I am going to flick peanuts at all the clans until one of you give Doc a fight

As Harold snacks on his bag of peanuts, contemplateing who will become his first victum; he suddenly feels as though he's not alone on the street. Looking left he see's no one, and to the right, nothing.... he continues on.

Moments later a walnut goes zinging over his shoulder and a loud crack is heard.

After regainning his composure and changing his underwear (much easier to do with these colourful "Clown Brand" pantaloons), he again gazes about him. Not seeing anyone close by again, he's stunned, then he realizes there is something new in his pocket!

It's large and awkward but after a few moments of struggle, Harold has managed to pull a slightly still warm, Slingshot out of his pocket, dumping tisues, candies, a a few walnuts on the ground about him as they are dragged along with it.

As he stands there wondering when he'd picked this new toy up (and why is it so warm), a moan is heard from across the street.

Looking across, Harold and Simons eyes lock; a dawning realization on Harolds face, as Simon shoots a glare of pure hate across the street.

pure hate? i'm not a hater...maybe you should carry on with your silly stories using someone elses name...
the moan came from you... after i catapulted a coconut at your face

Last Edited : Wednesday, 18 November 2009 - 15:16

This catty is mighty fine.....

....Where is Relax, he will make a good target,Im sure I can stir up the HC clan,

You cant stir us up Harold.
In about 6 weeks I will be trying to get a team together for another clan game ,until then im on holidays and I refuse to be taunted until I return home.
Once I return home it may be different lol
Now where did I put that bottle of Jim Beam lol
Cheers Angie

Once Heat peels his new "Coconut Helmet" off, he quickly grabs a makeup compact from some random pocket and skillfully paints a rather dramatic tear under his freshly bruised eye. Then glancing around, he see's nothing and shrugs. Thinking to himself 'Gee, that didn't work out, how'd he know it was me?' he wanders off sketching notes on some colourful tissue he picks off the ground.

LOL, I am your newest biggest fan

On a calm night with a full moons glare, a peaceful residence slumbers away. The sounds of merryment and joy could be heard within, the clink of glass and bottle, the clatter of keyboards delight.

But soon nothing can be heard over the thunderous hum of giant fans. Up in the sky, and advanceing darkness blocks out the stars. As the shadow decends on the residence, gaint thumps compete with the sound of highly overpowered blimp fan engines. Huge iron archors shoot down from the 4 over-inflated blimbs bumbing each other as they coast to a standstill.

As the paranoid quiet decends that happens after a lawnmover engine is turned off; four verry loud crashes shatter thru the roof, grounding the blimps to the building. And as soon as the night has become quiet again an army of Mimes 'ninja' thier way down the anchor ropes onto, and into the dwelling.

Inside the building, every nook cranny and other hidding space has overflowed with thirty mimes. Complette silence, ocassionaly broken by the sound of roof-rubble being stumbled over, and the resulting curses, and throat clearing; once again becomes overbearing.

There is a problem, the head mime seems to be stunned, as Broc Sampson enters the room. 'What's the hold-up?' Broc signals.
"Well sir, um, I don't think we have enough mimes here to complete the mission" stammers the 'boss-looking' mime.
"Hey, arn't you suppossed to be 'mimeing' a stealthy ninja? they may not know we're here yet"

3 minutes latter, every ninja is drunkly stumbling about, and a pile of empty liquor bottles is growing in the rubble. "All right boys" leave the message and bring the rest of the loot" snarles Sampson. And just as the last of the mimes grab the anchors, they spring away with dizzying speed into the sky.

Even before the last of the rubble settles again, a loud sizzleing sound ends and an explosion of colour stains the house.

Alarm claxons ring, loudspeakers anounce unit orders. The base (mental hospital) erupts in silent activity, as dozens of mimes race this way and that.

Makeup is applied, and weapons are issued. Gaurds are doubled in an instant, and large bay doors open up in the field as the great blimps rise into the air.

The mime-nation is mobilizeing for war, but first; first it's time to PARTY! Party like it's 2010! Partly like it's (alsmost) the end of the world, yeah, PART-TIE!

Care to dance Princess?

Ahhh yes Heat I would love to dance...the question is...can you keep up with me
I love a good party and I will dance all night.
Soon we will get to dance on the battlefield,I will try not to keep you up too late old man lol
Laur and I have had a good ole waltz on the battlefield in our last clan game and he was good enough to wear me out ....but are you?
HAPPY NEW YEARS!!!
Cheers Angie

Clan_28806 has started, Happy New Year 2010!

i missed new years

Anyone fancy a clan game ?