Round 29, Hour 1
May. 25th, 2012 08:00 pmYes! Round 29 is starting! And it will be epic. Since it will be Epic, we need to start with a suitable Invocation to the Muse, right?
O for a Muse of fish, that would ascend
The brightest giraffe of invention,
A kingdom for a screen, ninjas to act
And penguins to behold the alien scene!
Then should the bonsai’d Aardvark, like itself,
Reverse the polarity of hedgehogs; and at his heels,
Typing like mad monkeys, should drabble, vid and fic
Sing for their supper.
But pardon, and gentles all,
The flat unfishlike spirits that have dared
On timey-wimey scaffolding to write
So great an epic: can this glowstick light
The tasty tropes of France?
Or may we cram
Within this forty-eight the very hours
That did unloose from time the wandering word?
O, pardon! since ten thousand drabbles may
Push wordcount to a million;
Then let us, ficcers to this great attempt,
On your imaginations do our work.
Suppose within the girdle of these screens
Is now confined the mighty internet,
Whose half-uplofty and unbuttoned front
The garrulous narrow-minded fill with blunders.
Feast now on the perfection of your thoughts:
Into a thousand words divide one zero
And make imaginary numbers;
Think when we talk of cookies, that you taste them
Crunched with coffee i’ the receiving cup;
For 'tis your pasta must now feed our hordes,
Writerly as it is; researching stuff,
Turning the nemesis of anyyear season
Into a plot bunny.
To better this supply,
Admit me Mod unto this gathering.
Now fangirl-like your LJ comm sits back,
Swiftly to write, gladly to read, our crack.
Note: this is really all the fault of
lost_spook.
O for a Muse of fish, that would ascend
The brightest giraffe of invention,
A kingdom for a screen, ninjas to act
And penguins to behold the alien scene!
Then should the bonsai’d Aardvark, like itself,
Reverse the polarity of hedgehogs; and at his heels,
Typing like mad monkeys, should drabble, vid and fic
Sing for their supper.
But pardon, and gentles all,
The flat unfishlike spirits that have dared
On timey-wimey scaffolding to write
So great an epic: can this glowstick light
The tasty tropes of France?
Or may we cram
Within this forty-eight the very hours
That did unloose from time the wandering word?
O, pardon! since ten thousand drabbles may
Push wordcount to a million;
Then let us, ficcers to this great attempt,
On your imaginations do our work.
Suppose within the girdle of these screens
Is now confined the mighty internet,
Whose half-uplofty and unbuttoned front
The garrulous narrow-minded fill with blunders.
Feast now on the perfection of your thoughts:
Into a thousand words divide one zero
And make imaginary numbers;
Think when we talk of cookies, that you taste them
Crunched with coffee i’ the receiving cup;
For 'tis your pasta must now feed our hordes,
Writerly as it is; researching stuff,
Turning the nemesis of any
Into a plot bunny.
To better this supply,
Admit me Mod unto this gathering.
Now fangirl-like your LJ comm sits back,
Swiftly to write, gladly to read, our crack.
Note: this is really all the fault of