought it was a gag."
Mag smiled, a bit too smugly for someone who had half-shared the same opinion up until a few minutes earlier. "Nope." The music ended and the two teenaged heroines rushed the stage, gathering up ... something invisible in their arms. Mag laughed out loud at the sight, and at the lyrics the karaoke system had displayed:
I want to be your personal penguin
I want to walk right by your side
I want to be your personal penguin
I want to travel with you far and wide
Wherever you go, I’ll go there too
Here and there and everywhere and always with you
I want to be your personal penguin
from now on...
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
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(( @.@ teh penguin appear-eth, figuratively. -standing ovation-
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((Thanks! video for those who want to hear someone with a British accent singing the song.))
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
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Heh, good going spud. Rhea will now have a costume for next halloween: glow-in-the-dark catgirl
personal penguin is full of win.
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy
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I finally got around to checking out that YouTube link, Bob.
I think I may have a hernia, now. And my coworkers... well, if I end up being escorted from the premises in a straitjacket, it's your fault.
*dies laughing*
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
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Spud: in the Crossovers that Should Not Be department - Depeche Mode - Your Own Personal Penguin
"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies
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Anybody else smell Starbucks?
12-10-2008, 10:20 PM
Quote: Wiredgeek wrote:
Spud: in the Crossovers that Should Not Be department - Depeche Mode - Your Own Personal Penguin
Thanks for the new keyboard... I suddenly need it thanks to the coffee I just blew out my nostrils.
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Quote: Wiredgeek wrote:
Spud: in the Crossovers that Should Not Be department - Depeche Mode - Your Own Personal Penguin
Reach Out and Touch Fish!
Ebony the Black Dragon
http://ebony14.livejournal.com
"Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you."
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Alistair's Songlist
Depeche Mode -- Your Own Personal Penguin
MC Hammer -- Can't Touch Fish
Bob Seger -- Old Time Ice and Snow
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
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Quote: Sofaspud wrote:
Alistair's Songlist
Depeche Mode -- Your Own Personal Penguin
MC Hammer -- Can't Touch Fish
Bob Seger -- Old Time Ice and Snow
The Bangles - Waddle Like An Alaskan
Ebony the Black Dragon
http://ebony14.livejournal.com
"Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you."
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Sofaspud Wrote:I finally got around to checking out that YouTube link, Bob.
I think I may have a hernia, now. And my coworkers... well, if I end up being escorted from the premises in a straitjacket, it's your fault.
*dies laughing* I disavow all responsibility.
BTW, I trust you noticed who the singer was? Geeze, a mere forty years since the Monkees, and he already looks like someone's grandfather.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
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Quote: Bob Schroeck wrote:
Quote: Sofaspud wrote:
I finally got around to checking out that YouTube link, Bob.
I think I may have a hernia, now. And my coworkers... well, if I end up being escorted from the premises in a straitjacket, it's your fault.
*dies laughing*
I disavow all responsibility.
BTW, I trust you noticed who the singer was? Geeze, a mere forty years since the Monkees, and he already looks like someone's grandfather.
According to IMDB, he is someone's grandfather. Two someones to be precise.
Ebony the Black Dragon
http://ebony14.livejournal.com
"Good night, and may the Good Lord take a Viking to you."
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"And now for an early Christmas present for all of you guys. Except Terrence, whom I truly pity." Mag's voice boomed out across the PA System. A moment of confusion followed, as people looked at the stage, then at Terry, then back to stage.
There was a bright flash of flame in the middle of the stage, and Enynn appeared in an abbreviated Red dress with a white faux-fur collar, a Santa hat, and ruby red heels. "BA-BOOM BA-BOOM" of a bass singer began to play out from the speakers. En grabbed the mic and began to sing.
Santa Baby,
Just slip a sable under the tree
For me.
Been an awful good girl,
Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
En began to walk down the stage in perfect time with the song, clearly aiming for a very nervous Terrence.
Santa baby, a '54 convertible too,
Light blue;
I'll wait up for you, dear
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Think of all the fun I've missed,
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed,
Next year I could be just as good,
If you'll check off my Christmas list.
As En got closer, Terr began to hide behind Lisa and Rhea, looking more panicked than he would staring down a team of Psychic Blasters.
Santa Baby, I want a yacht and really that's not
Alot;
Been an angel all year
Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa honey, one little thing I really need.
The deed
To a platinum mine,
Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
As En knew better than to upset the party, she fluidly changed direction towards the nearest man in sight, then again at the next verse, and again, until she had made her way back up to the stage.
Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex,
And cheques.
Sign your 'x' on the line,
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Come and trim my Christmas tree,
With some decorations bought at Tif-fa-ny.
I really do believe in you,
Lets see if you believe in me.
Santa Baby, forgot to mention one little thing,
A ring.
I don't mean on the phone,
Santa Baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Hurry down the chimney tonight.
Hurry...tonight.
As the song ended, she blew a kiss to a certain slowly recovering tank, and flashed back off the stage.
---
The Master said: "It is all in vain! I have never yet seen a man who can perceive his own faults and bring the charge home against himself."
>Analects: Book V, Chaper XXVI
Quote: Ebony wrote:
Quote: Sofaspud wrote:
Alistair's Songlist
Depeche Mode -- Your Own Personal Penguin
MC Hammer -- Can't Touch Fish
Bob Seger -- Old Time Ice and Snow
The Bangles - Waddle Like An Alaskan
Funny enough, a lot of Alaskans "think penguin" to walk across treacherous ice. Not "think like a penguin"....just keep an image of a
penguin in your head
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Quote: alaskanime wrote:
Quote: Ebony wrote:
Quote: Sofaspud wrote:
Alistair's Songlist
Depeche Mode -- Your Own Personal Penguin
MC Hammer -- Can't Touch Fish
Bob Seger -- Old Time Ice and Snow
The Bangles - Waddle Like An Alaskan
Funny enough, a lot of Alaskans "think penguin" to walk across treacherous ice. Not "think like a penguin"....just keep an image of a
penguin in your head
It totally works too. -props to Wootykins on that one-
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