One would think that watering a little garden is quite a simple thing, especially if one has a hose. It will soon be clear that until it has been tamed a hose is an extraordinarily evasive and dangerous beast, for it contorts itself, it jumps, it wriggles, it makes puddles of water, and dives with delight into the mess it has made; then it goes for the man who is going to use it and coils itself round his legs; you must hold it down with your foot, and then it rears and twists round your waist and neck, and while you are fighting with it as with a cobra, the monster turns up its brass mouth and projects a mighty stream of water through the windows on to the curtains which have been recently hung.
You must grasp it firmly, and hold it tight; the beast rears with pain, and begins to spout water, not from the mouth, but from the hydrant and from somewhere in the middle of its body. Three men at least are needed to tame it at first, and they all leave the place of battle splashed to the ears with mud and drenched with water; as to the garden itself, in parts it has changed into greasy pools where a pair of muddy boot tips has sprouted forth, while in other places it is cracking with thirst. When planting a man, you really should dig down deep to the root of the problem before rushing off to a watering hole of a different variety.
Escaping the house on the off chance she might see her dead husband buttressed up at the kitchen table awaiting his supper, Keely headed to drown her fears in strong liquor. She was under the firm belief that when one started seeing dead people, it was time to switch from weak tea laced with mint leaves to something with a kick.
This was how she found herself with a cup of whiskey laced coffee at the Red Dragon Inn with the noise of raucous drunks and imbibers where she slid down into a chair and eyed the man doing some serious damage to his lower lip. ?Keep that up and your lips are going to chap and crack and bleed. It'll hurt.?
Isidore Grey stood immediately from his upright position to bow on Keely Asher's behalf.? What's that then? Oh, yes. Mm, I hadn't realized I was doing it, truth be told.?
?I do the same thing, but to my nails. See?? She held up her free hand, showing off the fingernails she had chewed down to a nub. ? But, that's what comes of seeing de- Yes, with this cold weather, chewing on your lips can be hazardous.?
?Ah yes? Tilts his head to the side, inspecting Keely's nails. ?Those are quite visibly bitten indeed. Have you perhaps tried wearing some mittens, as to douse the urge??
?That works wonders. Until you remove the gloves. I even dipped them in an incredibly spicy mixture I made up from a variety of peppers I collected from the garden.?
?Ah, mmm.? Furrows his brow. ?Hrm. I suppose, as well, wearing mittens makes it somewhat impractical, in the use of utensils and whatnot.? Nods, his eyebrows rising after a quick sip of his drink. ?Forks, and spoon.? There was a long pause while he stares at the fire. ?Scissors... wrenches, things like that.? There was another incredibly long pause. ?Forks? I said forks, I believe, already, in the first set of items there.?
(taken from live rp at the Inn and posted with the generous permission of the fabulous player, Isidore Grey)
You must grasp it firmly, and hold it tight; the beast rears with pain, and begins to spout water, not from the mouth, but from the hydrant and from somewhere in the middle of its body. Three men at least are needed to tame it at first, and they all leave the place of battle splashed to the ears with mud and drenched with water; as to the garden itself, in parts it has changed into greasy pools where a pair of muddy boot tips has sprouted forth, while in other places it is cracking with thirst. When planting a man, you really should dig down deep to the root of the problem before rushing off to a watering hole of a different variety.
Escaping the house on the off chance she might see her dead husband buttressed up at the kitchen table awaiting his supper, Keely headed to drown her fears in strong liquor. She was under the firm belief that when one started seeing dead people, it was time to switch from weak tea laced with mint leaves to something with a kick.
This was how she found herself with a cup of whiskey laced coffee at the Red Dragon Inn with the noise of raucous drunks and imbibers where she slid down into a chair and eyed the man doing some serious damage to his lower lip. ?Keep that up and your lips are going to chap and crack and bleed. It'll hurt.?
Isidore Grey stood immediately from his upright position to bow on Keely Asher's behalf.? What's that then? Oh, yes. Mm, I hadn't realized I was doing it, truth be told.?
?I do the same thing, but to my nails. See?? She held up her free hand, showing off the fingernails she had chewed down to a nub. ? But, that's what comes of seeing de- Yes, with this cold weather, chewing on your lips can be hazardous.?
?Ah yes? Tilts his head to the side, inspecting Keely's nails. ?Those are quite visibly bitten indeed. Have you perhaps tried wearing some mittens, as to douse the urge??
?That works wonders. Until you remove the gloves. I even dipped them in an incredibly spicy mixture I made up from a variety of peppers I collected from the garden.?
?Ah, mmm.? Furrows his brow. ?Hrm. I suppose, as well, wearing mittens makes it somewhat impractical, in the use of utensils and whatnot.? Nods, his eyebrows rising after a quick sip of his drink. ?Forks, and spoon.? There was a long pause while he stares at the fire. ?Scissors... wrenches, things like that.? There was another incredibly long pause. ?Forks? I said forks, I believe, already, in the first set of items there.?
(taken from live rp at the Inn and posted with the generous permission of the fabulous player, Isidore Grey)