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Sire At The Renowned 2013 Convention

The year is 2013, the day is the 2nd of January where hundreds of thousands of Bloggers from all over the world have congregated to hear Sire the most renowned blogger ever speak about the coming year. They’ve been waiting ever since the day before when the event was supposed to take place but Sire never turned up. His minions explained that Sire did a bit too much celebrating on New Years eve and was too busy chucking up to present himself to his loyal followers. He would however present himself on the morrow and although dejected people decided to stay rather than to lose their spot.

Many were wondering whether he could outdo his performance which was touted as a massive flop. One has to wonder whether they are here to bask in his greatness or in the hope that he will once again he will make a public spectacle of himself. Read the rest of this entry

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Sire’s Scary Halloween Poem

I suppose you guys have noticed that my blog now has a Halloween feel about it? Something that I do on a constant basis is to change the theme so that it’s in keeping with the current holiday season and seeing how Halloween is just around the corner I thought it only fitting to give it that Halloween look. Lucky for me the FlexSqueeze makes it so easy to do.

Anyway, a little over three years ago, or three Halloweens ago  :wink_ee: I wrote a post called A Poem For Halloween The Night Of Frights and as it turns out that particular post brings in quite a bit of traffic every year around this time. Now I wonder why that is?  :smoke_tb: That particular poem had a twist to it and because it was so long ago I thought it only fitting that I should post another Halloween Poem!

Screams Of Halloween

It’s Halloween, the night of fright
Which child will go missing tonight?
Do they know on who’s door they knock?
For imagined treats, perhaps a shock!

Dark and scary, they venture still
Smiling pumpkins upon window sill
Dares’t they knock upon the door?
Knowing not who knocked before

Did they get the treats they sought?
Or perhaps some dreadful evil wrought
Upon young flesh sweet and innocent
So hungry for fresh souls to torment

Looking around, eerie sounds abound
Is that the baying of the devils hound?
Jack-O-Lantern’s smile or evil grin
A little fear brings goosebumps to skin

Though breath comes fast still they knock
Door creakily opens as though to mock
Candles light a path to their treats
Will they enter or quickly retreat?

Temptation too much for them to bear
They venture slowly in to claim their share
The door swings shut they whirl around
Demons, ghosts and ghouls did abound

Passersby heard their terrified screams
Their flesh did crawl as from their darkest dreams
But walk on by past the house obscene
After all, are not screams part of Halloween?

After posting this I thought that you might like to hear me give you a personal rendition and so I made a video and uploaded it to YouTube. I tried to give it a scary sound but I’m not sure that I succeeded  :laugh_tb:

Well, that’s it my scary friends. Did you enjoy it? Did it make your skin crawl? Which poem did you like best, the one from the other post or this one? If you enjoyed the video, please take the time to head on over to YouTube so you can give it the thumbs up. If you do I won’t have to haunt you  :devil_tb:

If you really liked it you know what to do, write me a comment telling me what you liked about it but most of all share it with your friends on the social media. Give it a Tweet, share it with your FaceBook friends, Stumble it or even give it a Google +1. You know you want to, before the ghouls come to get you.  :devil_tb:

Halloween Zombie

 

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The Magical Garden And The Huge Boob Bush

Disney Animation buildingOnce upon a time, in a land not so very far away, there was a magical garden tended by Sire. Sire’s expertise in the  garden was such that people used to say his green thumb extended right to his shoulder. The garden belonged to the king of the land who, much to his misfortune, married Googleless, the wicked, but buxom, witch.

Like all wicked witches Googleless was vain and her particular vanity extended to her well endowed breasts, which she maintained firm and sag free with her wicked magic. Every night as she sat topless combing her long jet black hair, she would croon to her magic mirror;

Magic Mirror on the wall

Who has the best titties of the all?

And the magic mirror would reply;

Oh Googleles, Queen so fair

Your titties are the best, beyond compare.

To which the witch queen would cackle with delight.

Now, Sire, once a royal knight of old, never liked the king’s choice of a bride, but what could he do for he was a king after all and wanton to have his way. The queen didn’t much like Sire either, most likely because of his closeness to the king, and so she made things difficult for him. Sire however, put up with her crap as he figured that the 4 weeks holiday with the 17.5% loading was well worth the irritation. Besides, he much rather tend the magical garden that joust or fight fire breathing dragons.

One day it got so bad that Sire thought it was time for payback. Knowing of her boob fixation he used all his skills to shape one of the bushes in the garden into the most luscious, titillating breasts that he could ever have imagined.

That night as the wicked witch queen sat brushing her hair, her full breasts staring at her in the mirror;

Mirror Mirror on the wall

Who has the best titties of them all?

To which the mirror replied;

Oh Googleless, Queen so fair

There are better titties than your luscious pair.

Googleless stopped mid stroke, her jaw dropped and the blood drained from her face, but only for a moment, for before you could say Google Slap, her face went red with rage and she let out a tirade of abuse that scorched the gold flakes from the mirror’s frame.

Once she calmed down she compelled the mirror to reveal whose breasts could possible be better than her own. So it was that she learned of Sire’s magical bush. “A bush,” she screams. How can a bush be better than these tits of mine, which are real and silicon free. (Reckon she must have forgotten about the magic she’s been using the vain bitch)

It was then that the mirror showed her Sire’s marvelous creation, and when she saw that they were truly better than her own she had a heart attack and died.

Upon her death a dark veil was lifted from that not so far off land, yet none but Sire knew the part that the boob bush had to play. All that people knew of the bush was that it was truly beautiful and that anyone who rubbed the leafy nipple would find good fortune. No doubt a myth that was started by the mischievous Sire.

Well, I sure hope you liked that short story, but you know it wasn’t completely fictitious. The boob bush did actually exist in my garden and I did actually tell my neighbors that I rubbed it everyday for luck. They loved it and thought the bush was a scream. Not so much the wife though. She wasn’t too impressed about having a boob with a huge nipple in her front garden. After constant nagging I decided, for the sake of some peace and quiet, that I would change the shape of the bush until it looked like the photo below.

manicuredbush

You don’t see the boob? Use your imagination guys to remove the wart on the nipple. :tongue_laugh_ee:

Hey, if you liked the story don’t forget to tweet it or to share it with your FaceBook mates by clicking the like button.

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The Journey To Bloggersville

I woke up to the sounds of the bubbling creek singing in my ears. I looked over at Jandoram who was sleeping peacefully and decided to let him sleep a little longer while I prepared breakfast.

Fortunately there was lots of wood for a fire around our camping ground, and the presence of some wild apple trees made the gathering of some fruit quite easy. After starting the fire I took out some slithers of salted kangaroo meat a plopped them into the pan greased with pig fat. While that was sizzling noisily I deftly sliced some of the apples and threw them in with the roo meat, keeping the rest for later.

Just before breakfast was ready I started to whistle loudly, hoping that the tune “When the Saints Come Marching In” would wake Jandoram. To my reckoning, waking up to my lousy whistling was a whole lot better than being slapped around the face, something my dad was prone to do.

To my surprise he got up instantly, most likely hoping I would stop my infernal whistling. I stopped long enough to tell him to wash up at the creek, and then continued whistling aimlessly out of tune as he set off. I was just spooning my concoction into the plates as Jandoram sat down, all the while toweling his face dry. It was pleasant watching him shoving the food greedily into his face, and I thought to myself how nice it would be to have some company for a change.

After breakfast I showed him how to wash up and pack our bags so that they were evenly balanced which would make traveling that much easier. We then set of for Bloggersville, at town some 14 days away. We walked almost in silence as he was probably still brooding over what happened with the other day when I beat his stepfather senseless. I decided to get the ball rolling by kicking a lump of dried turd.

“Did you know that there are men, famous trackers, who could look at this bit of animal dung, and after examining it they would be able to tell you lots of information about the animal that left it. Things like the type of animal, how long it’s been sitting there and even the sort of food the animal ate. But in the end no matter what they are able to tell you about it, it’s still just a lump of shit.”

Jandoram walks silently by my side for awhile and then says, “Why are you telling me this Sire? Is it important in some way?”

“OK, let’s look at this in another way. There is many a man who does nothing more than boast of his great achievements; This could be the men he’s killed, the women he’s taken to bed or even the money he’s allegedly made. But when it all comes down to it, he’s usually just full of shit. The true hero does not need to shout his accomplishments for all to hear. He normally does not want his escapades to be known as it will draw unwanted attention to him.”

“But what has this to do with that lump of shit we left behind” says the exasperated young boy.

“Nothing much”, I replied, “just that one lump of shit is pretty much the same as the other. You know Jamdoram, not every story has to have a meaning, sometimes they’re good to just pass the time of day.” As I burst out laughing, thinking that after 600 odd years I would have stopped laughing at my own stupid jokes,  he threw me a puzzled look and then said, “Where are we going Sire?”

“Why, to Bloggersville of course.”

“Really? I didn’t think I would ever get to go to Bloggersville. What will we find there?”

“Ah yes, Bloggersville is filled with many wonders and delightful people.  Why, I remember hearing a story of a woman who resides there, I believe her name is Louise, who has in her possession the magical and much coveted Lottie Moon Cook Book, the recipes of which has brought some of the strongest of men to their knees as they begged to savor some of the delicacies it’s produced.  Then there is Holly who just happens to be the most ethical person in Bloggersville. Few will dare to cross her path while throwing ethics to the wind, as it has often been told that Holly can flay the skin off anyone who came within twenty feet of her limber tongue. Why there is not a word in existence that Holly can not put to good use when castigating those who get on her wrong side.

Then there is Heather the fumbling one who once put a magical potion in a cupboard that almost blew four homes into oblivion. Now let’s not forget Anne, formerly of Buttsville, who has devoted her life to finding a toilet seat that is warm to sit on. There are rumors that once she solves this problem she will devise one that lowers automatically once it has been raise.”

“But Sire, surely Bloggersville is not filled with women. Are there no men of valor there?”

“Surley Jandoram, but did no-one ever tell you that behind every great man there is a great woman? One should never discount the importance of a woman when it comes to shaping the world. But you ask of the men of Bloggersville. Let me see…..ah yes! There is the very hardy Jim,whom  many have said has traveled far and wide just to see how far in the known universe a blog will reach. Of course there is Zorlone who is well known for his wondrous cures as the city’s doctor, but I have heard that he would rather be a bard and poet, and that he frequents the bars telling far fetched stories of alien worlds where there exists the mystical Avatar.

But enough talking, lunch draws near and we need to catch some food.

Other posts in the Sire, The Wandering Bard series.


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About Peter Pelliccia"