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November 28, 2006

11.28.06

Last week, a former Russian spy died from radiation poisoning after naming a senior Kremlin agent as the man responsible for targeting him.

Today's topic is poison.

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Comments

"Aw man I freaking hate that song by Alice Cooper!"

"Why its got a great hook at the beginning and gave him his first number 1 in the UK."

"But the video was shite!" He spluttered.

"So you judge s by their videos?"

"Yeah man don't you.."

"Er no," I said as I walked off mumbling to myself about rock philistines. "Bloody MTV crap even when it was playing videos."

Then it struck me like a slap upside the head... All those years of being a rock critic had caught up with me and I've turned into a rock fogey!

Posted by: Andrew Ian Dodge at November 28, 2006 8:03 AM · Permalink

Never Quite As Spectacular

“I love this part!”

“That little guy’s voice is annoying.”

“It’s funny. We’re going to reenact this right now.”

“Oh god.”

“Now just a twirl, you look away, I move them around again…okay, drink.”

“Ugh! This tastes awful! What did you make?”

“Haha! You’ve been poisoned!”

“You idiot, it’s not poisoned. Besides, in the movie, they were both poisoned.”

“No, I really did put poison in there. And I know how it goes! There’s poison in both glasses.”

“Stupid! You haven’t built any kind of tolerance for poison! We’re both dead!”

“Oh crap.”

“Get the number for poison control qui…”

Posted by: Laieanna at November 28, 2006 10:43 AM · Permalink

I know...I'm so simple. No real flare here. *sigh*

Posted by: Laieanna at November 28, 2006 10:45 AM · Permalink

I loved it!

I loved the movie too. Iacane, ha!

Posted by: kasac at November 28, 2006 10:54 AM · Permalink

Laieanna? Simple?

Why that's....

Inconceivable!

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 28, 2006 1:01 PM · Permalink

The battered doors swung wildly open as Big Sam thundered in.

The doors creaked, slowly, closed, behind him.

Big Sam’s big smile was met with cold stares. He looked about the room, his smile now a scowl, and his eyes met Death.

Sitting atop a shiny new scooter, Death held a razor in one hand, a Red-Ryder BB-gun in the other, a hair-pin for light sockets in his teeth. Scissors to run with, were attached to his belt, and a Zippo lighter beside him.

Death caught Big Sam’s stare and with eyes permanently crossed he snarled, “Pick your Poison, Sammy!”

Posted by: kasac at November 28, 2006 4:38 PM · Permalink