07 August 2017
874
R. Linda:
In anticipation of your arrival for a visit to the new abode, there was a lot of cleaning and polishing going on. In honour of your visit I decided to experiment with some Mexican food and made up a batch of spicy chimichangas. I know you like hot sauce so I was working with peppers, slicing and dicing and inadvertently rubbing me eyes and oh the pain that caused from the pepper juice! That's why I think me hot sauce didn't turn out the way I had hoped, or the chimichangas either, since me eyes burned and I couldn't see the recipe.
Determined to taste everything I made with the whole house watching and laughing, I made a show of it I did. I made like nothing was that hot, but oh my goodness the instant heartburn! I sipped the margaritas slowly and the alcohol made it worse. I thought I was going to die, but I tried not to give meself away. I smiled and tasted some more knowing each bite and sip was lethal. I know call me crazy but I just couldn't let the Dragon see me pain and give her something to dig at me with.
Once out of the kitchen and away from the hot stuff, Tonya came in with a huge glass of ice water and told me to go drink it in the bathroom so her mom couldn't see. I chugged that baby down like there was no tomorrow but it didn't put the fire out. No, I was now smoking through me nostrils, ears and mouth thinking me lower extremities would not be exempt from the fire I had foolishly fuelled in me stomach!
I had to lay down, I mean I was near doubled over and I couldn't let Dragon see that, so I said I was sleepy and going to have a lie down. And I did after Tonya brought me a refill of ice water. I tell ya, I was burning up. I tried listing the hot peppers I put in that sauce in an effort to escape consciousness. Repeating things I find usually puts me to sleep, so there I was whispering to meself, "Rellenos Poblano, Guindilla Verde, Chilaca, Cayenne, Guernica, Chipotle, Serrano, Habanero, Pimiento de Padron, Aji Rojo, and Piquillo too." I made a sing-song out of it and it did finally put me in chili pepper escape land. BUT that wasn't a good thing necessarily.
I had bad dreams like I mean bad dreams! I was being roasted over a spit by Ramsey Bolton. The fire licking me skin and it crackling or so I thought, but it was Ramsey's cackling as he turned me over and over. I passed out on the spit and then I was sitting in an outhouse when this very short person opened the door and pointed a crossbow at me! "You are on the wrong throne," she said pointing the ready to fire arrow at me. I hurriedly pulled up me pants which were the weirdest pants ever! They were leather with what looked like leather scales and me footwear was matching boots. I looked like a crocodile. She pointed for me to follow her down this long, dark hallway and there we came into this big room. It was filled with a few groups of people with their backs turned having conversations, so I didn't know who they were.
"There is your throne, sit on that." She said as I obeyed because she still had that crossbow pointed in me direction.
Who . . . who are you?" I asked her.
"Tyrion Lannister."
"No you're not," I said recognising you R. Linda.
"Am too! Everything's better with some wine in the belly." You said, pouring out a margarita not wine. I shook me head no, no matter the goblet was this jewelled affair, I wasn't drinking from it with me dicky tum, no way was I drinking anything burningly alcoholic.
"You . . . you killed Tywin Lannister with that thing." I pointed to the crossbow you still held.
"Oh, did I kill him? I've been very busy."
"YOU drink that and stop quoting Tyrion Lannister."
"I can drink myself to death on the road to Meereen." You laughed at me, as I watched you waddle away to one of the groups down the steps below me throne. I sat there looking around me, feeling the fiery ache in me belly from the hot sauce wondering about the big hall I was in. It was all dark stone and large tapestries I couldn't make out. Not to mention, but I am mentioning it anyway, the pointy chair I was sitting in was made up of swords and the points were up me bum and very uncomfortable!
Suddenly I was nudged by something and I turned me attention to what it was and almost jumped out of me hot skin. There in front of me was a huge dragon wearing spectacles. How I didn't hear that thing approach I don't know, but I lifted me long legs up under me and tried to blend into the throne chair.
A puff of smoke came from it's nostrils as if a dragon gesture of clearing its throat. It announced in a New Jersey accented American English,
"Today's headlines: First one -- Rainbow flies off track killing three."
I sat there stupefied. Rainbow? Flying off tracks? Railroad? Did it mean THAT?
"Second one: American spinster has epic reaction to beating Usain Bolt."
WHAT? Spinster? Beating Usain Bolt with what? Oh sprinter maybe? Not that kind of beating. Gees!
"Last one: Police arrest man suspected of kidnapping motel."
HUH? How do you kidnap a motel, oh than it dawned on me -- model. Damn that Dragon can't get anything right.
As I was tsking away the Dragon disappeared in a puff of smoke before I could correct it.
Next thing I know, you escorted two people from one of the groups who came slowly up the stone stairs to me throne. One was a good looking dark haired man dressed in black with a black wolf wrapped around his neck and a blond-haired woman, who's hair seemed to grow at every step she took.
You said to the dark man as you were nearing me throne, "Dewdropper is not about to head across the pond to fight an enemy she's never seen, on the word of a man she doesn't know, after a single meeting. It's not a reasonable thing to ask." Then you turned to the woman with the startlingly fast growing hair and said, "You don't have to believe Wolfie here. Let him mine the dragonglass. If he's wrong, it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here; it's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand," and you whispered but I heard you, "O'Sully Rock."
"But the cave drawings," Wolfie began to protest.
"Oh wait, the cave drawings," I said, realising I knew this conversation. "You were gone a long time Wolfie Snow, down in that abyss of dragonglass. You had plenty of time to draw those figures on the cave wall. I know you are a bit of an artist."
Wolfie looked like he had been caught redhanded or in this case with chalk in hand which he did have and shoved into his pocket out of sight.
The blond woman's hair grew even quicker as she looked at him startled he do such a thing.
"And here I thought you were an honest sort." She stamped her foot.
"Now, now," you said, "he has fine good hair, he's a handsome one so what's a chalk drawing between lovers."
"Lovers?" I said getting up again, me blood racing in disgust, "he's her brother!"
Everyone in the hall turned around at me declaration, gasps coming from all at the revelation. Before anything could be said, this blond-haired kid rolled up in a rickety wooden wheel chair, his eyes white and a grey wolf lap robe over his cripple knees.
"Iz da three eyed raven an Iz is ere' ta tell ya wot da guy on da thronie sayz is truth!"
"Ee gads it's the Weasil," you said to no one in particular. "Three-eyed raven my ass."
Just then the great wooden doors clanged open as two women came in. One dressed like a salad with a sword and the other with flaming and I mean literally flaming red-hair holding a jewelled tankard. I recognised them both instantly, Fiona the Canadian salad expert and Gillian the Irish beer drinker. It was obvious both had been dining recently.
"He IS her brother he's a Targaryen and I'm Arya Stark." Fiona said as she chopped salad from her head with the sword. An amazing feat when you see it done.
"Noe he be NOT he's da bostard of da Nort as I be a priestess wit da mostest." Gillian said, her heavy Irish accent hanging in the air as she threw beer from the tankard on her flaming hair as if the fire was a minor inconvenience and beer was water and not an accelerant.
"That doesn't rhyme," you muttered.
"Bostard?" Wolfie said all indignant. "Whats a bostard? And YOU are that wench who fires up the barbie with deformed face young girls!" This last he threw at Gillian.
"OOH I DID NOTING OF DA SORT!" Gillian protested loudly.
I recognised her then as the Red Woman, it explained the fire on her head.
"Let me give ya soom advice, bostard . . ." Gillian began but was cut off by Fiona.
"Wolfie Snow knows nothing. And I mean nothing."
"Hey, I resent that . . ." Wolfie began.
"I am willing to over look the bastard or bostard thing," Dewdropper sighed looking at Wolfie. "Oh the things I do for love."
No one moved, no one said anything, Wolfie looked uncomfortable thinking what if the salad head was right and he WAS a Targaryen brother?
"After all," Dewdropper defended, "it's the family name that lives on. It's all that lives on." She finished that last wistfully, poor dear.
Quiet still reigned, no one moved, no one said anything until you piped up with this gem: "When dead men and worse come hunting . . . You think it matters if he's her brother?"
"You mean 'you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne.'" Gillian corrected.
"Nope I don't mean that at all." You stood your ground even though you were low to it.
The large wooden doors clanged open again, as a fuzzy haired woman came in with a scroll.
"I am known as Missandei AKA Tonya. I come bearing the genealogy of the Targaryen line. I can put this brother sister act to bed."
Everyone exchanged alarmed glances and mouthed the word 'bed'.
"Oh please do," I said going down and leading her up to me throne by the hand.
A stone table magically appeared out of the ground and Missandei Tonya spread the sheet out. It was huge, it was complex, it was from ancestry.com!
"See here," Missandei Tonya said to all of us as she ran a finger from one name to another, "Rhaegar was the son of Aerys Targaryen and the older brother of Daenerys and Viserys. Lyanna was the daughter of Rickard Stark and sister to Eddard, Benjen, and Brandon. Wolfie Snow is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, that means Dewdropper here is his auntie. The rest of you Starks are cousins and I am sorry to inform the Lannisters, they are no relation.
"Well, that clears that up." You said relieved.
"Not quitie," Weasil shouted from the bottom of the stone steps.
A man who was announced as Jamie Lannister came in holding his arm where it was obvious the hand had been severed. It was bleeding all over the stones and he was cursing up a storm.
"Bloody Roos Bolton! I only meant ti giv er' a kiss!"
I knew that pronunciation of the name Rose as Roos and recognised me cousin Sean. I also understood I was KING so I ordered Sean AKA Jamie Lannister put in a closet to shut him up quite literally. Feeling kingly as everyone murmered among themselves I unconsciously picked up the goblet you had offered earlier as I felt very self-satisfied. I had taken two gulps when I saw everyone looking at me askance.
You were looking up at me with your head lowered so all I could see were your eyes. They had a demented glint to them.
"Whaa . . . ?" I said staring down at you.
"Well, JOFFREY I hope you go fast."
I dropped the goblet and it went clanging to the floor, the margarita juice all over the stones mingling with Sean's blood. I looked at everyone, quite taken aback and then I fell forward and don't remember a thing after that.
I woke up at 4 a.m. feeling the lessening of a slow burn in me intestines from the peppers. Never again will I do that pride thing of trying not to let the dragon know I made a huge culinary mistake. I do tend to eat me mistakes, but that's got to stop along with the pride thing. It took a few minutes but then I remembered me dream. A pride dream! That's what I get for doing stupid things with spicy food. I hadn't given the consequences much thought but I do realise if that dream had gone on, there would have been white hot pepper walkers and me running for me life to the loo I be sure. On that note, I am done with this which I know will make you the one who is self-satisfied. Uh huh.
Gabe
Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved
874
R. Linda:
In anticipation of your arrival for a visit to the new abode, there was a lot of cleaning and polishing going on. In honour of your visit I decided to experiment with some Mexican food and made up a batch of spicy chimichangas. I know you like hot sauce so I was working with peppers, slicing and dicing and inadvertently rubbing me eyes and oh the pain that caused from the pepper juice! That's why I think me hot sauce didn't turn out the way I had hoped, or the chimichangas either, since me eyes burned and I couldn't see the recipe.
Determined to taste everything I made with the whole house watching and laughing, I made a show of it I did. I made like nothing was that hot, but oh my goodness the instant heartburn! I sipped the margaritas slowly and the alcohol made it worse. I thought I was going to die, but I tried not to give meself away. I smiled and tasted some more knowing each bite and sip was lethal. I know call me crazy but I just couldn't let the Dragon see me pain and give her something to dig at me with.
Once out of the kitchen and away from the hot stuff, Tonya came in with a huge glass of ice water and told me to go drink it in the bathroom so her mom couldn't see. I chugged that baby down like there was no tomorrow but it didn't put the fire out. No, I was now smoking through me nostrils, ears and mouth thinking me lower extremities would not be exempt from the fire I had foolishly fuelled in me stomach!
I had to lay down, I mean I was near doubled over and I couldn't let Dragon see that, so I said I was sleepy and going to have a lie down. And I did after Tonya brought me a refill of ice water. I tell ya, I was burning up. I tried listing the hot peppers I put in that sauce in an effort to escape consciousness. Repeating things I find usually puts me to sleep, so there I was whispering to meself, "Rellenos Poblano, Guindilla Verde, Chilaca, Cayenne, Guernica, Chipotle, Serrano, Habanero, Pimiento de Padron, Aji Rojo, and Piquillo too." I made a sing-song out of it and it did finally put me in chili pepper escape land. BUT that wasn't a good thing necessarily.
I had bad dreams like I mean bad dreams! I was being roasted over a spit by Ramsey Bolton. The fire licking me skin and it crackling or so I thought, but it was Ramsey's cackling as he turned me over and over. I passed out on the spit and then I was sitting in an outhouse when this very short person opened the door and pointed a crossbow at me! "You are on the wrong throne," she said pointing the ready to fire arrow at me. I hurriedly pulled up me pants which were the weirdest pants ever! They were leather with what looked like leather scales and me footwear was matching boots. I looked like a crocodile. She pointed for me to follow her down this long, dark hallway and there we came into this big room. It was filled with a few groups of people with their backs turned having conversations, so I didn't know who they were.
"There is your throne, sit on that." She said as I obeyed because she still had that crossbow pointed in me direction.
Who . . . who are you?" I asked her.
"Tyrion Lannister."
"No you're not," I said recognising you R. Linda.
"Am too! Everything's better with some wine in the belly." You said, pouring out a margarita not wine. I shook me head no, no matter the goblet was this jewelled affair, I wasn't drinking from it with me dicky tum, no way was I drinking anything burningly alcoholic.
"You . . . you killed Tywin Lannister with that thing." I pointed to the crossbow you still held.
"Oh, did I kill him? I've been very busy."
"YOU drink that and stop quoting Tyrion Lannister."
"I can drink myself to death on the road to Meereen." You laughed at me, as I watched you waddle away to one of the groups down the steps below me throne. I sat there looking around me, feeling the fiery ache in me belly from the hot sauce wondering about the big hall I was in. It was all dark stone and large tapestries I couldn't make out. Not to mention, but I am mentioning it anyway, the pointy chair I was sitting in was made up of swords and the points were up me bum and very uncomfortable!
Suddenly I was nudged by something and I turned me attention to what it was and almost jumped out of me hot skin. There in front of me was a huge dragon wearing spectacles. How I didn't hear that thing approach I don't know, but I lifted me long legs up under me and tried to blend into the throne chair.
A puff of smoke came from it's nostrils as if a dragon gesture of clearing its throat. It announced in a New Jersey accented American English,
"Today's headlines: First one -- Rainbow flies off track killing three."
I sat there stupefied. Rainbow? Flying off tracks? Railroad? Did it mean THAT?
"Second one: American spinster has epic reaction to beating Usain Bolt."
WHAT? Spinster? Beating Usain Bolt with what? Oh sprinter maybe? Not that kind of beating. Gees!
"Last one: Police arrest man suspected of kidnapping motel."
HUH? How do you kidnap a motel, oh than it dawned on me -- model. Damn that Dragon can't get anything right.
As I was tsking away the Dragon disappeared in a puff of smoke before I could correct it.
Next thing I know, you escorted two people from one of the groups who came slowly up the stone stairs to me throne. One was a good looking dark haired man dressed in black with a black wolf wrapped around his neck and a blond-haired woman, who's hair seemed to grow at every step she took.
You said to the dark man as you were nearing me throne, "Dewdropper is not about to head across the pond to fight an enemy she's never seen, on the word of a man she doesn't know, after a single meeting. It's not a reasonable thing to ask." Then you turned to the woman with the startlingly fast growing hair and said, "You don't have to believe Wolfie here. Let him mine the dragonglass. If he's wrong, it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here; it's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand," and you whispered but I heard you, "O'Sully Rock."
"But the cave drawings," Wolfie began to protest.
"Oh wait, the cave drawings," I said, realising I knew this conversation. "You were gone a long time Wolfie Snow, down in that abyss of dragonglass. You had plenty of time to draw those figures on the cave wall. I know you are a bit of an artist."
Wolfie looked like he had been caught redhanded or in this case with chalk in hand which he did have and shoved into his pocket out of sight.
The blond woman's hair grew even quicker as she looked at him startled he do such a thing.
"And here I thought you were an honest sort." She stamped her foot.
"Now, now," you said, "he has fine good hair, he's a handsome one so what's a chalk drawing between lovers."
"Lovers?" I said getting up again, me blood racing in disgust, "he's her brother!"
Everyone in the hall turned around at me declaration, gasps coming from all at the revelation. Before anything could be said, this blond-haired kid rolled up in a rickety wooden wheel chair, his eyes white and a grey wolf lap robe over his cripple knees.
"Iz da three eyed raven an Iz is ere' ta tell ya wot da guy on da thronie sayz is truth!"
"Ee gads it's the Weasil," you said to no one in particular. "Three-eyed raven my ass."
Just then the great wooden doors clanged open as two women came in. One dressed like a salad with a sword and the other with flaming and I mean literally flaming red-hair holding a jewelled tankard. I recognised them both instantly, Fiona the Canadian salad expert and Gillian the Irish beer drinker. It was obvious both had been dining recently.
"He IS her brother he's a Targaryen and I'm Arya Stark." Fiona said as she chopped salad from her head with the sword. An amazing feat when you see it done.
"Noe he be NOT he's da bostard of da Nort as I be a priestess wit da mostest." Gillian said, her heavy Irish accent hanging in the air as she threw beer from the tankard on her flaming hair as if the fire was a minor inconvenience and beer was water and not an accelerant.
"That doesn't rhyme," you muttered.
"Bostard?" Wolfie said all indignant. "Whats a bostard? And YOU are that wench who fires up the barbie with deformed face young girls!" This last he threw at Gillian.
"OOH I DID NOTING OF DA SORT!" Gillian protested loudly.
I recognised her then as the Red Woman, it explained the fire on her head.
"Let me give ya soom advice, bostard . . ." Gillian began but was cut off by Fiona.
"Wolfie Snow knows nothing. And I mean nothing."
"Hey, I resent that . . ." Wolfie began.
"I am willing to over look the bastard or bostard thing," Dewdropper sighed looking at Wolfie. "Oh the things I do for love."
No one moved, no one said anything, Wolfie looked uncomfortable thinking what if the salad head was right and he WAS a Targaryen brother?
"After all," Dewdropper defended, "it's the family name that lives on. It's all that lives on." She finished that last wistfully, poor dear.
Quiet still reigned, no one moved, no one said anything until you piped up with this gem: "When dead men and worse come hunting . . . You think it matters if he's her brother?"
"You mean 'you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne.'" Gillian corrected.
"Nope I don't mean that at all." You stood your ground even though you were low to it.
The large wooden doors clanged open again, as a fuzzy haired woman came in with a scroll.
"I am known as Missandei AKA Tonya. I come bearing the genealogy of the Targaryen line. I can put this brother sister act to bed."
Everyone exchanged alarmed glances and mouthed the word 'bed'.
"Oh please do," I said going down and leading her up to me throne by the hand.
A stone table magically appeared out of the ground and Missandei Tonya spread the sheet out. It was huge, it was complex, it was from ancestry.com!
"See here," Missandei Tonya said to all of us as she ran a finger from one name to another, "Rhaegar was the son of Aerys Targaryen and the older brother of Daenerys and Viserys. Lyanna was the daughter of Rickard Stark and sister to Eddard, Benjen, and Brandon. Wolfie Snow is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, that means Dewdropper here is his auntie. The rest of you Starks are cousins and I am sorry to inform the Lannisters, they are no relation.
"Well, that clears that up." You said relieved.
"Not quitie," Weasil shouted from the bottom of the stone steps.
A man who was announced as Jamie Lannister came in holding his arm where it was obvious the hand had been severed. It was bleeding all over the stones and he was cursing up a storm.
"Bloody Roos Bolton! I only meant ti giv er' a kiss!"
I knew that pronunciation of the name Rose as Roos and recognised me cousin Sean. I also understood I was KING so I ordered Sean AKA Jamie Lannister put in a closet to shut him up quite literally. Feeling kingly as everyone murmered among themselves I unconsciously picked up the goblet you had offered earlier as I felt very self-satisfied. I had taken two gulps when I saw everyone looking at me askance.
You were looking up at me with your head lowered so all I could see were your eyes. They had a demented glint to them.
"Whaa . . . ?" I said staring down at you.
"Well, JOFFREY I hope you go fast."
I dropped the goblet and it went clanging to the floor, the margarita juice all over the stones mingling with Sean's blood. I looked at everyone, quite taken aback and then I fell forward and don't remember a thing after that.
I woke up at 4 a.m. feeling the lessening of a slow burn in me intestines from the peppers. Never again will I do that pride thing of trying not to let the dragon know I made a huge culinary mistake. I do tend to eat me mistakes, but that's got to stop along with the pride thing. It took a few minutes but then I remembered me dream. A pride dream! That's what I get for doing stupid things with spicy food. I hadn't given the consequences much thought but I do realise if that dream had gone on, there would have been white hot pepper walkers and me running for me life to the loo I be sure. On that note, I am done with this which I know will make you the one who is self-satisfied. Uh huh.
Gabe
Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved
9 comments:
Whoo hoo I made a cameo appearance!
ROFLMAO My bags are packed and I just need to know when to get there. I need a ride so send your mom. I need a fun ride. Were you and Tonya binge watching GOT? I don't eat hot or spicy, my stomach cant take it anymore. I still cook it. AND I DO love your suffering, not because I'm mean but you write great stuff after a spicy meal.LMAO my new favorite for now is squeezy grape jelly and cinnamon peanut butter, no bread. I hear N.h. is a den of druggies and a screwed up place. Can't wait to get there!
Anytime. I will pick you up. No binge watching that would make us crazier than we already are. I thought you watched GOT. I don't eat spicy food either after this. That non-sandwich sounds gross but I will be sure to have it on hand. Den of druggies is pretty accurate. Let me know flight and when.
Sooner than you think!
i may be good with a knife but ayra stark? come on, how about Daenarys or cercei?
Nah you're too good with a knife. Arya it is!
You are so talented!
Hey, I thought I was Jon Snow? LOL
Ni. Your Da is ;-)
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