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Say What Friday

Hello my darlings,

Sorry I'm late with this today. Been a strange week for me and we'll leave it at that.

Hope everybody had a good week and got a head start on their holiday preprations.

This week's quote has to do with Christmas since the final countdown to the big day begins tomorrow.

"It's beginning to look like Christmas everywhere you go."

Do with it what you will.

Remember to update your numbers before hitting the hay tonight.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 2nd, 2018 09:45 pm (UTC)

And it certainly has begun to look exactly that way around here! I hope the coming week is a better one for you!

Dec. 16th, 2018 06:50 pm (UTC)
does 'its beginning to smell alot like breakfast' to the same tune work? ;) a little Constantine this morning.

“Bloody hell…”

Feeling like he had been hit by a truck…or run over by an entire herd of reindeer, John carefully peeled himself from the floor where he had landed when that magical jolt had thrown him from the top of the staircase some unknown amount of time before. The face of his wristwatch had been shattered, rendering the time piece incapable of revealing the hour to him, and with no windows to allow outside light in, and only the glow of electric lights to see by, there were no reliable indicators of how long he had been unconscious. Long enough to have pissed himself, he realized quickly, but that could have happened when he had hit the floor.

Nothing appeared broken, but he imagined he was going to be one giant bruise down the front of his body from that impact. It was enough of a blow that every muscle screamed in agony as he struggled to his feet, toed off his shoes, and dropped his wet trousers where he stood. His shirt and tie joined the pile, and he leaned on the nearby support beam to work off his socks too, realizing as he did so how close he had come to hitting his head on that post. If he had done that, he’d probably be dead now.

Groaning, he staggered towards the kitchen area, craving a beer…or maybe something stronger…after he appeased the empty growl in his stomach. He gave no thought to his state of undress. No one else was here…no one was ever here…so no one would see him in all his blonde, naked glory.

Sausage and eggs were set to sizzling on the griddle before he remembered his bag of tricks, left, he presumed at the top of the stairs where he had set it down before being hurled from the landing. Stiffly he climbed, singing “It’s beginning to smell a lot like breakfast,” to himself as he did so, not questioning why that particular Christmas tune had pushed into his head. There was no one around to hear him, so why should he care?

At the door, as he bent to retrieve the bag, he put his hand on the latch…and abruptly jerked back when his palm was burned by the red glow of magic he had not expected. Not his wards, not Jaspar’s, but something else. Frowning, he muttered an incantation meant to reverse whatever had gone into effect on that door, but nothing happened. His magic had no effect. Determined to try again, he rummaged through his bag, found a glove that he kept handy, imbued with an anti magic spell to allow him to pick up other magical items when he needed to without them effecting him. But even through its protective covering, the handle was too hot, and would not turn in his hand.

Somehow, his wards had backfired. He was locked into his own bloody house.

“Bollocks…” he started, only to realize that there was smoke now starting to form over the stove.

Breakfast was going to be an inedible burned crisp.

Growling in annoyance, he ran back down to save his breakfast, the bag still sitting by the door, the glove still on his hand. Surely he could undo whatever had been done…but first there was food to be eaten…if it was still fit for consumption.

The door, and its magic, were going to have to wait.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


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