The Epic Saga Begins!
AKA
Now I need a title for my Epic Saga
"Are you all right?" Val_Kyrie asked cautiously.
"All right? Why shouldn't I be all right? What makes you think I'm not all right?" I asked, shredding the paper I was holding. "I mean, everything's fine! Why should I worry? The very idea! Ahaha... Val?"
"Yes, oh Amazing One?"
"Be quiet."
"Me thinks milady doth protest too much," Edrahil muttered and went off to write on his own.
I am beginning to suspect that he is keeping his own journal, probably on livejournal... anyway. I have arrived at my college and hope to post regularly as soon as I have an idea of what regularly looks like. I'm currently reading the Iliad and doing the little head tilting thing. (Tilt, tilt, tilt- 'Err, it still isn't making sense, I like it because it's so strange but I really didn't think it would be this strange.' >begins tilting left< 'Nope, I still don't understand why they go on and on about Alexandros' clothing and choice of weapons, nor why the Achians are constantly described as 'flowing haired' I should think it would get in the way...)
Ahem... I have deviated from the point of this post. I was going to post this separately, but no, it shall go here.... it is fitting. Behold!
Third World/Class?
Take One
"Papers!" the guard snapped.
Nervously the peasant held them out.
The guard scanned them. "I need all your papers, comrade," he growled.
The peasant looked confused, the pulled out every paper he had on him, including a copy of the Pravda.
After five minutes, the guard returned them. "Over there," he said, pointing to a door.
In the room behind the door, a man sat behind a desk. "Comrade..."
"Alexe Sergevitch Smirnov," the peasant supplied quickly.
"Comrade Sminrov," the official began. "What takes you from our glorious worker's paradise?"
"My uncle lives in France and he is very ill."
"What with?"
"Consumption."
"Why did you pay for your fare in ruble coins?"
"Because I don't have any paper money."
The official seemed slightly disappointed, then directed him to a man standing beside a pile of suitcases. Alexe Sergevitch was thoroughly searched, down to the boots, and then his small suitcase was also searched. When the inspection was finished, Alexe Sergevitch was minus all the food he carried, a small eating knife, his father's watch and all but five ruble coins. The rest had paid the fee for the inspection.
"I should have stayed in my dacha and played Durak!"
Take Two
"Papers!" the guard snapped.
Nervously the passenger held them out.
The guard scanned them. "I need all your papers, sir," he growled.
The passenger looked confused, the pulled out every paper he had on him, including a copy of the Times.
After five minutes, the guard returned them. "Over there," he said, pointing to a door. In the room behind the door, a man sat behind a desk. "Mr...."
"Alex Smith," the passenger supplied quickly.
"Mr. Smit," the official began. "What takes you from our glorious country?"
"My uncle lives in Canada and he is very ill."
"What with?"
"TB."
"Why did you pay for your fare with cash?"
"Because I don't approve of credit cards."
The official seemed slightly disappointed, then directed him to a man standing beside a pile of suitcases. Alex Smith was thoroughly searched, down to the boots, and then his small suitcase was also searched. When the inspection was finished, Alex Smith was minus all the food he carried, a plastic fork he picked up at the airport deli, his father's watch and all but five dollars. The rest had paid the fee for the inspection.
"I should have stayed in my house and played Go Fish!"
Now I need a title for my Epic Saga
"Are you all right?" Val_Kyrie asked cautiously.
"All right? Why shouldn't I be all right? What makes you think I'm not all right?" I asked, shredding the paper I was holding. "I mean, everything's fine! Why should I worry? The very idea! Ahaha... Val?"
"Yes, oh Amazing One?"
"Be quiet."
"Me thinks milady doth protest too much," Edrahil muttered and went off to write on his own.
I am beginning to suspect that he is keeping his own journal, probably on livejournal... anyway. I have arrived at my college and hope to post regularly as soon as I have an idea of what regularly looks like. I'm currently reading the Iliad and doing the little head tilting thing. (Tilt, tilt, tilt- 'Err, it still isn't making sense, I like it because it's so strange but I really didn't think it would be this strange.' >begins tilting left< 'Nope, I still don't understand why they go on and on about Alexandros' clothing and choice of weapons, nor why the Achians are constantly described as 'flowing haired' I should think it would get in the way...)
Ahem... I have deviated from the point of this post. I was going to post this separately, but no, it shall go here.... it is fitting. Behold!
Third World/Class?
Take One
"Papers!" the guard snapped.
Nervously the peasant held them out.
The guard scanned them. "I need all your papers, comrade," he growled.
The peasant looked confused, the pulled out every paper he had on him, including a copy of the Pravda.
After five minutes, the guard returned them. "Over there," he said, pointing to a door.
In the room behind the door, a man sat behind a desk. "Comrade..."
"Alexe Sergevitch Smirnov," the peasant supplied quickly.
"Comrade Sminrov," the official began. "What takes you from our glorious worker's paradise?"
"My uncle lives in France and he is very ill."
"What with?"
"Consumption."
"Why did you pay for your fare in ruble coins?"
"Because I don't have any paper money."
The official seemed slightly disappointed, then directed him to a man standing beside a pile of suitcases. Alexe Sergevitch was thoroughly searched, down to the boots, and then his small suitcase was also searched. When the inspection was finished, Alexe Sergevitch was minus all the food he carried, a small eating knife, his father's watch and all but five ruble coins. The rest had paid the fee for the inspection.
"I should have stayed in my dacha and played Durak!"
Take Two
"Papers!" the guard snapped.
Nervously the passenger held them out.
The guard scanned them. "I need all your papers, sir," he growled.
The passenger looked confused, the pulled out every paper he had on him, including a copy of the Times.
After five minutes, the guard returned them. "Over there," he said, pointing to a door. In the room behind the door, a man sat behind a desk. "Mr...."
"Alex Smith," the passenger supplied quickly.
"Mr. Smit," the official began. "What takes you from our glorious country?"
"My uncle lives in Canada and he is very ill."
"What with?"
"TB."
"Why did you pay for your fare with cash?"
"Because I don't approve of credit cards."
The official seemed slightly disappointed, then directed him to a man standing beside a pile of suitcases. Alex Smith was thoroughly searched, down to the boots, and then his small suitcase was also searched. When the inspection was finished, Alex Smith was minus all the food he carried, a plastic fork he picked up at the airport deli, his father's watch and all but five dollars. The rest had paid the fee for the inspection.
"I should have stayed in my house and played Go Fish!"
