JohnJizmTree
07-07-2004, 08:26 AM
Eric Shitepants - a Norse-like Saga by JaneTreeJew
Once Upon a Time THERE lived a man in the south, before Thongburn caused Grimr's arse to redden with thrush., Redball's son, preached the White Christ in Iceland. He was named Eric Shitepants, and was Caradoc-the-Butch- Moustached one's favorite son; and in those days there was no man like him for flamboyant Hairstyle, manly beauty, well-hung and thrusting, Odin-in-Heaven forsooth he was always thrusting; for in all things earthly he was the first. But he was not the first in good-luck, for by the Ides of Freya, that fate lay with 'Caradoc the crotch-less' - so called because his ass had been unmercifully ripped off in web-battle against Grimr the Mighty Ice giant of Asgard-on-Sea .
Two Nordic women lived in the south, not far from where the David Westerman Islands stand above the SHELL strewn sea (an in-joke there oh Elves and Goblins reading this .Yadda yadda Yadda.. )
'Grizelda the Not-Very-Fair' was the name of the one, and Swanhilde, called 'the Fart-filled', Grockle's daughter, was t'other. They were half-sisters, half woman and half hearted and there were none like them in those days, for they were the fairest of all women, though they had nothing in common except their blood and hatred of having to shop for Salted Herrings and Smorgasbord each beckoning Wodens'day afternoon .
Now of Eric Shitepants, yes, of Grizelda the Not-Very-Fair (named 'tis said in the Norse Edda as 'Grizelda the Unfair' and oft mentioned therein as 'Grizelda the obstinate stubborn Unbudging One" and of "Swanhilde the Fartfilled", there is an incredibly tedious and boring tale to tell which only a Herring Market Moderator could dare risk boring the pants off people with, by spouting forth a torrent of verbal diarrhoea the likes of which have not been seen since Odin caused the Firmament to be cast open over the soil of Myvatn to create the 5 year torrent, to create the Lake seen in Iceland to this modern day.
HOW ERIC DEVELOPED BLUE BALLS
Once upon a time these two fair women saw the light sparkle in Eric Shitepant's eyes in the self-same hour, and tis said his teabags developed an almighty aching . But Eric was their elder by five years and was but taking a peccadilloe with the fair sex .
VINLAND AND THE COTTAGING ELFS
The father of Eric was Caracock-the-butch, sometimes called Caradoc-the-Moustachioed one. He had ONCE been straight and wanted to be a mighty man or Moderator at the Herring market before coming to be known unto some as a Fruitt;, but in fighting with a Bearserker, who fell uponst him as he came up from casting his seeds in a place of public micturation, his 'wrinkled retainers' were hewnst from him, so that afterwards he went around with a higher shriller voice matching the sonorous piercing call of the Syrens or Merwomen of Vinland .
Now the cottaging Elfs of Fabeldyr vow unto 'Drasil the world-tree, that his sacs were removed as being goodst reason for Caracock-the-Moustachioed, known unto elfs as a Fruitt for undergoing the 'Turning', a condition whereby his bottom would be held out as fair game for the regular attentions of Skallagrim the Burgess of the Ringpiece seeking illicit Leisure amongst his fellow men down at the Herring market toilet.
Now the Thrall and those with him on the crest of the fell heard the murmur of the company of Grizelda and Swanhilde as they won the mountain side, though they could not see them because of the Seal-crap encrusted rocks.
"Now it is time to begin and knock these birds from their perch," said the thrall, "for that is an awkward corner for our folk to turn with Whitefire, Thrushbottom and the Axe of Thanebold waiting on the farther side with Puffins."
(Puffins? - Editor).
Yes dammitt, Puffins. So Eric balanced a great stone, as heavy as three elves could lift, on the brow of the rock, and aimed it. Then he pushed and let it go. It smote the Nordoil oil platform in the Fjiord beneath with a crash, three leagues behind the spot where Eric and Skallagrim sat. Then it flew into the air, and, just as Brighteyes turned at the sound, it struck the rim of his helmet, and, bursting the straps on his Y-fronts, tore the golden helm-piece from his **** and carried it away into the gulf beneath.
Skallagrim looked up and saw what had come about. "They have gained the crest of the fell but Eric thou has paid the price greater than having the Minutiae of your fantasy life in Iceland tediously serialised on the Front of the Storm ,"
(To be Continued on Chapter 94).
:mad:
Once Upon a Time THERE lived a man in the south, before Thongburn caused Grimr's arse to redden with thrush., Redball's son, preached the White Christ in Iceland. He was named Eric Shitepants, and was Caradoc-the-Butch- Moustached one's favorite son; and in those days there was no man like him for flamboyant Hairstyle, manly beauty, well-hung and thrusting, Odin-in-Heaven forsooth he was always thrusting; for in all things earthly he was the first. But he was not the first in good-luck, for by the Ides of Freya, that fate lay with 'Caradoc the crotch-less' - so called because his ass had been unmercifully ripped off in web-battle against Grimr the Mighty Ice giant of Asgard-on-Sea .
Two Nordic women lived in the south, not far from where the David Westerman Islands stand above the SHELL strewn sea (an in-joke there oh Elves and Goblins reading this .Yadda yadda Yadda.. )
'Grizelda the Not-Very-Fair' was the name of the one, and Swanhilde, called 'the Fart-filled', Grockle's daughter, was t'other. They were half-sisters, half woman and half hearted and there were none like them in those days, for they were the fairest of all women, though they had nothing in common except their blood and hatred of having to shop for Salted Herrings and Smorgasbord each beckoning Wodens'day afternoon .
Now of Eric Shitepants, yes, of Grizelda the Not-Very-Fair (named 'tis said in the Norse Edda as 'Grizelda the Unfair' and oft mentioned therein as 'Grizelda the obstinate stubborn Unbudging One" and of "Swanhilde the Fartfilled", there is an incredibly tedious and boring tale to tell which only a Herring Market Moderator could dare risk boring the pants off people with, by spouting forth a torrent of verbal diarrhoea the likes of which have not been seen since Odin caused the Firmament to be cast open over the soil of Myvatn to create the 5 year torrent, to create the Lake seen in Iceland to this modern day.
HOW ERIC DEVELOPED BLUE BALLS
Once upon a time these two fair women saw the light sparkle in Eric Shitepant's eyes in the self-same hour, and tis said his teabags developed an almighty aching . But Eric was their elder by five years and was but taking a peccadilloe with the fair sex .
VINLAND AND THE COTTAGING ELFS
The father of Eric was Caracock-the-butch, sometimes called Caradoc-the-Moustachioed one. He had ONCE been straight and wanted to be a mighty man or Moderator at the Herring market before coming to be known unto some as a Fruitt;, but in fighting with a Bearserker, who fell uponst him as he came up from casting his seeds in a place of public micturation, his 'wrinkled retainers' were hewnst from him, so that afterwards he went around with a higher shriller voice matching the sonorous piercing call of the Syrens or Merwomen of Vinland .
Now the cottaging Elfs of Fabeldyr vow unto 'Drasil the world-tree, that his sacs were removed as being goodst reason for Caracock-the-Moustachioed, known unto elfs as a Fruitt for undergoing the 'Turning', a condition whereby his bottom would be held out as fair game for the regular attentions of Skallagrim the Burgess of the Ringpiece seeking illicit Leisure amongst his fellow men down at the Herring market toilet.
Now the Thrall and those with him on the crest of the fell heard the murmur of the company of Grizelda and Swanhilde as they won the mountain side, though they could not see them because of the Seal-crap encrusted rocks.
"Now it is time to begin and knock these birds from their perch," said the thrall, "for that is an awkward corner for our folk to turn with Whitefire, Thrushbottom and the Axe of Thanebold waiting on the farther side with Puffins."
(Puffins? - Editor).
Yes dammitt, Puffins. So Eric balanced a great stone, as heavy as three elves could lift, on the brow of the rock, and aimed it. Then he pushed and let it go. It smote the Nordoil oil platform in the Fjiord beneath with a crash, three leagues behind the spot where Eric and Skallagrim sat. Then it flew into the air, and, just as Brighteyes turned at the sound, it struck the rim of his helmet, and, bursting the straps on his Y-fronts, tore the golden helm-piece from his **** and carried it away into the gulf beneath.
Skallagrim looked up and saw what had come about. "They have gained the crest of the fell but Eric thou has paid the price greater than having the Minutiae of your fantasy life in Iceland tediously serialised on the Front of the Storm ,"
(To be Continued on Chapter 94).
:mad: