tooleman Wrote:Hey Mike;

I do! I'm typing my fingers to the bone, writing reams of allegoric narration and interaction. Someday I hope its read as an artist’s interpretation of the macabre. Given its own particular idiom, scaring the s@#t out of my reader’, and their children; forever.

JO

fpw Wrote:[SIZE="3"]Well, I'm back. Had a great time, met lots of nice people (including Jo and his wife), hung out with old friends, made some new ones, and played in a band for the first time since the 60s. We didn't sound half bad (at least from where I was sitting) for a bunch of people who had their first rehearsal the day before. [/SIZE]

tooleman Wrote:Hi All,
Mr. Wilson was gracious and displayed a superb affinity for percussion instruments. I wanted to ask him so many questions but found myself tongue-tied………

JO

Susan Wrote:Welcome to the board, Tooleman!

Don't worry, you are in good company in the tongue-tied department. I felt the same way the first time I met Paul. I was so awestruck by the fact that my favorite author was actually willing to speak to me, that I had no idea what to say. Then I just kind of ran away.

But the next time I met him I was able to put at least two decent sentences together. And now I can even have an intelligent conversation with The Man (and I'm no less awestruck by his talent and what a great guy he is). So take heart, it does get better!

Susan

Bluesman Mike Lindner Wrote:Share a little with us, Joe. I regularly post my new lyrics on the board. And if the gang can put up with my nonsense...

tooleman Wrote:Hey Bluesman here's somthing I whipped up for you today, needs allot of work.

Got a great idea, let's kick it arround the RJ web-site and have every one add something, it might be fun.

Remember I'm no pro............Just a-wanna-be

JO

SLEEP
By
Joseph O’Toole

“Welcome back Mr. Figaro, it seems just yesterday we talked” said the demon. “It was yesterday - you little shit! After I fell asleep.” Panic placed an icy hand on Myron’s heart. “Why do you want to talk to me again?” Myron Figaro’s hand came down hard on the coffee table. “I said I’m not interested. What do I have to do, draw you a picture?” Myron’s thoughts drifted back to Epstein and his books. “Now, now Mr. Figaro; we need to ensure you understand the ramification of your actions; after all you did apply.” Anger began to well, replacing panic and fear. “I didn’t apply for nothing, do you hear me…….. NOTHING”.
Evil is not something packaged and marketed, it only exists, and Myron Figaro was looking directly into it’s eye’s. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” Myron whimpered, the anger evaporating as quickly as it came. “No one ever does, that’s the beauty of it. And please try not to brutalize the English language. Correctly stated its: I didn’t apply for anything” A rotting stench rose like garlic from a slit in the demons face. Myron’s stomach turned as he thought, we’re talking business after lunch. Oh God. Like after good Italian meal. Fear was taking hold. “You’re making me sick.” Myron crocked.
“Thank you, but we really must get down to business.” The Demon crossed its haunches, exposing one hoof, “I have exclusive rights to your dreams for the next forty seven years, in exchange for: Giving you licenses’ to do whatever you choose ( in your waking life) as long as it meets the specified conditions of our contract. You can refer to the book, it’s quite clear.”
“I didn’t sign any contract.” Dam that Philip and his book he thought, no conviction left; Myron began to whimper. “Hum….hum, on God no” The demon’s shoulders were moving up and down as it laughed. “AHH, they all say the same thing” the hideous little fellow crooned. “Remember you summoned me, and the book is quite specific.” the smile disappeared. “You don’t sign and there’s a very nasty accident awaiting you in the near future, non-fatal of course, you’ll be bed-ridden and in great pain. I’ll get to look in on you from time to time. While you linger in whatever misery I devise, you’ll have to sleep; and then……”
Myron was going to vomit, the creature was fondling something shapeless and pulsing in it’s own rhythm, it was dripping a dark liquid; Myron put his head between his knees and moaned. “No, please no. The creature was laughing hysterically. ” HAAAA, HAAAAA, HAAAAAA, please excuse me, I can’t help it. You, you……. Really ……ha…ha…ha……Thought……..That… …That it was all a joke, it slapped it’s knee and squeezed the dripping lump with it’s other hand; hard. It suddenly stopped, jutted it’s head forward, and screamed “ITS NO JOKE.” Myron Figaro shoot bolt upright and stared at the creature. “You will either live a lecherous life for forty-seven years and have me visit you in dreams, or suffer until your body gives you peace in the mean time I’ll still visit you.” It’s voice lowered, “you will visit hell either way, while you live or after you die, you must choose; you dammed fool.”

Bluesman Mike Lindner Wrote:All right Joe! I'm about outta time here at my cybercafe, but I'll be visiting friends who are online =all the time,= so let's do it!

fpw Wrote:[SIZE="3"]Well, I'm back. Had a great time, met lots of nice people (including Jo and his wife), hung out with old friends, made some new ones, and played in a band for the first time since the 60s. We didn't sound half bad (at least from where I was sitting) for a bunch of people who had their first rehearsal the day before. [/SIZE]