stumble biscuit
New Member
...Are you saying I have nothing worth saying up above, or are you letting me know what is proper posting for future reference?
Like this post here for example. I can hear myself talking as I type...
The squeaking of a rusty pulley accompanied by the pressure of widening jaws awakened stumble biscuit to Nightmare #2.
He opened his nightmare eyes to the wet popping sound of dislocating joints and saw the demon release the handwheel. The creature lowered down to test the tension on the steel wires running from stumble biscuit's jawbone and teeth up to the skeleton spine hanging from the chandelier above the bed. Through tears of pain, stumble biscuit watched as the demon plucked a steel string on the makeshift harpsichord then smiled wickedly at him as a sound that can only come from a nightmare mind filled the concert hall began resonating through his tightly gripped skull and seemingly dissolving upon contact with the demon's shiny red eyes.
Absolute absorption with nary a ripple did the sound of the harp cease once meeting the surface of the grinning demon's eyes.
Another demon, smaller than the tuning demon, scurried across the ceiling to make minute adjustments on the spine. Stumble biscuit listened to lead crystals clink against one another as the chandelier tilted from the weight of the demon. He felt his head being pulled tight against the nail-studded harness which cut deeper into his forehead as the hanging demon and tuning demon continued to fine tune their demon harp. The audience waited impatiently and occasionally nipped at one another as they sat in bleachers made of bone surrounding the bed.
In one corner of the granite room sat a pristine and gleaming Wurlitzer Jukebox. Blood bubbled and churned through the polished glass tubing. Behind the glass cover protecting the turntable and needle mechanism, a human hand held a vinyl record awaiting the demon conductor, who paced back and forth in a small hole carved in the granite floor beneath the bed; The Conductor's Hole, a noble and grand darkness occupied by demons of only the highest musical genius.
Stumble biscuit's bed rose from the floor several times registering the demon conductor's agitated intent to perform. The audience began clicking and scraping their black talons along the granite signifying their growing lust for performance as the tuning demons nervously re-adjusted the steel wires once again.
Stumble biscuit watched the hanging demon move two steel wires to another vertebrate and blood poured down his harnessed forehead into his eyes. The tuning demon leaned forward and licked the blood away. Stumble biscuit continued to witness the demon-tuning and fueled it's tonal balance with adequate fear into perfect demonical harmony.
The audience clawed, the audience roared.
Stumble biscuit wanted to scream, but the demon conductor beneath the bed held fast to his spine with sharp claws, controlling his body, controlling his mind. The demon conductor would decide when stumble biscuit would scream.
The genius of music knew its instrument well.
When the steel wires were tuned and taunt, the demon tuners moved quickly to the sides of the bed and knelt down before their master at eye level. Nervously, they beckoned it to come forth and perform.
The audience fell silent as the first black arm appeared from under the bed. Claws dug deep into the oak frame of the bed as the demon conductor pulled itself out from it's cherished hole of nobility. In the conductor's right hand, it held a bone staff with razors criss crossing the tip. It raised the staff above its head and slowly turned in full circle paying due respect to its audience. Then it pointed at the Jukebox with one black claw and the human hand slowly lowered the record and positioned the needle.
The concert began.
The conductor played its instrument in unison with the human recording of Stairway To Heaven. Stumble biscuit's musical screams enchanted the enthralled audience enticed by the conductor's perfect plectra of pain. With a sharp claw, the conductor dug deep into stumble biscuit's intestines to achieve desired pitch as it strummed the harpsichord with precise note for note demonic perfection. Changing pain balance with an occaisonal brush of the staff across the face, chest and groin, the conductor and stumble biscuit left the audience in want of more as the record began skipping at it's vinyl end.
With the sounds of scratching, popping vinyl and moans of human agony filling the concert hall, the conductor decided to give the audience an encore. It motioned to the Jukebox hand, and stood patiently by the musical bed as the hand flipped the record over, waiting to perform Nightmare # 1 once again before the instrument expired.
The audience clawed, the audience roared.
I wholeheartedly agree with Gonzo, your posts are posts I enjoyed reading.
The war should be over as soon as possible so all these anthrax cases stop and all the killing stops (as soon as the terrorists are dead)
I am for the most part pro life, but these guys are lower than life. They couldn't grace the gates of heaven if they gave all their money to charity and became preachers.
The war should be over as soon as possible so all these anthrax cases stop and all the killing stops (as soon as the terrorists are dead)
I am for the most part pro life, but these guys are lower than life. They couldn't grace the gates of heaven if they gave all their money to charity and became preachers.
V
VictorP
Guest
My dear sir, stumble biscuit. Since reviewing your writings, I find them fascinating. You should be commended on your splendid command of the English Language!