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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Rambi who wrote (8561)	3/5/1998 6:28:00 PM
From: jpmac	Respond to of 71178

Hesp: The bloody hunters and their dogs! Avaunt!-- Tread down these serpent's heads. Come hither, Murder; Why dost thou growl at me? Ungrateful hound! Not know thy master? Tear him off! Help! Mercy! Down with your fiery fangs!--I'm not dead yet. [Dies. Thomas Lovell Beddoes, The Bride's Tragedy, I.1, IV.3, V.4 (final scene)

To: Rambi who wrote (8561)	3/5/1998 7:04:00 PM
From: Jacques Chitte	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 71178

Bub watched the entire thing: Rambi's ingenious gambit with the Gargantuan chicken, Drygulch's easy enlistment of the guards' good spirits, and Juan's attempt to slip away using old Sal. He'd followed Rambi at a discreet distance as she stalked her prey. Juan spoke interminably, and Rambi grew steadily more agitated in her bearuing even as she said nothing. Finally the comparative quiet was torn apart by one long ripping volley issuing from the Uzi. Juan jerked in the saddle, and a pattern of darker splotches appeared in his crimson flamenco shirt. Finally, the Uzi ran dry, and a thoroughly dead Juan slumped forward in the saddle. Sal, startled awake, began to slowly move. Her huge rubbery lips and nose tasted the air, and she began a shambling walk toward the Casa. The sudden silence was highlighted only by the long tiiiinglingling of empty 9mm casings hitting the hard dirt. Rambi stood there, ashen and rigid, barely breathing. Her hand was convulsed around the grip of the Uzi, trigger still crushed against its stop. She was unaware of Bub, who slowly walked around to where she could see him. Then he gently closed to within two feet of her. Rambi hadn't moved. She stood there, her entire being clenched about the exhausted subgun. Bub looked at her averted eyes and simply said "... Sorry." Rambi dropped the gun arm to one side, lunged at a surprised Bub, and hugged him fiercely. She buried two sobs in his shoulder. And just as suddenly, she pushed back from him, composed herself with an act of main force, and shot a blazing look at Bub. Its content was pretty clear. This never happened. He returned a look which said you got it. They walked side by side, following Sal. She shuffled right through Eeemerelda's roses and zinnias, following her nose to a pit behind the garden. She dropped to her knees and slid in. Juan's corpse flopped facefirst into the mud. Sal slid down the pit's side on her knees, craning her neck toward a lump in the mud. Her prehensile lips dug up the half-consumed durian, which she ate with eyes closed in enjoyment. The leeches founf Juan and pulled him under the mud with a small wet sound. Sal stretched herself out, chewing durian, feeling better than she had since being similarly immersed in a Jacuzzi half a world away. Buried in mud up to the top of her head, her long ears laid back, she looked positively crocodilian. Bub finally saw fit to speak up. "Lissen, Rambi. Ah know you're sorta shook up right now - but that Medellin fella's gonna start tearin this dirt farm up real soon. His Citation is over at th'strip, all gassed up. Ah bin tole y'all got a rating fer Multi-engine Turbine. Y'all kin tell me to go **** mahse'f, and it's no hard feelings. (Xept maybe that leech deal.) I jus wanna say Ah thaink it's our opportunity ta git outta here ahead of the narcos and that big bird's p.o.'d kinfolk."

To: Rambi who wrote (8561)	3/5/1998 7:56:00 PM
From: Thomas C. White	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

Oh my goodness, now that really is much better. Odzookins!! That absolutely horrid dormouse of a man!! How utterly insufferable!! Earth has not anything to show more wretched!! I truly do not think that I could have withstood the barrage of even one more shattered plural or dangling participle. I know he's flitting about here somewhere. And when I see him I shall be hard put not to box his ears!! After the unspeakable things he did to mine!! Though I may leave it to Lord Byron. He's asked for first licks. "Forget not then the secrets that we hold"...well, you're a bit rusty, old soul. But not bad given the circumstance. Not much time to mull over it. And Rambi, that poor dear, it must have been troubling for her. I shall be forever grateful to her. More than she will ever know. And....oh my...I shall miss her sorely I think. Know. Ahhh me. Oh! too industrious folly! Oh! vain and causeless melancholy! Perhaps we shall meet sometime at some ethereal juncture, some heavenly waystation.....why....is it....can it be.....Rambi, is that...is that you? Why my word, yes it is!! I'd know that thought anywhere! Oh, I'm so very very delighted! Dear girl! I am so very happy! How are you? Hmmm. I do seem to be getting the knack of this confounded transmigration thing. They told me it takes a century or two to get the fit of it. Fear not though. I shan't disturb you as you go about your affairs. Unless of course you should take it upon yourself to invite an old ghost for an occasional tea and scones!...Oh, that's delightful! I'll wait to hear from you then. Assuming I don't muck it up. But too...should you by the by find yourself penning your "to-do" list in iambic pentameter...perhaps an especially well-crafted salutation in a Christmas card...well, you never know, my dear, perhaps I just couldn't resist! I shall take my leave now. Fare thee well!! But if I may, I should like to leave you with a memory of words. I always rather liked this one. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

To: Rambi who wrote (8561)	3/12/1998 12:42:00 AM
From: Drygulch Dan	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

In the confusion which followed taht blast none of the principal players noticed the shadowy yet grizzled old figure slink over to where the forgotten mule was idly browsing... "Geeup Ol Sal, we'd best make a break for it. Mebe jest get thar by th' third daybreak. They'll be ahead o' ussen but we might jest fool em one more time. Seems that ol' Saddam guy needs a finger smacking one more time." With that half whispered thought off they plodded into the creeping darkness past the filthy pit beyond the squalid cockroach infested hut which had been home for so many days and nights. Out of the encampment past the swamplands following the dusty forlorn trail of a road. Southward they crawled and onward through the night and into the next day and the next night and the next. Bearing for the Rios Uruguay. The bugs, the lack of sleep, lack of decent food and the noon time heat took its toll, but the ol prospector knew what stakes he was being dealt and pushed ever onward. Yet a piece of his heart tarried and resisted the drive. It pulled his thoughts back to the humiliation of that night, when he saw HER yet again. His eyes misted as unspoken thoughts trampled through his mind but his sense of duty drove them deeper and Sal ever onwards. Manys the tale that could be told, yet in the end none would ever be shared and the drifter would only be a momentary anonymous face in the crowd, disappearing in the seething mobs that surround the daytime activities at the port of Montevideo. He had arrived just in time the prior night. Now with the dawn his work done, he felt no need to hurry, the urgency had passed once again. The old prospector took an unusual moment of indulgence at a sidewalk cafe that next morning perusing the daily paper for an article on the third page: alert1.clari.net And he smiled in a self-satisfactory way knowing what he knew and wondering what the others would be thinking as word spread around. "Better git a move on, Sal will be gitting ornery and looking for her oats, she would..."