So very like the one on which he is currently impaled in a most inelegant manner, right at the pinnacle of its sail's topmost point. I think, whatever his current discomfort, this gives him the perfect cover sketch for the eventual inevitable book of his new adventures. And it gives him time for the quiet contemplation he claims he craves. I am almost happy for him, although at present he is praying for a gust of wind that might release him. Wind in any of two senses might do it, actually.
Surely this is a sign from the great Don QuiScottie to gird your loins and come to the aid of your liege lord.You will find him tilting at the third windmill on the left
Dulcinea,after receiving Anomnius Anomnium's latest report, here's hoping you're still on the path of virtue ... ?Jams alias Shaunsowhat we presently ought to worry most about, is obviously our noble Squire's ass.
I am as truly virtuous, Sir, as my Don is truly a noble night. Let us all embrace our delusions, for only the seriously deluded can ever be content in this life (as the Don says, often). And if I have slipped a little, well, I shall return to his arms just as soon as he slips a little too, off of his painful perch (not to mention his high horse, or indeed, his pedestal).
Hee hee "a noble night"? Did I mean a "noble knight"? Ah, no, perhaps, to give him his due, perhaps I did mean a noble night. Or perhaps I didn't...? We know nothing, he often claims... but how does he know that? Good and peaceful nightimes or knight-times to you.
:))))))), dolce Dulcinea,and ... may the peace of the night be upon you and the Don's noble ass.
This is much, much better than Cervantes ever wrote.
Perhaps "better" for being true Dear Claude, for we could not make this up. I can report that there have been events this morning... big events. I awakened to see the faithful Rocinante neighing loudly upwards at the impaled Masterabove, and indeed those old yellowed horses teeth looked as if they were forming a wide grinning laugh, but surely not? That was when I spotted the long rope in a saddle bag that gave me a plan. So... from the highest window the rope was thrown, many many times actually, until eventually the discomfitted and unrested Don did catch it. But this motion moved the sail a bit, causing a scream, ah... poor noble suffering ass, and moving the knight farther from the window, alas. But he secured the rope and we could see it almost reached the ground. Fortunately this gave him the impetus of hope and strength such that, at this new angle, the ass was painfully (it seemed, and sounded) released from its overnight hook, and this allowed the resouceful Don to slide downwards. Unfortunately the Don is no ropemaster, and could not control his slide, and so screams and the smell of the frictions burning flesh of his poor noble hands accompanied his swift descent, which ended with him landing roughly and directly on Rocinante. Well! The old warrior horse was so startled that it darted off westwards, with the screaming Don clinging to its back, at a pace that I would not believe was possible. They disappeared across the far horizon, dear Claude, so I am left here alone, surveying a somewhat bent and stained swinging windmill strut and with the smell of burning noble flesh still lingering. What should I do? Oh.... wait.... another couple of fine strong young men are arriving... What luck! I'm sure they'll think of something to take my mind off my distress. Young men usually do, I am discovering.
I have left my report of these noble events for all to read in your "Roof" post, appropriately for I am truly on top of the world. Sweet Dulcinea should not have worried, for as you will see from my report all has been triumph, not disaster, for the Don.
Claude,Of course. Cervantes wrote fiction. This is reality.
Dulcinea, precious pearl of Perth,oh! So good to hear that your mind by now ropefully will have been taken off its distress. Isn't it lovely how perthuading young men can be?
" Isn't it lovely how perthuading young men can be?"Dearest Saunso, I am surprised to hear that you know this, and that you find it lovely. I may have to change my view of you from the one based on the Don's accounts of your preferences. But he does sometimes miss the obvious, doesn't he?
Ah, Don QuiScottie!forgive me that the soughs spread by Anomnius, Anomnium and Anomnius Anonomnium and even fair for a tiny while were able to send me into Disturbia within the event space, I should have known better.Congratulations on your tremendous triumph, noble Don.After feeding the brave donkey and putting a cap of sleep upon my tiredness I shall follow you on top of the Roof.You may until then enjoy the peace of two nights and pleasant anticipation of faithful Dulcinea's anticipation. Horrido!
Esteemed Princess,warm sind wir und brüderlich,doch warme Brüder sind wir nicht.
Warm on Brokeback Mountain, perhaps? Now I begin to wonder about my Don. All is uncertain in this most uncertain of all uncertain of worlds. But he sleeps the sleep of the deluded innocent now, two fine young men having helped me carry him sleeping from his bath to a quiet bedroom far from the disturbance of my noisy one. They laughed at his noble nakedness, and have promised to soon show me why they were laughing. Why should the Don have all the adventures eh?
and so discomfuddled by all these events am I that I even put a typo in my name. Ha ha. Tis good he sleeps and cannot see (so many things) :)))