Jun. 30th, 2005

morreth: (Default)
Українофільська пісня
Виктор Байрак

Жнива шпаками густо вкрились,
Дерева виплюнули зілля,
Кури несуться, як сказились,
Когут співа, мов з божевілля.

В очеретах човпеться риба,
Червінці їй до чрева правлять,
Метелик взір кульбабку здибав,
Її стеблом прямує равлик.

Пацюк повзе до зерносховищ,
В ожередах бідують миші...
Хіба з російскої так мовиш?
Отож я з неї і не пишу!

____________________

Бреше. На самом деле пишет :).
morreth: (Default)
The wind rises electric. She's soft and warm and almost weightless. Her perfume is sweet promise that brings tears to my eyes. I tell her that everything will be all right; that I'll save her from whatever she's scared and take her far far away. I tell her that I love her. The silencer makes a whisper of the gunshot. I hold her close until she's gone. I'll never know what she was running from. I'll cash her check in the morning.
______

It's time to prove to your friends that you're worth a damn. Sometimes that means dying, sometimes it means killing a whole lot of people.

______

Relevant to said mission is the following query I now put forth to you. Said query concerning matters strictly spatial in nature... Wherein this most streamlined and trunkless of transports, boner-inspiring though it may be, wherein are we to reposit our recently deceased cargo?
_______

[Hartigan is on his way to go save a girl from a rapist]
Bob: I'm gonna get on the horn and wait for back-up. We're gonna wait for back-up!
John Hartigan: Sure, Bob. You'll call for back-up. And we'll sit on our hands while that Roark brat gets his sick thrills from viction number four. Victim number four! Nancy Callahan. Age 11. She'll be raped and slashed to ribbons. And that back-up we're waiting on will just happen to show up late enough to let Roark get back home to his U.S. Senator daddy and everything will be fine until Junior gets the itch again.
Bob: Take a deep breath, Hartigan. Settle down and think straight. You're pushing 60. You've got a bum ticker. You're not saving anybody.
John Hartigan: You've got a great attitude, Bob. You're a great cop. A real credit to the force, you are.
Bob: Eileen's home waiting for you. Think about Eileen.
John Hartigan: Heck, Bob. Maybe you're right.
Bob: I'm glad to hear you're finally talking sense!
[Hartigan punches Bob in the face]
John Hartigan: [narrating] Hell of a way to end a partnership. Hell of a way to start my retirement.
________

There's wrong, and there's wrong, and there's *this*.

________

I know it's pretty damn weird to eat people.

________

И специально для Антрекота :)

I check the list. Rubber tubing, gas, saw, gloves, cuffs, razor wire, hatchet, Gladys, and my mitts.
morreth: (Default)
Что один таварисч интересуется, "почему в моем творчестветак много римейков".

Передайте таварисчу, что я не знаю, как у него получилось много. Римейков у меня два - ПТСР и "Сердце меча". Может, он счет ведет как дикарь из мумбо-юмбо: один-два-много. Но, в общем, их два, причем второй не дописан.

"Ваше благородие" - сиквел, а не римейк. Правда, я не знаю, как это объяснить таварисчу из мумбо-юмбо.

Ну и есть еще два никоим боком не сиквела и не римейка (один всоавторстве с Кинн и Антрекотом). такчтоя теряюсь в догадках, что значит "много".

А на вопрос "почему" ответ простой: потомучто мн енравится рассказывать по-своему любимые мной истории. И как к этому относятся таварисчи из мумбо-юмбо, мне наплевать.

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