*whispering*
What? Are they up to it again? Want some popcorn?

-swipes the popcorn- So....what are we watching? =)

*speaks in really low voice*

Yep, they are. Take a seat, and thanks for the popcorn!


Hey, that was my popcorn!

*throws a tantrum*

You're right. I've always been too sensitive. Its my mother's fault. She liked pressing wild muffins and baking flowers. Yes, she was a simpleton, but she meant well. My father only wanted to bite the heads off his enemies, off anyone's enemies. His jaw muscled were overdeveloped in direct proportion to his brain's underdevelopment. And there I was, trapped between a simpleton and a dolt. No wonder I grew up confused.

-licks each and every individual kernel of popcorn, popped or not, then puts them all back into the container and hands it over-
Here you go. =)
Why didn't anyone ever think to tell her that the hallucinogenic compounds contained within the mushroom bits that give your average wild muffin both their distinctive taste and namesake tendency for insanity could and would be absorbed through the flesh of her armpits....?
Guess she found out the hard way....
Also, please don't take this the wrong way, but your father sounds like a cross between a crocodile and a circus geek chicken decapitator.

Sorry, left for dinner and some show watching.

Yes, you very likely will have the same strong, diametrically opposed feelings about Grimrock as well. :)

This is like the 3 stooges. Hyper, Stilton and Crow.
Hey Crow!
Wo, wo, wo ,wo wo. ;)

Can I just say that I'm sitting here laughing at you lot whispering, fighting over popcorn and throwing tantrums.

You really make a significant part of this Viking's existence golden, and that's the truth. Thank you, guys ;-)

No worries. I'll have to save that madness for another day regardless. Have to save something for the bundles.
Not a problem, and yes, people to have fun with really does improve the situation substantially. =)

My mother was an idiot. She spent the first thirty years of her life thinking she was a walrus. Then my dad came along and bit her head and she calmed down a bit, although she would always be fastidious about tusk hygiene.
And yes, my dad was somewhat unorthodox, although he could also be amazingly affectionate. I remember one birthday I was really pleased with the spear he'd given me and he hugged my so tight that I turned inside out. But dammit, I still loved him.

Well....if nothing else, you can take comfort in the knowledge that they were evidently destined to be together. She had the only head he couldn't bite off. Can't imagine the sheer force of the bites doing her poor already addled mind much good, though.
Remarkable. You don't seem at all like you suffer from an everything inversion. Kudos to you on your overall endurance. And I thought making someone laugh until they literally doubled over in pain was the ultimate expression of affection.

Who's who though?


Glad to be of service, oh bard! ;-)

I hope you're Larry, he's my favourite. You can count me in as Shemp. :)

You're missing out. That is the flavor of licking an ashtray while trying to hold half a mouthful of coffee in one cheek and a chipotle pepper in the other. =)