The student then replied, "Okay. I'd tell him `I hereby give and convey to you all and singular, my estate and interests, rights, claim, title, claim and advantages of and in, said orange, together with all its rind, juice, pulp, and seeds, and all rights and advantages with full power to bite, cut, freeze and otherwise eat, the same, or give the same away with and without the pulp, juice, rind and seeds, anything herein before or hereinafter or in any deed, or deeds, instruments of whatever nature or kind whatsoever to the contrary in anywise notwithstanding...'"
The copywriter says: "I've always dreamed of writing the great American novel and having my work studied in schools across the land. I'd like to go to a tropical island where I can concentrate and write my masterpiece."
The Genie says, "No problem!" and poof! The copywriter is gone.
The art director says: "I want to create a painting so beautiful that it would hang in the Louvre Museum in Paris for all the world to admire. I want to go to the French countryside to work on my painting."
The Genie says, "Your wish is granted!" and poof! The art director is gone.
The Genie then turns to the account executive and says, "And what is your wish?"
The account executive says, "I want those two assholes back here right now."
"He's so optimistic he'd buy a burial suit with two pairs of pants."
Chuck Tanner.
"In primitive society, when native tribes beat the ground with clubs and yelled, it was called witchcraft; today, in civilized society, it is called golf."
Anonymous.
"Procrastination gives you something to look forward to."
Joan Konner.
The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a
good ending; and to have the two as close together as possible.
George Burns
Santa Claus has the right idea. Visit people only once a year.
Victor Borge
Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint.
Mark Twain
By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy;
if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher.
Socrates
@ How many editors does it take to change a light bulb?
"Do we have to get author's approval for this?"
Two, one to change the bulb and one to issue a rejection slip to the old bulb.
@ How many proofreaders does it take to change a light bulb?
Proofreaders aren't supposed to change light bulbs. They should just query them.
@ How many mystery writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Two. One to screw it in almost all the way in and the other to give it a suprising twist at the end.
@ How many writers does it take to change a light bulb?
Two. One to change the bulb and one to tell a long story about it.
@ How many literary critics does it take to change a light bulb?
Literary critics don't know how, but rest assured they'll find something wrong with the way you do it.
Answer: Attach a lock to the ring.
Send it to her.
She attaches her own lock and sends it back.
You remove your lock and send it back to her.
She removes her lock.
Even the uninhabited island's owner didn't realise how perfectly heart-shaped the island off the Croatian coast was until he was swamped with requests from lovers to stay there.
"It has been incredible. We think it is the most perfect heart-shaped island in the world," said Vlado Juresko whose family owns the 130,000 square yard islet of Galesnjak, hastily redubbed Lovers' Island.
"Nobody lives there so if lovers really do want to spend time alone it's the perfect desert island.
"We always thought it looked a bit like a heart but since it's been on Google Earth everyone else has seen it too and the whole world seems to want to stay here."
He replies, "I figure when the bear gets close to us, we'll jump down and make a run for it."
The second guy says, "Are you crazy? We both know you can't outrun a full-grown grizzly bear."
The first guy says, "I don't have to outrun the bear, I only have to outrun you!"
A doctor, an engineer, and a fungal taxonomist arrived at The Pearly Gates.
The doctor said how he'd healed the sick, helped the lame; but he was a sinner and was sent to Hell.
The engineer told how he'd built homes for the homeless, etc.; but he messed up the environment, so he was sent to Hell.
The fungal taxonomist was frightened by all this, but as soon as he mentioned his occupation, God said "You've already been thru Hell, Welcome to Heaven."
Melasurey is a city where nothing is impossible. IT is a places of power & magic. Some of these powers are of the light, and some of the dark. Powers of creation and powers of destruction. Neither good nor evil. Just raw power, twisting and curling with energy and chaos in its primal purity.
There are some unfortunate beings, creatures that pre-date civilizations that can sense, and track down these places of power. And if they wanted to, if they were willful enough, if they were cunning enough to deceive the molecules of life, if they were desperate enough, some of these beings would be able to steal the raw powers of the universe.
These people become greedy, though. After the first taste of unfiltered unadulterated magic flowing through their veins, they become violently addicted to the magic. They need it every moment of their lives, until their hunger consumes them from the inside, a horrible fire that starts from their hurts and ends in their ashes.
The city of Melasurey was one such place. One of the epicentric ones. It's the place where gods come to die, where demons and monsters crawl in the dark. It's the place where angels and devils meet in the intrigue of the night, and where men are NOT mortal. It's the place where gods are born, where light angels dance in the starlight.
Jestar knocked on the shack door, his face stern and amused. It had been a long journey. But he was finally here. He sensed the wondrous things that were going on around him, but he couldn't see them. Not yet.
The shack was a mass of wood barely held together by nails and sweat. The door opened, just a bit at first, letting out a dim shine of red light. An old, old eye looked out from the gap. Jestar met the ancient eye with his own, squinting slightly, his lips curling to form a smile. The gap widened, and red light streamed out. The eye had disappeared, and the threshold was empty. Jestar felt the barrier tentatively and found no blocks. He persisted inside and sought his prize.
On the chair was a… creature. It was shaped like a baby, except it must have been mixed up in some other gene pool before coming into this world. Its deformed face crunched up, it's obscenely short legs lying uselessly on the chair. It had long hands; one of them was healthy but thin, and the other was just skin and bones. It was clothed in a huge rag dirtier than Jestar's shoe.
Despite appearances, Jestar smiled. And asked, “Is it here?”
Who could have thought the little creature could speak? But, it did. And it had a perfectly normal voice. “Yes, it is. Remember your word, Lord Jestar. I need it.”
The 'Lord' Jestar gave a frozen smile, “I don't go by that anymore. But, that's another story. I remember my words. All of them. You'll get what you want, you cheat.”
The creature ignored his last words, and simply nodded. It turned its face to one of the walls, and its eyes blazed red. A flick of the finger and several clicks of the tongue, and part of the wall was replaced with a door, runes covering it from head to toe, patterned lines and ancient symbols splattered all over.
Jestar waved a hand over the door, and everything THUD on it disappeared. As soon as the runes were gone, the doorframe began to THUD rattle, slowly at first but the shaking became more violent each moment. THUD THUD
Another wave stopped the rattling, and there was only a piercing silence in the air. Jestar opened the door and walked through, finally coming face to face with the thing he'd been searching for.
The doorway had opened to a large plateau, dusty and red. Lying on the dusty ground stretching from one horizon to the other was a great being on brink of utter rot. The air was filthy and foul, stagnant and dead. Quite unlike the god. He was being held down by a thousand thousand snakes, each longer and bigger than the last, and no matter how much the god struggled, they only tightened their tenacious hold.
There are gods born every second. If they're lucky, they get to die.
Jestar smiled viciously. He stepped closer to the great being, his body perfusing with dark light energy. “The moment of my triumph, old fraud. It's finally here.” Within moments, he was standing on top of its chest, a sword in his hand, its tip sharper than moonlight. “Vi Veri Mortuus Deux Vivus Vici.” By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the dead god. He liked making pop culture references. But nobody every seemed to get them.
The sword dug deep, and wound even deeper still. Had Jestar not silenced the god before coming in, he'd be short of two eardrums and a lot of blood vessels. The god screamed silently into the red night, and it was louder than the end of the world. The god power flowed out of the gaping wound, and into Jestar filling his soul with endless vitality. For a moment, just a little bit of the burning white flow of energy left through the place where the door had been. Jestar remembered his words.
Melasurey is the place where gods are born, where gods come to die, and where they're taken to be killed.
The shack was no longer there- only rubble of wood and steel. Standing in front of it was a handsome woman no older than thirty winters. One of her hands was atrophied and bony. She held onto her rags with her healthy hand. Looking down on her damaged limb, she smiled. “Thank you, Lord Jestar.” Said the lady in rags to the night air. The only ones who heard her words were the light angels, and they were certainly chatty little creatures…