the last person to post here wins

what are you panty panty panties at?

This was such a panty serious thread, with proper grown up stories and panty beautiful pictures and now we are gonna come along with our panty talk and lower the panty tone, panty!

Witch wrote:

panties

"...at any rate I'll never go there again..." said the goblin as he picked his way through his mailbox, "...for the life of me, those are the silliest "last post" tea-parties I ever was at..." and just as the goblin said this, the goblin noticed that yet another email had the words "the last person to post here wins, reply notification", "...oh, now that is very curious.." the goblin thought. "...oh but everything is curious today. I think I should go back there and see then..." as the goblin pressed the link which then reads "panties", "...curiouser and curiouser..." exclaimed the goblin continuing "...but we'll soon see about that though..." as the goblin readies his reply and posts "...mortals you step away from sanity if you continue down this path with me here..." but the goblin guessed that it was already too late for many, sanity had never been much fun it seemed

"...and so, may we have the next contestant please..." the goblin
smiled while the lights and camera turned to a new face smiling, she
seemed a little tense but alert while he approached her, "...well hello
there miss, and let's give a big round of applause for..." the goblin
passed the mike towards "...witch..." as the clapping starts and she
shivers shyly the goblin says his ditty "...nice to meet you, to meet
you..." as the audience shout out "...nice..." the goblin continues
"...OK, witch are you alright, you remember the rules of our little game
then, the curtains will open you have ten seconds to memorize
everything you see, then we'll close the curtains and anything you can
remember is yours, it's as simple as that, you're not nervous I
hope...", she looks across to the goblin "...well flea a bit really,
but I will do my best, promise..." and with that the great curtains
open while the audience counts the seconds down on the clock "...ten,
nine, eight, seven..." frantically her mind made a quick picture as her
finger pointed to where the televisions, cameras, laptops, and the car
were, somehow she knew she could win this "...three, two, one..." the
curtains dropped together "...well witch, the big question, can you tell
everyone what you remember then...", "...well goblin..." she starts
with excitement and then bursts out "...there's that Batwoman mask,
that sensuous thin riding crop, the super sexy tight leather corset
with uplifting cups, oh and those pointed high heals, that pair of
handcuffs, and I think I saw a black hood with matching black swimming
trunks .." the fingers of her hands clutch together in expectation to
the goblin who, turning to the audience again, says "...oh and didn't
she do well folks..." as, a bit confused, the goblin dashes behind the
curtain to check for himself just in case she was right

the goblin thanked angelMutley for her comment, saying"... now I know I am going to amaze you though, besides, I think Britain is ready for it too, you see, here in Europe we have a metal water troff we call a "bath tab" which one can fill with hot or cold water depending on what temperature one likes, and then, when one feels it's just the right temperature ones takes off ones garments, which I imagine would be animals skins and war clubs in the West Midlands that is, where one gets into the water..." mentioned the goblin not really knowing how to continue with the concept then but he tried, continuing "....now the next bit is harder to explain but do you remember that stuff that pours out of the poster's ears, well it's not exactly those poster's earwax as far as I know, but it looks like it anyway, it's called "soap" and it melts ones body grease and grime in the water..." at which point the goblin wondered if angelMutley hadn't somehow collapsed on the floor in utter shock here, so the goblin thought it best to wait and see before he would continue in his next post, "...now where are the other poster's socks when you need them..." went the goblin hoping he hadn't gone too quickly here

'Get off my land!' moaned Victor.

Victor Meldrew wrote:

'Get off my land!' moaned Victor.

'Make me' Replied Sayf.

"...ah, but you are all welcome here mortals, I just wanted a thread where everyone wins in their turn from the simplest "I win" to the most intricate of posts, but my own benchmark of myself is not high, it just has to be me, so as to know myself from it..."

'Morning you fuckers, anyone for a brew?' moaned Victor.

Yes please!

"...ah, signs of life..." said the goblin feeling that if that there was one thing the humans did well, it was "greed" but little did they know that they were dealing with a black-belt "last post" poster, "...post at your peril mortals..." he softly warned them without him even reaching across to his coffee, he was fast

then suddenly Victor Mildrew had had a vision, in front of him appeared three goddesses who each in turn asked for his choice amongst them "...my name is Athena goddess of wisdom, choose me for I give you this television...", "...my name is Artemis goddess of the wild, this is your remote control control mortal..." and "...and my name is Aphrodite goddess of love, choose me, the sofa is yours now..." and with that Victor's fate was sealed but which he would choose was still in the deciding, slowly the long month of Sundays continued

the goblin was thinking of his ghosts, saying "...funny, when someone dies, and they're "dead and gone" yet when someone close dies, no matter how long ago that is, it still feels like they're "dead and here"..."

Quote :

The Zombie Queen decreed that death of all males, that they should be flayed alive and then chopped into small pieces and then burnt.....

the goblin noticed that queenbot had probably had a bad day the graveyard, saying "...just let your boyfriend whisper in your ear how very wicked you really are, and you will feel much better my queen...", the goblin seemed to remember that women like to be appreciated for their finer qualities

the goblin was thinking of the glaciers that push down from the mountain tops, and liking them to various factions in history that have vied with one another until only this one seemingly stable present day glacier remains, "...two factors then, make up man's history for me, they are "power" and "authority"..." ventured the goblin, understanding that there are countless examples where power alone has failed to become any resulting authority, and where authority has come about seemingly without power, the goblin continued "...oh, it is so easy to see how power works, but authority, my dear mortals, is more subtle as it works on gradual change to the status quo to its own advantage while feeding us with distractions and fears, authority is our acceptance of it and we are bonded to it, in that where there is no authority things simply fall into anarchism, a power struggle and then back to some authority once more...", the goblin was only pointing out here that to understand the workings of history, this society, or even where one fits into this situation then, one has to ask oneself "where is the authority in this"

repost from a goth's "last post" thread

another glorious posting day and the goblin wishes everyone every success in their wish to escape their own reality a bit longer, "...you're as rich as everything you don't want..." the goblin ventured, adding "...but you're always poor and alone in "dailylife", simply, this system couldn't survive if you were contented in it, it builds "want" in you and turns people into slaves by creating their own discontent here, buy into it and you are owned by it, and the moment ones present distraction ends, one craves the next one, but every distraction returns you to your "dailylife" doesn't it...",

the goblin's next day, the sandman has done his magic and the sun shines on the -10c glistening street outside this busy McDonald's while inside the Europeans eat the ambrosia of American cuisine to the sound of MTV, nextdoor the French restaurant befriends those few odd American tourists who will, no doubt, later visit the McDonald's too, possibly for the their barrings over a coffee but more likely just to be able to switch off, making the goblin conclude that McDonald's was wonderful place by stating simply that, for the mere price of a coffee, one could become an invisible nonentity secure in the bosom of its establishment, "...our chance to bum..." the goblin would say as he switched off the world beyond McDonald's doorway

the goblin was thinking of Janis Joplin who, together with Jimmy Hendrix, formed a tragedy of dying to drugs when they had so much talent, but the truth is that the music industries, and all the other medias for that matter, embrace and profit from those tragedies, for both the fact that people's attention are turned towards to the dead artist, and the fact that the artist is no longer there to get in the way of whatever the producers have in mind for the image they wish to portray here...", and with that the goblin was readying for work again, somehow Geneva, beautiful as it might look in this sunny moment, menaced the goblin's mind with a threat of some inescapable dusty midday heat again, which, if it was like last year, would be unbearable, the muse simply asked "...and how about you goblin, are you tempted by becoming famous, well "in your own absence" that is...", the goblin just laughed, replying "...no way myself, but I bet that that "pact with death" idea crosses every artist's mind at some point, almost like a "it's a wonderful life" film plot in reverse..."

Umm...


...I win.

("...nothing like winning then..." said the goblin)

"...well goblin..." said the slot, calmly continuing "...it's a paradox of course, but one only truly wins here when one is empty inside, nothing left within one that is, otherwise I just laugh waiting for your inevitable return, so perhaps winning outright is admitting some "breaking point" within one...", but the goblin didn't reply, the slot then asked "...so goblin are you beat, or are there more posts from you still...", and yet the goblin was still shuffling his thoughts like some pack of cards in the evening calm, while outside the sound of the odd distant car, at times, cut into continuous chorus of songbirds and his calculations here, "...I suppose slot, I might try to stop posting if I knew that I wasn't posting for myself anymore..." replied the goblin in a moment of honest selfishness, adding "...but more likely I would just try to find myself again, for posting after all, has to be selfish or it is lying, has to be me or it is not me, and above all, has to show me who I am by what I post or it is just some game then..."

repost from elsewhere, reply to someone who had posted

"...thanks..." replied the goblin, continuing "...think of this thread as yours then, a chance to post anything you like and win by it, but any win is short lived as there can only ever be one actual last post, however don't get bogged down by just tagging the last place here, as it isn't "how often one wins here" that wins one anything much, more like "what one puts into those posts" that one wins out of them, as it shows you "who you are by what you post", simply it's a self benchmark here, so ones not really posting against anyone at all bar oneself that is, and one knows when one is actually posting as opposed to just tagging..." ventured the goblin who never tagged or, at least, tried not to

repost from "and how was your morning" thread, elsewhere

the goblin's morning had been quiet, the email had mentioned that the prostrate cancer had moved to bone now, though what that exactly meant hardly sank in as he now realized that he would have to look after dad from this point on, dad who, in his turn, had spent these last years visiting the goblin's vegetated mum each week in the home, "...could be worse..." the goblin repeated to himself, continuing "...cancer, for all its faults, does at least announce itself, I mean, if it had been some sudden disabilitating stroke..., ...", the goblin broke off from talking, or even thinking about if like that, while outside, it had rained into the morning from yesterday when the goblin had first got this mail then, but the rain had stopped by now, the goblin's mental retrenchment was done, he just checked the expiry date of his passport once more, and so many other mundane travel details, knowing that this would be some sort of last wordless way of saying "thank you" to his parents for his own childhood that is, simply, it had to be and it had to be done right too

repost from "welcome new members" thread, elsewhere

the goblin welcomes the new member saying "...it's all hush hush actually and I feel I can trust you here, but this site is, in fact, just a front for the "Homeland security service" and their operatives in their ongoing undercover work to root out the threat of cyber terrorism on the Internet...", the goblin paused knowing that it was all too hard to comprehend in one go, but he continued "...simply think about it, which site would you least expect a cyber attack to originate from, that is between some ultra smart nerdy eastern block country, the Taliban's site, the Nigerian spamming site, well those types of sites on the one hand, and, or, just somewhere like this site here then, where the members can, and do, manage to hit the "post" button from time to time, so that's right the members here are really sharp "Homeland security" operatives only pretending to be otherwise, very snide of them I know but in fact they're probably the best America has..."

repost from the same British "last post" thread

the goblin just looked back over the ransom note, reading

Quote :

"listen you scum Saxons, us Scots have still got "xxxxx" from when we raided her tomb in the pyramid next to the pub and the lobar exchange, and unless you lot pay up promptly we will slowly feed her Scottish cuisine, yes, you heard that Saxons, real kippers, followed by haggis and then a fried Mars bar too, ah, bet that sends shivers down your Saxon spines, well if you had spines that is, but just to prove our good will in the matter, we will now lower the asking price from 90 pence to only 50 pence here, don't contact the police or be warned we will promptly play bagpipes and recite Robbie Burns to show you just how ruthless we can be when we are cornered, just put the money in an envelope marked "PM" and post it, I am looking forward to your speedy cooperation in this matter, I remain., yours faithfully, [s]Gorden Brown[/s] whoops, someone else

and yet somehow the goblin wondered if the members of this forum really had that much money amongst them

repost from "storytime" thread elsewhere

Cookie had somehow known, his mind somehow went back to the point where they had first met in fact, and now, looking at her, the years had sharpened her stare as if highlighted by those thin lines that had formed from the corners of her eyes outwards, "...I had to do it Cookie, you know that, the company's in a bad way and honestly, if there was any other way, believe me I..., ..." she paused, looking into Cookie's face to gage his mind still drowning in the shock of it, numbed with disbelief perhaps but not quite dead, she continued anyway "...I would have kept you...", the slow silence of the office contrasted completely with muffled noise of the factory equipment heard through the door, while they just looked at each other with nothing more to say, in the end he pressed his hands hard down on the elbows of the chair to raise himself, then, standing up, he took the file in some fake army fashion, clasped it in his left hand under his shoulder, and accepted her handshake before making for the door, where, one final glance found her her still looking at him until she then purposely broke off the eye contact to correct something on the computer screen again, the handle opened the door inwards to a incoming wave of machine noise and human commotion as he walked slowly back to his work group though really he just had nothing to say to them, his life seemed all so lost now