Topher Lydon
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Everything posted by Topher Lydon
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Perspective, I wrote this from Brian's perspective and I stand by it. Andrew's, I am sure, will be very different. But it does amuse me to give a little bad guy energy. It's the Alex Ryder trope, where MI6 are ALWAYS the bad guys to Ryder. I mean you'd have to be to send a 14 year old off to be a spy like that. So remember it's a trope and I am having fun with it. No CSIS agents were harmed in the filming of this story... Ninja Pastry Chef Giraffe's however...
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Mine's a drunk intern, with scissors... hacking my beautiful writing to pieces and inserting BOLD type in for no good reason other than it's drunk and thinks it's funny. :: grumbles about the hours long argument over the spelling of Pajamas... ::
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Well, they are kind of riding into a trap, eyes wide open.
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Ha my delivery required a signiture the other day Pretty little young woman standing there holding onto my bottle of Bailey's tittering and asking if I was having a Merry Christmas... Me being a grump said no, signed the digital thingy, and slammed the door on it. :: grumbles about not having time for Twenty somethings wanting to go on a dino safari :: for clarification, in my old age I am looking more and more like Richard Attenborough of Jurassic Park fame, hat and white beard included. (the jokes I put up with on my trips into town are annoying)
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shhh later
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Abigail in this one, powerhouse.
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**Chapter 17: The Crucible of Home ** The Tremont Hotel’s dining room was a universe away from the smoky, sawdust-covered floor of the Gilded Cage. It existed in a different stratum of reality, a plane of existence built on gilt edges, whispered fortunes, and the absolute, unspoken certainty of its own permanence. It was a cathedral of crystal. Dozens of chandeliers, each a waterfall of frozen light, dripped from a ceiling painted with fat, rosy-cheeked cherubs cavorting amongst cl
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Are you trying to give our poor baptist boy a stroke?
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i mean the sheer trail of shocked and horrified pointing fingers at the horrifically cruel shame that lovely Mustang has to wear... screaming Chicken! The indignity... that Enrico can follow right to him.
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I very nearly bought one of this back in 96. Brown with that same Trans-am decal on the hood (my god some people have no... there's wrong and there's just plain wrong!) I didn't like how the gears slipped on it... but it was so very very 80's. I bought a Chevy in the end... I always was more a Pickup man... but man I wanted that pony...
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Hello Horse:
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Not to mention being America's most wanted man when the CIA realize he's loose.
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He'd just had enough of the bad food, and the 2 star accommodation. His Yelp review is going to be harsh.
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Morning... looks like those Carter boys are at it again. Bawss Abernathy's gonna be mighty upset.
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Chapter Thirteen Sunday, December 22nd, 2019. 10:00 A.M. CST. WORLD END: T-minus 80 days, 18 hours, and 00 minutes. The Church of the Fount, Ruston Parish, Louisiana. The local parish church was a squat, austere wooden building, its pale blue paint peeling beneath the relentless weight of the humidity. It sat at the heart of the community, smelling of old timber, cheap coffee, and a powerful, cloying sweetness—the scent of a congregation dedicated to absolute, unquestioning c
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Kenny *is* a badass! All he wants is a bit of quiet Steve time, without chaos, explosions and having to use a tank to pick up his boyfriend from Wolf's daycare system.
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Without a shadow of a doubt, Enrico is nuts.
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you know there's an entire floor in that building devoted solely to buying and maintaining his hats...
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Giraffe boys are the best, just ask Alex
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Enrico's guys will come to them.
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They're at the wrong Dam
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I just like the image of a little Alex in his pajamas in front of the TV eating his Cheerios, unaware that across the continent his future friend Kenny is sneaking off to his friend Brian's so he can watch the exact same Cartoon. Cheers me up
