Archives: Hampered By Pun Death
5/2/00
Pun death is the most painful death imaginable.
* Mousie is in charge of making herself the center of attention, not Sam.
* Ghost of Sam is in charge of making sure HE is the center of attention.
* Ghost of Sam steps on Mousie but takes it back.
Mousie: Keep trying, Sheethead.
* Ghost of Sam stuffs Mousie in a hamper.
Mousie: You're the ghost! Your sheet belongs in a hamper!
Ghost of Sam: Pay no attention to the mumbling, jiggling clothes hamper in the corner.
* Nyperold ignores the clothes hamper.
Mousie: Hey!
Mousie: Nyperold was filling in for Iss, there, in the "Hey!" department.
Iss: You're not supposed to "Hey!" Nyperold!
* Ellmyruh sits on the hamper.
Iss: Hey!
Mousie: You "Hey!ed" Ellmyruh!
* Ticia hears muffled talk coming from the hamper
* Ghost of Sam realizes all this talk of ignoring Mousie is having the opposite effect and therefore does not say that he's ignoring Mousie, even though he is.
Iss: "Make Hey!, not war," that's my slogan.
* Iss keeps ducking
* Iss is just ducky today.
Darien: My slogan is "Shut up or I'll punch you in the face."
Iss: LOL!
Mousie: Lol, Dardud!
Mousie: He Iss so funny!
Ghost of Sam: My new motto is 'Don't stick your finger in a stick of butter unless you have soap handy, because butter doesn't rinse off with just water.'
Ticia: lol
Ellmyruh: Sounds like this was learned from experience.
* Ellmyruh hunts Iss.
Iss: It's wabbit season, Ellie! Go hunt wabbits!
Mousie: Duck season!
Iss: Ptuo! Wabbit season!
* Nyperold sees that Ellie Iss hunting, and opens the hamper.
Ellmyruh: I think it's Iss season.
Iss: No, it Issn't.
* Mousie erases Ellie's gun and draws in some flowered boxer shorts instead.
Ellmyruh: Mousie, what am I supposed to do with THESE?
Mousie: I dunno. I'm just the artist here.
* Nyperold hopes that Ellie isn't sued for Iss salt. :)
Iss: With a d00dly weapon.
Nyperold: Sam might be sued for buttery. :)
Ellmyruh: LOL
Ellmyruh: Watch out, Nyperold Iss on a roll again...
Iss: He's a scone cold punster.
Ellmyruh: Wheat did you say, Iss?
Iss: A toast to Nyperold!
* Nyperold Iss toast.
* Ellmyruh wants muffin to do with toast.
Iss: Jam on, d00d!
Sam: That Nyperold! I bet he's been to the beach and seen bay gulls!
Sam: Wow! Nyperold! Nyperold! He doesn't pay a lot for his mufflin!
Sam: Brr! It's feeling very (apple) crisp out there today!
Nyperold: On the Oater hand...
Sam: Gah.
Ellmyruh: Nah, I think it's a crepe day outside.
Sam: Yeek.
Iss: Sam has a rye sense of humor.
Sam: Aargh.
* Nyperold Iss all rye-t.
Sam: Oof.
* Sam gives up.
* Sam extracts his wounded carcass from the battlefield.
Iss: Sam is acting all half-baked today.
Sam: Yeah, kick a man when he's down.
* Ellmyruh takes a thyme out.
Sam: Spit on him, too.
* Nyperold wonders if Sam will rise again. It's the yeast he could do.
Sam: Dance on my rotting head.
Nyperold: Staying dead would not dough.
Sam: Stomp my face in the ground.
Ellmyruh: /flour Sam
Sam: No need to hire an embalmer. Just throw in a bucket of LEECHES.
* Nyperold thinks that's enough to make anyone challah.
Sam: CURSED leeches, which are also spat upon.
Ellmyruh: Tis a pita, that's what it is.
Sam: Lacking a shovel, just bury me by pounding on my corpse really hard.
* Nyperold hummus a tune.
* Sam withers away into hits constituent molecules, which he fully expects Nyperold, Iss, Ellmyruh, and co. to perform a ritual cursing ceremony upon.
* Darien spits on Sam's molecules.
Mousie: Well, fill my ears with honey and leave me in an ant hill.
Sam: You GO, Mousie. Here, have the center of attention rightfully mine at MY OWN FUNERAL.
Mousie: Well. You weren't using it. So I might as well take it. It's not like I have to TRY or anything. Hey, somebody close the lid on that casket thingy and hand me a mike.
* Sam 's molecules wither away into their constituent subatomic particles, which are also cursed.
Sam: And spat upon.
* Nyperold drops US Smarties into the casket.
* Darien walks out halfway through the funeral, spitting Sam even more.
Darien has left.
* Ellmyruh yodels a mournful tune.
* Nyperold yodels in hominy.
Nyperold: 2-pot hominy.
Mousie: Hominy grits did you want?
Mousie: They come in dozens.
* Sam 's cursed, spat upon subatomic particles disperse at light speed throughout the universe, but mostly to Keanu Reeves' bathroom, Piers Anthony's footstool, and toilet paper rolls hung so the paper wraps under the bottom.
* Mousie scoops up Sam's subatomic particles, puts them in a bowl, adds corn, and waits for Sam to perk up.
* Lady has been sniffing around that bowl, though, and is scooted out of the room by Mousie.
* Mousie picks one last toilet paper roll out from the mess in the bowl.
Mousie: SAM!!!!
Mousie: Come together!!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!! (over me)
Mousie: Maybe I should have added some crunched up Jaffas.
* Sam 's cursed, spat upon subatomic particles are still ignoring Mousie and still not saying so.
* Sam 's cursed, spat upon subatomic particles can't resist, especially being cursed and all, raising Mousie's dander when the opportunity presents itself.
Mousie: Ptuo!!
* Sam 's cursed, spat upon subatomic particles figure, what can one more glop of gooey saliva do?
Sam: It can make me wet...ter.
* Sam decides to accept the offer of reconstitution after all, coalesces into his former live self, and puts Mousie in the hamper.
* Mousie 's dander hurts. Can you put it back down now?
* Sam opens the hamper, graciously flattens Mousie's dander, then carefully drops the lid back into place.
Mousie: Um. Thanks. I think.
Back to the RinkChat Archives.