[CoPM] The King reports:
Desolate loving in your eyes
You used an' made my life so sweet
Step out like a god found child
I saw your eyes across the street
Who would be the fool to take you
Be more than just kind
Step into a life of maybe
Love is hard to find
In the church of the poison mind
The Eighteenth Century Enlightenment Duellist (Please play Handel's 'Sarabande' as he approaches) reports:
A taste of my own medicine, I suppose.
A day after planting a bomb on someone else's door, I was in my room when I heard some rustling outside my door. Something knocked against the foot of my door. Several loud knocks.
I enquired who it was. No reply. Where's the charm, the courtesy, the delightful moustache-twirling of today's villainy?
Anyway, I immediately suspected a bomb, and so used msn messenger to ask a nearby friend to drop by to check that there was a bomb on the door. I left instructions that under no account was she to attempt to remove it, and if needs be, I would give her step-by-step instructions.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door. My friend said, "There's something..." BANG
The bomb killed both of us, as I was standing just behind the door.
My last bequest is to donate my duelling pistols, my ruffled silk shirts, and my vast collection of illegal eighteenth century French porn to Cambridge University.
Deputy Police Chief Div reports:
Hi! I just got shot in the back by Agent The Reformed and Benevolent Sir Maxwell D'Hammeur Argentiere BSc SSc AKA [CoPM] One of Mike Cripps' minions.
Agent The Reformed and Benevolent Sir Maxwell D'Hammeur Argentiere BSc SSc AKA [CoPM] One of Mike Cripps' minions reports:
Maxwell had received great acclaim after his debut as a police officer, but realised that there was one more target to go for yet. The boss's instructions were clear; Deputy Police Chief Div had to be eliminated. However, Maxwell had more pressing issues to consider. Such as lunch. He met up with a couple of shady agents he found in a local downtrodden establishment, and an attractive looking corpse, who happened to be passing. And much food was consumed and there was much rejoicing!!
Down to business then. Well, why not extend a little hospitality to the visiting agents first? So Maxwell and his entourage passed through some of the finest colleges of the land, surveying the architecture and delights of Cambridge's finest. Leaving one college, a familiar figure approached. Maxwell felt a hollowness inside, as he recognised the ghostly figure; an innocent victim of Maxwell's first incarnation. He shuddered, and realised he had far to go before his true redemption could be complete.
The agents and corpse were interested in Maxwell's history, and his business in all these colleges. Maxwell related tales of heroism, stupidity and luck, and the agents were intrigued all the more. Maxwell suggested that a visit to the all-powerful boss could be in order, but he did not deem Maxwell and party to be worthy of his time.
Maxwell decided to head home, and queried to go back through King's or
Clare. At this point Agent Luke spoke up:
"Oh Maxwell, surely we cannot end our adventure without seeing your
masterful skills in action. Let us go through King's, as you will surely
kill your target Deputy Police Chief Div!" he said. Maxwell concurred, and indeed
demonstrated great skill in relieving the police force of its corrupt
element. The agents and corpse present were greatly intrigued, and both
agents requested OMITS. (Official Minion In Training Status)
Maxwell checked with the boss, who was delighted to have 2 such
enthusiastic trainees on the books. The boss also approved of the kill,
remarking how the police force was shaping up nicely with his plans,
before breaking off into unintelligible manic laughter.
Maxwell had taken both his targets out within 48 hours of signing up to the force. He finally felt the burden of guilt lightening, that his efforts were being seen on high. Could his sins be forgiven? Was there more he yet had to do? He had no targets left, so could do no more for now. But he waited, waiting for the sign once more. When the boss called, he would be ready.
Neo reports:
Lurked target lots. They weren't where I was. It's possible I may have been in entirely the wrong place at the wrong time. D'oh!
My attempts aren't lame, they're just low-key.
Jenny Chase reports:
It's here. There is no denying it; it is time for the biggest mafia left to attempt a cleanup operation. There are no mafias in Cambridge, but there may be one mafia.
Myself and my godchild took some time out for a bridge surveillance operation out of town on the Cam. This coincided with targets' society meeting under said bridge. We had a Plan, and if the Plan failed, we had a CPS and a rifle.
Unfortunately, after 30 minutes lurking in the rain and the hail, Aidan was distracted by a phone call at the moment the target arrived. I watched the target move towards the oblivious Aidan, while myself trapped on the other side of a four-lane motorway. I moved as fast as the traffic allowed to get behind the target and on the right side of the road, but I was going too slowly... what to do? Call, jeopardise the chances of a kill, and protect my oblivious kid? Or keep moving silently towards the target, who was as oblivious to me as Aidan to him?
Maternal instincts could do only one thing: cursing poor Aidan's true mother, who has a knack of phoning at really inappropriate times, I called his name and indicated the approaching target. Target realised I was far too close for comfort, in the middle of the motorway, with a rifle. Aidan swung the CPS and chased him up the road. I ran too, but there were rather fast cars in the way. Target dropped rucksack to improve his forward progress, but his friends retrieved it from us.
We ran around a bit and then went home.
Michael Richards reports:
As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives. OK, so maybe it wasn’t St. Ives. And rather than a man with seven wives, more a lady with 5 ‘special friends’. And only one of those friends was with her. But still, fairly accurate nonetheless.
Heading over to destination X, I spotted Aidan Robison waiting on a bridge. I decided to approach him and say hello, being the good natured chap I am. However, I failed to spot the young lady standing in the middle of the road. She shouted something to the effect of "Look! It’s him!" and then the pair of them ran towards me to give me a cuddle. Or so I presume. There is nothing more that I’d prefer to do than have a nice long get together with Miss Chase and Master Robison, but at that point I realised I was late for a very important meeting. Unfortunately that meant I had to run off without having a good chat, but I hope that’s something we can rectify in the near future.
Aidan Robison reports:
A mobile phone is an invaluable tool for an assassin for several reasons. None of these reasons, however, are that they can go off just before a target comes into view, resulting in you being distracted for far too long.
Michael Brooks reports:
I took a visit to see one of my assassins tonight. It was about time I returned a mailbomb to Neill Campbell. Upon entering his college and finding my way through to the mailroom, I bumped into a line of people waiting to go to formal hall. I quickly went into the courtyard and bumped into a friend. I asked to borrow his formal gown to see if I could repeat the attempt in disguise. He fetched the gown and I put it on. I looked stupid. I then decided to leave.
Blood Is The Best Lubricant reports:
Instead of a trap door, what about a trap window? The guy looks out it, and if he leans too far, he falls out. Wait. I guess that's like a regular window.
Pemmer reports:
I accessed my target's hostel today thanks to someone kindly letting me in on their way out. It would help if the buzzer system was working.
I went around the hostel and found his room. I knocked on his door and received no response. Thinking that he may only open the door to people he knew were not assassins, I took out a boardmarker pen and painted a silhouette of a figure on the outside lens of his spyhole. Realising that this was stupid, I rubbed it off and hid in the bathroom down the corridor to wait for the sound of his return. After a few false alarms of people trying the door and having wasted half an hour of my life as well as being gassed by Domestos vapour, I decided McDonalds might be a better bet.
Janet Jackson's Nipple Tassel reports:
She needs attention
So let's make an impression
We'll hit the headlines.
Uncovered, exposed
Crying out to the masses
Look, look at me boys!
Maximum coverage
Prime time, googling downloads
The star of the show!
Michael Brooks reports:
On my way out in a rush to a supervision, I opened my door in the usual way from a distance with string. With no usual explosion I proceeded to leave and stopped just before the door to find a novel bomb outside. It was a rape alarm held to an explosive by elastic bands, with a trigger tag connected to some cotton. The cotton was stretched across the door and taped to the other doorpost. I stepped over it and went off to my supervision to deal with it later.
In case you are wondering, I diffused it successfully on my return. Considering the rape alarm used is similar to those available from Newnham college, I suspect Simon Ford of this (in what has been many) bomb attempts... yawn.
Miss Teen Dungeon reports:
Aftyr manie years of lyving in a male dominated societie, ye have finally reached of age. Ye have winned thine laste beautie conteste for thee tyme of actione nears. Ye muste stepe into thee dungeon and show men that a ladie can accompolishe just as much as they can, for you are:
Miss Teen Dungeon!
Ye find yeself in yon dungeon. Ye see a WINDOW and a DOOR. On thee floore lyeth a RIBBON. Obvious exits are NORTH, SOUTH and WONDERLAND.
What wouldst thou deau?
> Well, first off, Ah’ll pick up the purty ribbon and put it in ma hair.
PARSE ERROR! PARSE ERROR! PARSE ERROR!
> Well, excuse ma. Ah hope ah don’t need to get my pop to sort ya out now. That wouldn’t be a nice sight now, would it?
Ummm, OK, ribbon picked up and in hair as required.
> Well now. Ah think Ah’d like to go to the beauty salon an’get ma nails done.
ERROR, DO NOT UNDERSTAND ‘BEAUTY SALON’. PLEASE REPHRASE.
> Pop! This ol’ computer’s bein’ mean to mah!
OK. Ye approacheth thee beauty salon. Ye getteth thine nails done really nicely. Ye see some nice COSMETIC SHAMPOO and a TELEPATHIC GRAPE. Obvious exits are EAST, WEST and FLUFFY.
> Ah think ah’ll say hello to that nice Mr. Telepathic grape, and then ah’ll go for a nice little stroll west.
Ye arrivest in thee middle of a shoppinge centrer. A vaste swarme of men, amazed at thine goode lookes, chargeth towardes thee. What dost thou deau?
> Ah’ll fight off the brutes with ma handbag that ma mom gave ma. She taught ma that ma body was ma own and that no man had any right to such beauty, unless he was a frail little old millionaire who wanted to marry ma.
Ye fighteth off thee evile men with thine handbag like a true warrior! Bash! Wallop! Your attacks all hit home and thee men run away cowerering from thee. Ye spyeth a CLOTHES STORE with a long QUEUE, a CD STORE and a MAGICAL FLYING PENGUIN OF STRAWBERRYNESS. Obvious exits are NORTH, SOUTH and OKLAHOMA.
> Ah think ah’ll take a little mosey over to the CD store.
Ye walketh into thee CD store . There are many albyms on sale at thee shop, but onlie one sticks out: it is A SIGNED COPY OF A 5 ALBUM. Unfortunately, on thee carde it says it belongs to a sayd "James Osbourne", so ye cannot get it, for tis his and onlie his.
> Well then, ah think ah’ll head over to this here clothes store and buy maself a gorgeous new outfit!
There is a large queue and a man dressyd smartlie asketh thee to returne to thee ende of it.
> Ah guess ah’ll just have to flirt with him like ma momma taught me.
The smarte man blusheth lots and letteth ye in. Inside thee shope, ye see some new DESIGNER CLOTHING, some BARGINOUS SALES and SIMON FORD. Obvious exits are IN, OUT and SHAKE IT ALL ABOUT.
> Well ah never! Mah good friend Simon Ford! Ah think ah’ll have to chat to that nice man for a bit.
Simon grins cheerfully and talketh to ye aboute how he wanteths to finde JENNIFER CHASE.
> Mah good friend Jennifler! Aint the two of them ever met? Ah’m sure that Jenny would LOVE to meet up with Simon here. Well ah can certainly rectify that. Ah think me and Simon should head over to mah friend Jenny’s room.
Thyself and thee highlie esteemed Simon Ford arriveth in front of Jenny’s room. Unfortunatelie, she appeareth not to be presente. Ye see A CONSPICUOUS LACK OF OBJECTS. Obvious exits are NORTH, SOUTH and TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!
> Well nevermind. Ah’ll just tell Simon to wait here for Jennifler. Why? She’ll hardly be gone a long time, will she?
Congraturation! Ye managed to stay alive AND bringeth two happy people together whilst looking like a true ladie. No-one may have died, but ye know ye have made a deare friende of thine happy. That is why you are:
MISS TEEN DUNGEON!!!
PC Stealer of Hats reports:
The game was getting very slow,
so a-killing did I have to go.
I bumped into the college cat,
and a knife I slipped into its fat.
This deed wanton death was not,
as kitties are a cwiminal lot.
Head of an evil Mafia was he,
and had been so since he was three.
The red mist came then upon me,
and I killed three mathmos, clear to see.
My hand fell down upon the trigger.
For too much rigour, too little rigour,
and holding the cat did I dispatch them.
I took advantage of their distraction.
I have now killed innocents four,
the police must stop me killing more.
The Umpire notes that as police are incapable of killing anyone not a legal target for them, the three mathmos and the cat in question have all in fact miraculously survived the incident. However, PC Stealer of Hats is wanted nonetheless, and the police force, who must be getting quite bored by now, are encouraged to hunt him down.
PC Stealer of Hats reports:
I killed another cat.
What d'ya think about that?
The RSPCA will be pleased to hear that this cat has also made a miraculous recovery.
Blood Is The Best Lubricant reports:
Do you know what happens when you slice a golf ball in half? Someone gets mad at you. I found this out the hard way.
Miss Teen Dungeon reports:
Oh deary me! Ah've just realised ah've been awful rude. Ah gave Jenny and Cat such nice shiny presents, but ah didn't give any to anyone else! As such, ah decided to go out and give a present to EVERYONE, so no-one can say ah was being mean or nout.
Miss Teen Dungeon reports:
While ah was up at Girton, ah dropped a little present off for ma good friend Catherine Hall. Ah also gave her a detonator to use in that silly assassin game. Whoops! Maybe ah shouldn't have left it primed?
Catherine Hall reports:
Arriving at my pigeon hole, i discovered a lolly stick sticking out, it was duct taped to a bit of cardboard. Hmmm think I. This could be suspiscious. . . The only solution - to throw my gloves at the lolly sticking!!! Standing well back, I finally hit the damn thing on my 4th shot!! And unsurprisingly it went bang. Much to the annoyance of the porter on duty, who i then had to pacify. Thanks for that. . . . .
[CoPM] Simone Jenny Fordette reports:
I do not like writing reports, so this will be boring.
I must thank my alter ego for providing me with the practical times of my target. After some lurking in the cold outside his house, I headed to the Department and the lab, to find him already there. I dread to think how early he must have left.
I sat down on an unoccupied bench in a highly inconspiuous disguise, and watched Neill work while attempting to apply myself to my notes and listening to soldering instructions from behind me. Interesting. Conveniently, Neill is a bright spark and finished long before the end, allowing me to follow him down to the coffee room and shoot him in the back of the head. He showed me his Simon Ford mask, but it wasn't very scary on a corpse.
Thank you to Chris Field's corpse for being really good about not reacting on seeing me.
Possibly I should feel guilty for making Caius extinct in this game. It's very unethical to wipe out a species, but I'll probably get over it.
Presley, Elvis reports:
Alas I am forced to make my rapidly decaying hands type another message from the other side. At least my last request was met, my death mask was in place at the final hour.
Blood Is The Best Lubricant reports:
If your friend is already dead, and being eaten by vultures, I think it's okay to feed some bits of your friend to one of the vultures, to teach him to do some tricks. But only if you're serious about adopting the vulture.
Michaela Cripps reports:
I hear voices. They tell me to kill my friends before they kill me. I have to make the voices stop. I have to shoot Catherine Hall. I find out where she's going to be, I load up my guns and I get ready. My information is flawed and she appears behind my field of vision. The voices in my bed don't talk to me any more.
Michael Cripps receives a small hypothetical prize for making it this close to the end of the game without ever actually using his initial pseudonym.
Catherine Hall reports:
The bad thing about being from Girton is that you have to tell everyone your subject. So everyone knows I'm an engineer (or does now. . . .).
The bad thing about being an engineer is that with relatively little work it can be found out where I SHOULD be.
Bearing this in mind, I try to NEVER be where I'm meant to be. . . . I had a lab this morning, compulsory attendance! This means I must be on my guard. . . . . Luckily for me, the lab finished early. Exiting the lab by means that few peple know about (including engineers) I head to the lecture theatre unmolested. However, there is a lecture still going on in Thermodynamic, escaping as soon as I have dumped my bag at the back, I use the back entrance to check for any possible assassins lurking for where they think I will exit my lab.
GUESS WHO I SEE!!! MIKE CRIPPS!!!
Now normally, it being Mike I would assume he was after me, and leave him alone. However, 3 days ago, Mike decided that the "understanding" between us should be nullified. So to say I'm suspicious doesn't put it stongly enough!!!!
There was no way I could sneak up on Mike at that point, so I retreated until lectures were over, and hoped that he would remain in place. When lectures had finished I snuck through the front entrance of the lecture theatre behind Mike, and since the bench he was conviently sitting on is next to the back entrance, I emerged and shot him.
I'm really sorry, but what's a hunted girl to do?
The voices in Mike's bed reports:
Mmm ... necrophilia ...
Blood Is The Best Lubricant reports:
Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess was why several of us died of tuberculosis.
Simon Ford reports:
If a particular person thinks that they're going to induce me into a direct attempt by yawning at me, they've got another thing coming. Instead you get a pathetic little poison letter from me. I'd be rather surprised if it worked but when your target is suffering from such a bad case of unjustified arrogance, who knows what could happen?
Stephen McCann reports:
I got a suspicious letter today. I looked at it for a bit, then put on gloves, then took it back to my room. Hmmm looks like a bomb, cut it in half, could read a disclaimer, oh its a poison letter... bin it! Haha you didnt kill me and i got a plentiful supply of post-it notes out of it, well i would have done if i hadn't thrown them in the bin too, who uses post-its anyway???
[CoPM] Byrony Baines reports:
If you think a weakness can be turned into a strength, I hate to tell you this, but that's another weakness.
PC Stealer of Hats reports:
Under the hand the showy gun-case
delivers truly the surprise
of pellets shooting up my nose.
I didn't last very long.
The reflection of honour fast-lost,
through the ex-killer, now trusted. So
darkly the stain of blood on my
shirt in apple shape,
the theivish one who now sleeps with the fishes.
[Apologies to JH Prynne. Oddly enough his "poetry" adapts really ]well to assassination. Maybe that's what it's really about, huh? Certainly makes more sense than the original (see TCS)]
Agent The Reformed and Benevolent Sir Maxwell D'Hammeur Argentiere BSc SSc AKA [CoPM] One of Mike Cripps' minions reports:
The King is dead. Long live the King!
It had been a tough day for Maxwell. The boss had fallen and left him
with only one message: "If they've got a goatee, kill them!"
Maxwell was wondering how he could go about fulfilling his master's last
(repeatable) request, when a green elephant came up to him and asked:
"Maxwell, do you feel like doing a lame rip-off that was slightly
original at first, but is now getting annoying and lame?"
"Go on then" said Maxwell, and he felt the room shimmering around him, as if another world was trying to suck him in. He resisted, and resisted, but it was all too much. Suddenly he felt a new reality, a new environment around him, and he could begin.
You find yourself in your room. There is a COMPUTER, a set of WORK, and a GUN here.
> X COMPUTER
The computer displays the assassins guild police list. You notice that PC Stealer of Hats has been killing cats randomly, and is thus wanted.
> EXPRESS HORROR
You gasp. This is a terrible thing indeed. People who attack Kats are bad, people who attack Cats are also quite bad, so people who attack cats must be truly evil. You resolve to deal with this feline mutilator.
> X WORK
The work appears to be an attempt at a Logic sheet. It's not very good.
> TAKE WORK?
You place the WORK into your inventory.
> X GUN
You see a loaded pellet pistol.
> TAKE GUN
You place the GUN into your inventory.
> HAND WORK IN
I don't know the verb 'hand'
> GO CMS
You are at the CMS. You see lots of mathematicians. You also see TOM KORNER, and a set of PIGEONHOLES.
> PUT WORK IN PIGEONHOLE
You carefully put the work in the correct pigeonhole, and hope your supervisor will show mercy the next day.
> GO PEMBROKE
You are at Pembroke college. You decide to look for the wanted PC Stealer of Hats. You arrive at his corridor and there is no-one there. You see a KITCHEN, and a BACK DOOR.
> ENTER KITCHEN
You walk into the kitchen door. Ouch.
> OPEN KITCHEN DOOR
The door quietly opens.
> ENTER KITCHEN
You enter the kitchen. You wish that your kitchen was this tidy. Or clean. You notice a window leading outside onto the courtyard, and magnetic poetry on the fridge
> X POETRY
There are many different phrases on the fridge, each composed out of individual words that can be interchanged.
> SCRAMBLE POETRY
Vandal! You jumble up all the words on the fridge, and make a ring of words for you to add your own witty phrase in the middle where it will be noticed.
> INSERT WITTY PHRASE
Where would you like to insert the witty?
> *COUGH* WRITE PHRASE ON FRIDGE
You combine the available tiles to read: "I come to expunge miscreant individual from society." You grin cheesily.
> EXIT KITCHEN
You are in PC Stealer of Hats's corridor. There is a BACK DOOR and a KITCHEN here.
> OPEN BACK DOOR
You open the back door easily. It appears to lead out onto a waste disposal area.?
> ENTER DISPOSAL AREA
You go through the door and see a view that makes Churchill college look scenic. You also see that PC Stealer of Hats is not in his room through his window.
> GIVE UP AND GO HOME
You are in your room. You get bored.
> GO PEMBROKE
You arrive on PC Stealer of Hats's staircase. The kitchen door is open, and you see
tuna and lettuce out on the side. You conclude that only a girl could be
cooking something involving lettuce, and your suspicions are confirmed
when she returns to the kitchen a minute later. Going through the back
door again would only confirm that PC Stealer of Hats is not in his room again, so don't
bother asking. Now, the really interesting thing you see is.....
WARNING: ++?????++ Out of Cheese Error
>HELP
You have sugffered a critical error, and cannot proceed until you find some cheese.
>GO CHEESE SHOP
You head towards the cheese shop. On your way there, you notice a CD lying on the ground. .
>X CD
The CD appears to be a 5ive album. It is personally signed by the group members, and there is a note on it saying "Property of James Osborn." It will supply enough cheese for the game to continue.
>TAKE CD
You pick up the CD and almost immediately, you see James Osborn running at you, armed to the teeth, screaming "It's MY CD!! Get off it!!" He looks furious that you have taken his prize posession. You have time for only one action before he reaches you. What will you do?
>LOSE THE GAME
You lose the game, and enter a grace period for 30 minutes. James Osborn reaches you, firing wildly, enraged that you have taken his CD. Several bullets rip through you, and you collapse where you stand.
Game Over. You scored 15 Nokes out of a possible 335, giving you the rank of junior moustache grower. Would you like to RESTART, RELOAD, or GET OUT OF THIS LAME IF RIP-OFF POSTHASTE?
>EXIT
Maxwell was by now utterly confused, and about as sick of writing this silly report as you are of reading it. Nevertheless, he suddenly found himself in an eating establishment worthy of a knight of the realm, and ate an enjoyable meal. He ordered dessert to takeaway, and headed back to this strange Pembroke place he had been thinking about.
He finished his McFlurry as he entered, and after spending a few minutes carefully observe someone suspicious walking around the courtyard shiftily, with one hand on his gun and the other on his ice cream (eating mcfluries one handed is a valuable skill, you know) Maxwell arrived back at PC Stealer of Hats's room. This time, the curtains were closed, and the light was on, so he had missed PC Stealer of Hats. He waited for a few minutes, saw someone enter PC Stealer of Hats's kitchen, and then leave for another corridor, and was considering leaving. He went round the back of the kitchen, as there was a window from where you could see the whole corridor, and as he looked through, he saw someone shifty looking carefully through the kitchen door! Maxwell jumped back out of sight, drew his gun, (although for style bonus, he should have labelled the McFlurry spoon and used that) and ran into the corridor the suspect was coming out of. PC Stealer of Hats tried to reach for a gun, but had no chance as Maxwell had momentum and was ready.
Let this be a lesson to all who kill cats! Let this be a lesson to
those who taunt Maxwell, viz:
"Golly gee, Mr. Maxwell, ya know ay was so touched by yur struggle tur
clear
yur name, i just went up'n killed me some innocents!
How's about that, now?
I'n be thinkin' ye be able ter come an keill me deid if'n I letcha. Gurd
lurck!
:D"
Let this be a lesson to those who claim McFlurries do not help in the ways of the assassin! Let this be a lesson to those of you who don't know when to finish your reports, but inanely prattle on. That's an advantage of being a mathmo, I haven't written a complete sentence since the day I
Michael Brooks reports:
I feel guilty for what I've put my mailbox through. For the abuse it has taken being dragged through this game. It has been bombed twice, seen three poison letters and earlier this week was brutally Simon Forded by Richards. I've never seen it like this before, it's definitely not the same mailbox it was... sniff.
Anyway that didn't stop yet another poison letter arriving in my mailbox. For the record, I remove mail with gloves; always. Even those cheap sodding Life Club flyers, all removed with gloves. The poison letter was padded out with a post-it note block to look vaguely like a mailbomb and so it earned itself a whack from a. Also inside was a red napkin taped to the letter and a sachet of white sugar. The letter was cut open at one end and poisoned on the outside at that end. I suspect the random items inside also carried some poison and probably the sugar was intended to be some sort of consolation prize for being killed via the letter.
Anyhow, I'm curious to know the explanation behind the choice of objects.
PC Stealer of Hats reports:
I was killed by David Stark.
He shot me through the heart.
I told him I was already dead,
having been eviscerated through my head,
His words: Oh Ric!
Why so quick!
The Umpire, though immortal, notes that the concept of being eviscerated through one's own head sounds both frightening and grotesque.
Dalriada reports:
Decided to leave a fiendish poison flyer... hahaha no one would expect an attempt like this with all the bombs about. And the open season and the shooting, with all the guns and the pain and the blood, and the big guns with the loud noises and.... etc
Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate. - Sun Tzu's Art of War
The Legend Lives On
Michael Richards reports:
Not one, but two useless pigeonhole bombs! Oh, a bit of advice for the senders (both who used lip balm as contact poison), lip balm does not stay sticky for very long whatsoever. It does smell very nice however. After my excitement on Monday, it all seems a bit of a letdown...
Y2J reports:
Welcome to ST.JOHN'S IS JERICHO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The end is coming closer....
Soon he will arrive....
And then....
You will never EVVVVVVVVEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR be the same AGAIN!
Pemmer reports:
Mr_X: "Rig the tits off Richard's mailbox"
Pemmer: "Are you sure you are familiar with the anatomy of Richards box?"
*Mr X smirks
*** Mr_X is now known as The_Game
*Pemmer runs away
*** Signoff: Pemmer (Quit: better things to be doing)
Neo reports:
An hour and a half. In the sunshine. No-show. Working on tan.
Index | Wanted List | Incompetents | Police | Headlines | UpdatesProduced at Fri Apr 9 00:31:25 2004